Page 76 of Arranged Marriage to the Brutal Bratva King
I cross to the desk, every step feeling like walking toward a cliff edge. The bottom right drawer. I pull it open, and there it is—a sleek laptop, expensive and clearly customized, with a small external drive connected via cable.
This is it. The thing they want. The proof that could bring down everything Dimitri’s built.
My hand hovers over the drive. One pull, and it’s done. One choice, and I’ve crossed a line I can never uncross.
“Looking for something?”
I jump violently, spinning toward the doorway.
Dimitri leans against the frame, arms crossed, expression unreadable. He’s still in the clothes from dinner, tie loosened, looking every inch the dangerous man I married.
How long has he been standing there? How much did he see?
“I…” My mind races, searching for explanations that won’t sound like lies. “I was looking for you.”
“In my desk drawer?” He pushes off the doorframe, closing the distance between us with predatory grace. “Interesting place to search.”
“I heard a noise. Wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
“Don’t.” The single word cuts through my excuse like a blade. “Don’t insult both of us with a bad lie. If you’re going to steal from me, at least have the courage to admit it.”
Terror floods through me, cold and absolute. “I’m not stealing.”
“Then what are you doing in my private study, going through my secured files?” He’s close now, close enough that I can see the tightness around his eyes, the carefully controlled fury. “What were you looking for, Janice?”
The truth sits on my tongue, desperate to escape. The phone in my pocket feels like evidence that will damn me the moment he thinks to search.
“I wanted to understand your business,” I say, hating how weak it sounds. “You talk about deals and territories, and I never really comprehend what you’re actually doing.”
“Oh, Janice, are you looking for evidence you could use against me?” He’s directly in front of me now, blocking any escape route. “Who got to you? Who convinced you that spying on your husband was a good idea?”
“No one. I’m not—this isn’t what it looks like.”
“Then what is it?”
I can’t answer. Can’t form words around the terror and guilt and crushing awareness that I’ve been caught doing exactly what he’s accusing me of.
Dimitri reaches past me, closes the drawer I’d left open. The click sounds final, decisive.
“You’ve been different lately,” he says, voice dropping lower. “Distant. I thought it was about adjusting, about finding your place here. It wasn’t, was it?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do.” His hand finds my waist, grip firm. “You’ve been planning something. The question is what.”
“Nothing. I swear, I’m not.”
“Your pulse is racing.” His thumb finds the spot on my wrist where my heartbeat thunders. “Your hands are shaking. You can barely look at me. That’s not the reaction of someone innocently exploring their husband’s office.”
He’s right. I’m caught, and we both know it.
“Tell me the truth.” It’s not quite a command. More like a plea wrapped in steel. “Tell me what you were really doing here, and we’ll deal with it. Keep lying, and I’ll assume the worst.”
The worst. Meaning betrayal. Meaning I’m working with his enemies. Meaning everything between us has been performance while I waited for the right moment to strike.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I don’t know what I was thinking or why I came in here or what I thought I’d find.”
“That’s not an answer.”
