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“Jesus, Lili.” Arman cuts off other cars as he maneuvers through traffic. “Why are you acting this way? When I realized what was at stake, I gave up the chance for a real marriage just to keep you safe and protected in a fake one. Did you ever think about that?”
I fall into a guilty silence. In fact, I had never considered it, but it’s not enough. After what happened between us last night, I want him to desire me, not just for fun or to pass the time.
It stings to hear the truth, but at least he’s being honest. Regardless of what I might want to believe, the fact remains: Arman might be willing to sacrifice real love to have me as his wife, but it’s for prestige and power. I’m nothing more than a nuisance at worst and a pleasant diversion at best.
Back at Arman’s apartment, everything feels different. Although he’s only a few feet away on the balcony, he may as well be worlds away. His shoulders sag, and I can’t help but wonder what terrible weight he bears. There are so many layers to him, and he doesn’t want anyone, including me, to uncover them.
I could tell him about the curb crawler, but I’d only be doing it for a reaction. Arman was protective because it was his duty, but now that we’re engaged, he’s tipped into full-blown possessiveness because it’s the bratva way. Women are viewed as property, and like his car, he doesn’t want me harmed. Disrespect to me would be an insult to him.
This is nothing new; I was raised in this lifestyle. I had thought that my weird brain and crippling shyness would condemn me to a solitary yet secure existence, living in the mansion and becoming a mad cat lady. Yet here I am, grappling with the erratic nature of a bratva man who has claimed me yet keeps his heart locked away.
I can’t help but wonder why he didn’t do what he clearly wanted to do last night. He could have peeled off my shorts and ravaged me; I wouldn’t have resisted. Instead, he rolled away and left me to my frustration.
I want to make him as uncomfortable as he’s made me. He dared to insinuate that I’m just a kid with a crush. Well, let’s see him squirm for once.
I join Arman on the balcony. “I saw the door hidden behind the tapestry,” I begin, watching his reaction closely. “What’s in the secret room? Taxidermy collection? Gay porn library? Sex dungeon?”
His stern expression cracks. “Remember when I used to tinker on your piano?” A flush creeps up his neck. “I’m terrible at it, and yet I’m not the quitting kind. Don’t wind me up about it.”
“I won’t,” I say, my irritation replaced by curiosity. “Can I play it if I feel like it?”
“No. It’s my room. That’s why I keep it locked.”
“So it is a sex dungeon, just with a piano?” I laugh at his frown. “Sorry. There’s no need to be sensitive about it. I’m going to be living here, and—”
“I said no, Lili.” Arman is already walking past me, heading inside. “Learn to listen.” He grabs the door handle and slides it closed. I laugh and try to open it, only to realize that he’s locked it from the inside.
“Let me in, you idiot.” I smile and point at the lock, thinking he’s pranking me, but it becomes clear that he’s not joking. I watch as he stretches out on the couch, folding his hands behind his head.
“Arman!” I yell. “Who the Hell do you think you are?”
With my face pressed against the glass, I feel foolish, so I lean against the railing and wait. Arman may believe he owns me, but this is going too far.
A few minutes pass, and I glance over my shoulder to see him watching me. His casual disrespect makes me want to punch him, but I can’t, so I flip him off and punch the door instead.
He moves fast, sliding the door so hard he almost breaks the runners. I try to dodge around him, but he’s too quick and grabs my arm.
“I’m gonna talk, tsvetok, and you’ll listen.”
13
Arman
Lilyana’s bratty outbursts are a significant issue. It’s not just because she infuriates me; it’s the overwhelming surge of desire that washes over me when she acts out. Morgana was right; I’ve always given Lilyana whatever she wants because I can’t bear to see her pout. It makes me want to tease her a little and then please her a lot.
Did I lock her outside just to see how she would react? Perhaps. What I do next will reveal my true intentions, and I’m unsure if I can maintain control.
I release my grip on Lilyana’s arm and gently push her onto the couch. “Look at me,” I murmur. “I mean it, Lili. Eyes on mine while I’m speaking.”
She glares at me for a moment before averting her gaze. Part of me bristles at her defiance, but I enjoy it more than I’d like to admit. She avoids eye contact because she’s naturally submissive. It’s not an act—it’s who she is.
“You’re shy, right?” I ask.
She looks up at me, her wide eyes shimmering, and nods.
I lean in closer. “Well, I’ll let you in on a secret; I’m shy too. I just express it differently.”
Lilyana hugs her knees to her chest. “I don’t understand.”
