Page 80 of Forced By an Obsessive Bratva Stalker

“No. We’re moving at the right pace.”

“Please, can we—can we, um…can we talk about this first before making any rash decisions?” she stuttered, fear flickering in her eyes.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I said. “Your status has been lifted—you’re no longer my prisoner; you’re my fiancée and the mother of my unborn child.”

“Rodion, think about this for a minute.” She grabbed my hand as I tried to return to my desk, pleading with her eyes. “Please.”

“Think about what, exactly?” I spun around, my voice a bit more intense than I’d meant. “Marrying the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, or her giving birth to my child in the near future?”

Her expression was way too soft, like she was about to break down in tears.

“Tell the truth, Aria. Do you have a problem keeping this child?”

“No!” She shook her head, fighting back the tears that welled in her eyes. “No, I don’t. In fact, I wanna keep it—it’s just…it’s the marriage I’m not sure of.” A lone tear trickled down her cheek. “Please, don’t make me do this; I’m not ready to be a wife.”

I faced her squarely, masking the pain of watching her cry. “You’re not ready to be a wife, or you’re not ready to be my wife?”

She swallowed and wiped her tears. “I have my whole life ahead of me. If I’m bound to you forever, I’ll be forfeiting my goals and ambition.”

“Says who?” I asked her.

No answer.

“This child will not be born outside the confines of marriage,” I stated bluntly. “You will be my wife, and I will be your husband. End of discussion.”

Her head dropped to her chest in dismay as she realized her fate had been sealed.

Chapter 23 – Aria

How did I get here?

Everything happened so fast—from the moment I witnessed that incident at Meridian Solutions to the day he told me I was going to be his wife. So much time had passed, and it felt like only yesterday that I was running around the city chasing stories for my research assignment.

How did I get here?

The cathedral doors parted, revealing the few guests seated in the pews, their heads turning to face me. Dressed in a white lace that hugged me in the right places, I walked down the aisle, my heels clicking softly against the floor.

My heart was hammering in my chest, my sweaty palms brushing against the fabric of my expensive gown. Soft piano keys drifted through the air, adding ambiance to the whole scene as we approached the groom waiting at the altar.

He was resplendent in an impeccably tailored dark suit with a bow tie that fit his neck. His dark hair was combed to perfection, his steel-gray eyes pinned on me as he stood there with a blank expression on his face.

The closer I drew to him, the more I realized I was about to bind myself to him forever. But there was nothing I could do at this point—my fate had been sealed. Apparently, the Tarasov men had a history of marrying women who became pregnant with their children.

I was just another victim of the Tarasov devils’ manipulation.

This union would benefit him the most. He was getting married to the one woman he wanted to keep for himself. And she would give birth to his child. The heir to his empire. Our union was structured and strategic, designed to stabilize political exposure.

From what I gathered, being married would elevate his status within the Bratva ranks. Higher status meant more exposure. More exposure meant more lucrative deals. More lucrative deals meant more money. More money meant more power and influence.

These and many more were what he stood to gain from this union. And what did I get in return?

A life of misery, pain, and regret.

At least before this issue of marriage came up, there was a small chance that, sometime in the foreseeable future, he would let me go if I played my cards right. But right now, that small chance was gone forever.

He’d made it pretty clear that I was going to be his wife and that divorce was not an option. The only consolation here was that I would no longer be his prisoner but his wife.

What difference would that make if he still controlled everything I did?