Page 39 of Forced By the Bratva

Neither of us said anything the rest of the way back.

I’d mentioned the idea of marriage to her, and she still hadn’t responded. However, I knew this conversation was far from over. And I promised myself not to lose control and yell at her again.

We returned to the estate, and I pulled up beside the fountain. She opened the door and stormed out into the rain, her kitten scurrying behind her. She was already walking into the building when I stepped out of the vehicle.

It was clear she didn’t want to speak with me for now, so I let her be. She needed time to process everything that had just happened anyway.

Once inside, I headed to my bedroom and took a warm shower.

Under the running water, I noticed a cut across my forearm, a thin line where one of the spikes had grazed me during the fall. I didn’t even realize I was hurt until now.

I rinsed the mud and dirt off, cleaned the cut as best I could, and stayed under the water longer than usual, letting it ease some of the tension still sitting in my shoulders.

When I was done, I dried off and changed into fresh sweatpants and a clean black singlet, then headed straight for her room.

The plan had been to give her some space and let her think, but fuck it. I needed to speak with her now.

I knocked once on her door before walking in and closing it behind me. She was straight out of the shower, a clean white towel wrapped around her. Her hair was damp, strands sticking to her face as her skin glistened in the soft light.

She paused in her tracks when she saw me; her breath hitched as my sudden presence startled her.

“You seriously need to stop creeping up on me,” she said, a faint scowl settling on her face.

“How are you?” I asked, recalling how we’d both tumbled down that slope.

“Like you care.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” I answered. “Neither would you.”

A pause.

“You want a medal for saving my life, is that it?” Her sass and defiance couldn’t be more obvious. “Well, newsflash, I didn’t ask you to do that.”

I rubbed my forehead, reminding myself that I must remain in control. “Why are you being so difficult?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I haven’t gotten over everything that’s happened yet, and now you’re talking about marriage like it’s the magical solution we all need!” Her voice cracked on the last word, sharp enough to echo off the walls.

I picked up my pace—slow and deliberate. “I know how you feel…”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” She shook her head. “Trust me, you have no idea how I’m feeling right now.”

“Then tell me.”

“I’m angry, Ilya!” she snapped, blinking back the tears that welled in her eyes. “…at you, at myself, at everything!”

I listened, my gaze unwavering.

“I’m frustrated, I’m confused, I’m hurt, and I don’t know what to believe or what to do with my life, or what’s left of it.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

I didn’t say a word.

She continued, amid sobs, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a rush. “I’m still young. I still have my whole life ahead of me. I have plans for the future, and none of them involve getting stuck in a marriage with one of the most ruthless men on the planet.”

“This marriage will protect you, Iris.”

“I never would’ve needed protection if you hadn’t walked into my life!”

That stung.