Broken Bride (Belaya Bratva 2)

CHAPTER 12

Naomi

I woke slowly and stretched my arms over my head. My muscles pulled with the movement. The place beside me in the bed was empty, and I tried my best not to feel anything at all about the person who should be there.

Gavril.

My husband.

Father of my unborn child.

Bile rose in the back of my throat and I forced it down as I sat up, rubbing my aching head. Last night had been good. Sex with Gavril was always good—if not great.

And now, it was different.

Everything about him felt different. Because deep down, no amount of the things that I felt about him could hide who and what my husband truly was.

A monster who sold people.

Not everything about Gavril was a monster. He wasn’t going to harm me physically.

Emotionally though? I was devastated. In my bones, I knew it was coming—if not already happening after our confrontation—and I hated it. I hated the fact that I felt cornered last night, waiting for the moment he would bend me to his will and use me until I had nothing left to myself.

I hated that when he knelt between my legs, I felt both a familiar excitement but also a deep and uncomfortable fear. The moment when his strong hands opened my legs and his tongue lapped at my sex made me feel like a wounded gazelle.

And he was the lion, waiting for the right opportunity.

I hated that my fear dissolved and warped under his masterful touch. So much so that I begged—practically ordered—him to take me.

I was helpless, and at the same time, hopelessly addicted.

I didn’t like feeling this way at all.

Was this what I had to look forward to for the rest of my life? Would I always feel the anxiety well up whenever he was around, worried that he was going to snap at any moment?

Drawing in a shaky breath, I climbed out of bed and barely got my robe on before the door was opening and Vera strode in, her lips pinched with worry. “You’re up.”

I straightened, tightening the belt around my waist. “Good morning, Vera.”

Something akin to pity flickered across her expression before it faded. “The master would like for you to join him for breakfast in the dining room. He says to let you know that he would like for you to wear something to go out in afterward.”

I paused. “Go out? Go where?”

She clasped her hands before her, her back ramrod straight. “I do not know. It’s warm outside today. You might want to wear something breathable.”

Attempting not to show my ramping anxiety, I gave her a small nod. “Thank you, Vera. I will be down in just a few minutes, then.”

She inclined her head and walked to the door, pausing before she exited. “If you need anything for your symptoms, you only need to let me know.”

Though her words lacked any real warmth, I appreciated her offer. “Konechno,” I said softly. “It means a lot.”

Vera didn’t respond, and the door was closed once more. Sighing wearily, I headed to the wardrobe. My stomach was in knots, and I was slightly nauseous. It had nothing to do with the baby and everything to do with whatever my husband had planned for me today.

There was going to be a lesson. I was sure of it.

Gavril didn’t let anything be swept under the rug and forgotten about. I had broken the rules, even if it was for his benefit.

And for that, he was going to demand payment.

He had gotten a share of it last night. And now, he would have the rest.

Not wanting to give him any reason to be even more pissed off, I pulled out a pair of comfortable linen pants and a flowy top, wasting little time in finishing my hair and makeup before I was heading downstairs to the dining room. Gavril was already seated at the table when I arrived, a newspaper in his hand and a plate of food before him.

He looked up as I walked in, his fathomless expression giving nothing away about whatever plan he had for me.

“Dobriy utro, Sveta.” Good morning.

I slid into the chair next to him, and a plate was placed before me immediately. “Dobriy utro, Gavril.”

He folded the paper with a snap, placing it beside him on the table. “I trust you slept well?”

“Yes, very,” I murmured as I reached for my napkin. My stomach twisted slightly at the smell of the eggs before me, and I swallowed a few times to force back the rising bile. “I-I don’t know if I can eat this.”

Gavril snapped his fingers, and the plate was removed nearly immediately. “Get my wife something bland and a ginger ale.”

“Thank you,” I offered up once the staff member walked away. “I’m sorry.” I felt foolish to have a plate of food be taken and discarded without me even touching it, and I wanted to apologize to someone for it.

Gavril reached over and clasped my clammy hand in his, brushing his thumb over the top. “It’s not your fault. You need to eat. Whatever it takes to ensure that our child gets what it needs, I will make it happen. I have already told you that you will not want for anything.”

But did you ever ask me what I want? I thought, but chose to stay silent.

He continued to rub my hand, and that singular action only drove my anxiety through the roof. His touch did crazy things to my mind and my body, but something was off.

“Vera informed me that we are to go somewhere this morning?” I asked instead, taking my mind off his distracting touch and my convoluted feelings.

Gavril removed his hand and picked up his fork instead. “A small trip into the city. I thought you might want to get out of the mansion.”

I waited for him to tell me more, but when he busied himself with his food, I let the matter drop. Truthfully, I wasn’t interested in fighting with him this morning. My heart was bruised, my mind rattled, and my body exhausted. I had no desire to find the answer to wherever he planned to take me and why.

I only knew that it would happen.

So, I ate the plain bagel that was placed before me and drank the ginger ale to settle my stomach. When we finished breakfast, Gavril stood and extended his hand. I took it without a word to let him lead me out to the foyer, where Ivan waited by the door.

“Pakhan,” he acknowledged with the same inclining of his head. “The car is right outside.”

Gavril pressed his hand to my lower back. I felt the searing touch through the thin layer of my shirt, and it sent a shiver through my core. “After you, my dear,” he murmured next to my ear.

I propelled my feet to move and somehow got myself outside without tripping, sliding into the cool interior of the waiting car and away from the sweltering heat, Gavril hot on my heels.

Ivan slipped behind the steering wheel and we were off, the car zooming down the long driveway to the main street. I wanted to roll down the window and feel the wind in my hair, but my hands remained clasped in my lap instead, too afraid to do anything, really.

Cold reality washed over me once more. I was reminded that I hadn’t chosen this life and wouldn’t have chosen it if given the opportunity.

I was a prisoner.