Page 27 of Bratva Hostage

“I’m fine standing.”

He arches a brow, and for a moment, we lock eyes. I see a flicker of impatience, but he doesn’t push the chair issue. Instead, he leans forward and rests his palms on the desk. “I have an announcement to make regarding your situation.” He pauses, studying me, and I sense I’m not about to like whatever it is he’s about to say. “I’ve decided on a course of action that will ensure your safety from Thorne.”

I roll my eyes. “Are you doubling the guard count again? Locking me in my room? Maybe chaining me to a radiator?”

He keeps his expression set in stone. “No. This is more permanent.” He straightens, adjusting the collar of his shirt, then takes a measured breath. “We’re getting married, Cecily.”

For several seconds, I’m sure I didn’t hear him correctly. The phrase can’t possibly mean what it implies. I blink, stunned. “You’re…what?”

He exhales like he’s bracing for my reaction. “You and I will formalize our union. Once you’re a Barkov in name, your father loses his last leverage. If he tries anything, he’d risk war with my family.”

I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Married?” The word feels ridiculous on my tongue. “You think I’m going to marry you? Are you out of your mind?”

“It’s the most logical move to protect you. Thorne won’t dare abduct the wife of a Barkov. He knows we’d bring the full force of our network against him.”

Rage starts to bloom in my chest. “You can’t be serious. Marriage? That’s your big plan?”

His tone remains calm, as if he’s reciting from a prepared script. “Yes. I’ve talked about this with my brothers. It’s the only real solution.”

I take a step back, shaking my head. “You can’t do this. You can’t just decide I’m going to be your wife. That’s insane.” A wave of revulsion and shock surges, twisting my stomach. “I’d rather let my father grab me than marry you.”

“If Thorne grabs you, he wins. He’ll drag you off to wherever he’s hiding and use you as a bargaining chip. You’ll never be free.”

“Better a pawn than shackled to you for life.” The words taste bitter. My mind scrambles for a retort that fully conveys the depth of my fury, but I’m too overwhelmed to be clever.

“I’m not seeking your permission. The marriage is happening.”

“You can’t force me! I’m not some item you can pass around.”

“This isn’t up for debate,” he declares, as he leans forward again. “We’ve tried keeping you safe with extra patrols and locked doors. Thorne’s men keep probing our defenses. Next time, they could succeed, and you’d end up back in Thorne’s control.”

I throw my arms in the air. “So your solution is to treat me exactly like he did? Another cage, another man deciding my future without asking my opinion?” I let out a harsh laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

He doesn’t move, but the tension rolling off him feels stifling. “You claim to hate living like a prisoner. I’m offering you a different status. As my wife, you’ll have much more freedom than you do now.”

I grip the back of the chair to stop my hands from shaking. “You want to brand me with your last name so you can patrol me just like you do now. I’ll still have guards on me every second. I’ll still have no freedom.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not about controlling you. It’s about making Thorne back off. I’m offering you protection, not a prison sentence.”

“That’s exactly what a prison sentence is. You telling me what to do, who to be, and how to live.” I can’t stop the words from tumbling out. “You’re as bad as my father.”

He flinches as if I’ve slapped him, opening and closing his mouth a few times before he finally says, “Don’t compare me to him. I’m not beating you. I’m not trading you for money or influence. I’m saving your life.”

I slam my hands on the desk, leaning in. “Don’t twist this. I never asked for your rescue in the first place. You act like you’re doing me a favor, but it’s just another form of control.”

“It’s not optional. The wedding will take place. I’m not here to negotiate terms. This is decided.” He steps around the desk, closing the distance between us. My pulse spikes, but I hold my ground. “You’re welcome to protest. But the ceremony will happen. One way or another.”

I let out a trembling breath, seething. “Then I’ll protest every day for the rest of my life. I’ll never be a willing participant in your plan.”

He pauses, as though weighing his next words. “Once we’re married, I’ll allow you to see Seraphina.”

My rage falters for a split second, and my heart lurches in my chest. “What?”

He speaks more quietly, though his voice retains that firm edge. “I know you want to see your sister. You haven’t been allowed to yet for security reasons. If you become my wife, I’ll arrange a visit.”

A wave of emotion nearly knocks me sideways. I haven’t seen Seraphina since my father took me hostage. We’ve had a few phone calls since I got here, but that’s it. I ache to be with her, to know she’s okay. The longing grips me, but so does my anger at Dimitri for using it as leverage.

“You’re dangling Seraphina in front of me. That’s low, even for you.”

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