Page 33 of Bratva Hostage

My composure cracks. A tear slips down my cheek, and I dash it away furiously. I shake my head. I don’t trust myself to say anything coherent. Right now, I’m a mess of fury, heartbreak, and an undercurrent of attraction that I despise. I can’t let him see how confused I am. “Don’t follow me. Don’t come knocking.”

He nods, stepping aside. I storm toward the door, fumbling with the handle before yanking it open. As I cross the threshold, I pause and glance over my shoulder, determined to have the last word. “This marriage may be legal, but it sure as hell isn’t real. Don’t forget that.”

Chapter 13 - Dimitri

Yesterday was a ceremony, not a celebration. Cecily spat every vow like a punishment. I vowed to protect her, though the look in her eyes told me she’d rather spit on my shoes. Now it’s morning, and my chest burns with regret. I suspect she regrets it, too. We’ve both made choices neither of us wanted to have to make, and I’m left bracing for whatever blow she deals next.

I exit my bedroom and search the corridor for any sign of her. Only a guard stands by the main stairwell. I try not to bark at him for updates, but I need to know where my wife is. My wife. The word sounds foreign in my head.

Downstairs, the estate is quiet. A few men linger in the entry hall, talking in low voices about Redwood Point—the site we suspect Thorne will target soon. Nobody acknowledges me beyond the usual respectful nod. I pass them and duck into the dining area, half hoping Cecily is there. Empty, aside from a single staff member clearing last night’s floral arrangements from the long table. I recall how my brothers and associates congratulated me in that room after the ceremony, while Cecily simmered with anger. That memory puts me in a foul mood.

After scanning the ground floor for a minute, I decide to check the wing where her former room is located. Although I asked her to choose a room closer to me, I suspect she ignored that request. I climb the stairs, pass a pair of guards, and then knock firmly on a door. There’s no answer. I knock again, letting my knuckles hit with more force.

“Who is it?” Her voice leaks through the door. She sounds guarded.

“Dimitri.” I expect her to fling the door open and hurl a few insults—instead, the door creaks open a few inches, just enough for me to catch a glimpse of her face.

She looks tired. Shadows circle her eyes, and her hair is still pinned in the remnants of last night’s style. A few tendrils have escaped to frame her cheeks.

“What do you want?” she asks in a hoarse voice.

She sounds as if she’s been crying. I don’t let myself dwell on how uneasy that makes me feel. “I came to see if you need anything. A change of clothes, perhaps breakfast brought up?”

She opens the door a bit more. She’s still in the same dress, though the skirt is rumpled, and the lace around her sleeves is crumpled. “I can handle my own clothes. Watley told me where they took them. As for breakfast, no thanks.”

I bite back a retort. She stands there like a challenge made flesh, and I can’t deny the tightness in my chest every time we speak. “Get some rest,” I say, reminding myself to stay calm. “We’ll talk later.”

She stands motionless for a moment, then closes the door without another word. The click of the latch resonates in my ears. I exhale and fight an urge to punch the wall. This isn’t how I pictured the morning after my wedding. Not that I ever pictured a wedding day in the first place.

I head toward my office, determined to bury myself in work. Redwood Point has become a critical focal point for the Barkov family. Thorne wants to strike there, hoping to cripple our shipping routes. We’ve had scouts investigating every rumor, but the details remain sketchy. Maksim promised me updates soon. If I have something to do, maybe I can keep my mind off Cecily for a few hours.

Inside the office, I find Aleksei and Maksim bent over a spread of documents. Aleksei peers up. “You’re awake early.”

I don’t bother with pleasantries. “Any news?”

“Some,” Maksim answers, tapping a page. “We caught wind of increased chatter near Redwood Point. Thorne might be in talks with other outfits who’d love to see us bleed. Kovalev’s name came up again.”

I recall our encounter with Kovalev’s men. We took them out before they could expand into our territory, but it seems we didn’t eliminate the entire threat. “He’s stubborn,” I say. “But we’ll deal with him if he’s foolish enough to side with Thorne.”

Maksim lifts a shoulder. “It may take more than just brute force. Thorne is forging alliances, and Redwood Point is a prize greater than any local scuffle. If he gains enough support, we’ll face a larger confrontation.”

“We dig deeper. We won’t let Thorne outmaneuver us.”

Aleksei taps a phone on the table. “I have a call with one of our informants in a few hours. If we’re lucky, we’ll confirm the scale of Thorne’s next move.”

“Let me know the moment you hear anything. I want Redwood Point locked down. Post men on rotating shifts, coordinate with the local ports, and double-check every entry route.”

They both nod. I glance over the scattered papers again, forced to remember that my personal life merges with this business. Cecily’s father is at the root of it all. If I don’t keep her safe, Thorne will exploit that weakness.

Maksim clears his throat. “How’s your wife?”

“Staying in a different room. She’s furious.”

“Give it time,” Aleksei urges.

I rub the back of my neck, annoyed at how powerless I feel. “I’ll keep trying. Right now, Redwood Point takes priority.”

Maksim clicks his tongue in agreement, and Aleksei returns to sifting through the documents. I murmur something about checking on other aspects of security, then stride out. Focus on the family business, I tell myself. Focus on Redwood Point. But the memory of Cecily’s cold stare clings to me.

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