Page 37 of Forced Innocent Bride By the Bratva

Scarlett was brighter these days. She smiled more often and mingled with the maids more than she used to. Each time she looked at me, there was something in her eyes, something that I couldn’t yet name. However, one thing was certain: She’d slipped out of her shell, and in all honesty, I liked this version of her.

Her newfound freedom and attitude had somehow awakened something in me, something unfamiliar. I had no idea what it was, but each time I thought of her or set my eyes on her, I felt it swell up in my chest like a flutter.

These past few days had been the most peaceful in my whole life, and for the first time, I didn’t feel bored enough to mess with her. She gave me no reason to do so. Scarlett had been on her best behavior, and as fascinating as that was, it was also almost suspicious.

I hadn’t ruled out the fact that she was a master in the art of deception, so getting too comfortable was not an option. I still needed to keep my eyes on the ground and watch her closely. She’d proven to be the last person on the planet that should be underestimated. I made that mistake once; I wasn’t going to make it again.

However, in the meantime, I’d savor the peace and quiet she offered.

The best part of my mornings was waking up to her tangled under the sheets, her body curled against mine like she knew she belonged here with me. The sight was a wonder to behold, and it would never get old.

That morning, I sat at the dining table, the inviting scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air. The rising sun filtered in through the window, highlighting the warm, honey-colored tones of the wooden table and chairs. The table was adorned with a stack of fine, white china plates and a few pieces of silverware.

Before me, a hearty breakfast spread was laid out: scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and toasted sourdough bread, sliced and buttered to perfection. A small bowl of fresh fruits—sliced strawberries, grapes, and blueberries—added a pop of vibrance to the plate’s freshness.

Scarlett had yet to come down, but considering what time it was, she must be awake already. So, I should be expecting her at any moment.

I ate in silence, feeling a sense of connection with the soft classical music playing in the background. The sound was calm and soothing to my soul, a melody that added to the serenity of this beautiful morning.

Ilya strolled into the room, his presence drawing my attention as he stood to my right, watching quietly. At first, I didn’t want to speak—I just wanted to enjoy my breakfast while waiting for my wife. However, his gaze lingered long enough, and I was curious to know what was on his mind.

“Do you have something to say to me, Ilya?” I asked without turning in his direction.

“Not really,” he said, clearing his throat. “It’s just that, uh…people are talking in the streets.”

“It’s the streets, Ilya. People talk,” I said, chewing graciously.

“Yeah, well, this time they’re talking about the O’Sullivan girl,” he said, his tone mild and teasing.

I paused for a moment, my curiosity piqued. “What are they saying about her?” I asked, turning to face him.

His lips twitched at the corners, his expression softening. “That she’s warming your bed…being your wife in every sense of the word. They say she’s the stolen bride forced to marry the devil.”

I scoffed dismissively, returning to my meal, unfazed by the rumors spreading like wildfire. Everyone was entitled to their own opinion, and I owed no one an explanation. The streets could say whatever they wanted about me; it wouldn’t be the first time, anyway. Besides, where was the lie in their assumptions?

“They’re also saying that Liam Callahan is the victim here,” Ilya added. “That he was beaten up—half to death—and forced to watch as Daniel Tarasov took his place at the altar.”

The mere mention of Liam Callahan caused my blood to boil, my grip tightening around the cutlery in my hands. The bastard was lucky that I let him live. I didn’t give a shit about the perception of others—how they saw him as the victim—but hearing his name was a reminder of what he did to my dear Alina. That was why I was pissed.

“Liam is irrelevant,” I growl, my eyes flashing with irritation. “I don’t want to hear that name again.”

Ilya hesitated a few a while. “Got it, Boss.”

Someone conspicuously cleared their throat from the entrance, their sudden appearance drawing my attention. “Good morning,” Scarlett greeted us, her voice soft and gentle. “Am I interrupting something?”

I was lost in her beauty for a moment as she stood poised by the door, her fiery red hair styled in loose waves that cascaded down her back. A simple yet elegant creamy dress hugged her in all the right places, highlighting her curves and contours. As she stared at me, her eyes sparkled with mirth, and a sweet, charming smile softened her expression.

“No. You’re not,” I said, finally replying to her. “Ilya was just leaving.”

He stepped away from me and headed toward the door, his head slightly bowed in reverence as he walked past her.

“You must be hungry,” I said to her, intending to start a conversation.

“I’m so famished I could eat a whole bear right now,” she said, a playful grin dancing on her alluring lips, which were painted a shade of pink.

I let out a hearty chuckle, my eyes crinkling at the corners as I watched her take her seat at the table across from me.

She uncovered her dish, grabbed her cutlery, and took a bite of her crispy bacon. “Hmm. This is so good,” she mumbled with her mouth still full, savoring the flavor dancing on her tongue before releasing a contented sigh.

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