Page 33 of The Brutal Arrangement

What the hell?

Katerina had grown up in this world of violence and crime. She should’ve been trained better than to cower and show fear.

Whatever.

Before she could tense again and flinch out of my reach, I grabbed her wrist and dragged her with me.

Maxim gave me his orders.

He said I shouldn’t be soft on her.

I was expected to get answers, even with this weird arrangement.

“Move it,” I ordered, towing her after me until we reached the study.

Not once did she move to lift her veil off her face. Trying not to fall on her feet was likely why she floundered and flailed her free arm to the side, but I didn’t slow down.

My patience was shot.

Somehow, I’d need to get hard enough to fuck her.

She had to be roughed up so she’d know how it would be.

In the study, Maxim and an officiant were waiting at the desk. I didn’t pay my brother any attention, not giving a shit whether he was curious about how meek and skittish Katerina was acting. Once I shoved her toward the furniture, I took a pen and slapped it in her hand. It fell from her trembling fingers, and I scowled.

She reallywasafraid.

And fuck if that didn’t turn me on.

Fear was my kryptonite.

Seeing how terrified someone could be with my presence gave me a heady sense of triumph that only proved how much of a sick sadist I was.

Because any time I felt like this, every time I was reminded that I was strong and in charge, it helped to chase away the sickening sensation of trepidation that I felt when Maxim, Nik, and I were almost executed.

I grabbed the pen off the desk again, slammed it onto her palm, then closed her fingers around it.

“Sign it,” I ordered.

She lowered her hand, seeming ready to obey.

While she set her pen to the paper, I took the other pen and scrawled my name. The officiant blathered on with the barest of vows and crap, and I nodded along, impatient to get the fuck out of here.

Seeing my bride trembling in fear got to me, and I wouldn’t relax at all until I could vent on her in bed.

“I do.” Turning to face her, curious what her scared expression had to look like with that pathetic veil over her, I waited for her to agree to her lines.

“I do,” she practically whispered. Even her voice was shaky.

It was done. The papers were signed. The vows were done. If Grandmother was present, she would’ve been having an apoplectic fit at how I’d rushed through this all.

It wasn’t done yet. I intended to hurry and get this woman—now mywife—into bed.

“We’re done?” I glanced at the officiant, daring him to make me wait any longer. The thrum of violence stayed steady within me. I had to move. I had to get out of here and fuck this wife of mine until some of this tension had left me.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Good. Let’s go.” Once more, I grabbed her wrist and dragged her out of the room.

---