Page 52 of The Bratva's Arranged Virgin Bride
Chapter 28 - Nat
He was gone again. Wouldn’t stay and fight, because he had nothing more to defend himself. Kolya knew exactly what he had done and how badly it had hurt me. Did he really not care? I stared at the space where he’d been standing, then my eyes fell to the broken easel on the floor, the two paint bottles that had rolled away after they struck him. One had come open, and red paint stained the bamboo floor like a puddle of fresh blood.
Anger and sadness overwhelmed me as I turned to the profile painting we had both started, untouched since that passionate and wonderful night. He promised to finish it and show me how beautiful I was to him. Another lie. All of it.
How could I possibly get the kind of revenge I wanted when it was clear as crystal how little I meant to him? I had to be the light of his life, the very beat of his heart, for my revenge to work. I was the only one who felt like my chest was being torn open. It was impossible to break the heart of a man who didn’t have one.
That hurt worse than the realization that I’d never make him suffer. The fact that maybe I didn’t want to anymore. That I would have rather just had him feel an inkling of what I used to feel for him.
I couldn’t stay in the studio anymore, facing the wreckage of my outburst. I didn’t want to stay in the house at all anymore, but there was no doubt in my mind that Kolya would find me wherever I was and drag me back. I was his bride. I’d made that decision to walk down the aisle. He made the decision that we’d remain married.
So, it was back to the guest room for me, my only refuge at the moment. When I got to our shared room to pack a fewthings, I was ready to keep fighting. Let him utter a single word about it. But he wasn’t in there, though there was a slip of paper resting on my pillow.
It was a hastily written note, telling me there was more trouble at the club and he would try not to be too late.
As if I cared. Was he trying to tell me he still wanted to talk it out, maybe even apologize? At that point, what was he apologizing for? He’d already offered to give me my money back and more, and the painting was lost forever. More tears slid down my cheeks, but I decided to stay in the room for the night, just to see if he was telling the truth.
The next morning, he was fast asleep beside me, and I studied how peaceful and almost boyish he looked. His dark hair was a stark contrast to our snowy white pillows, and the stern line between his brows was gone. I didn’t let my eyes travel down his bare chest, or to the hand that rested close to my own pillow, as if he’d reached out to me in the night.
Instead, I snuck out of bed and took a shower. It was up to him to make the first move, whatever it might be, and then I’d decide if I was going to kill him. Metaphorically speaking, of course.
By the time I finished up my long, blazing hot shower, he was waiting for me. Not doing something else, but waiting for me in his robe, with his arms crossed over his chest. The stern line was back, but melted away when he saw me. Crossing the few feet between us, all he did was fold me into his arms and hold on. It felt so right, but I held myself stiff, not about to get pulled in again.
“Go ahead and tell your family whatever you want,” he said into my hair. “I have nothing to hide from them.”
Could it be true? For once? Without answering, I nodded and pulled away as a bit of a test to see if he’d let me go. He did, and for the life of me, I couldn’t decide why that was so upsetting. Didn’t I want to see if he’d try to exert his control over me? And then, when he didn’t, I was disappointed.
Did he forgive me? Did I even do anything wrong? I was the one who was howling with rage the night before, but a little thing like getting an easel flung at him would be nothing to someone like Kolya. Now, all I felt was confusion on top of my sadness. It was only a couple more days until the next gallery show, and I wanted to see it through. I had certainly put enough hard work into it, and I still needed to deal with Visarrion after the bargain we struck.
I could still bring them both down and be done with it.
If only my heart were in it anymore. It wasn’t. I didn’t want to leave, but didn’t know if I could stay, either.
Nik had warned me that I didn’t have much time, and once he realized that Kolya probably wasn’t plotting against them, there’d be no reason for my uncles not to snatch me away, thinking they were extracting me from a completed mission.
I was still standing there in a befuddled haze when I realized Kolya had left the room. When I went downstairs, he was already out of the house. All I could do was continue to carry on like normal and go to the gallery to make sure everything was on track for the upcoming show. All day, I was listless and tired. Where was my drive? Where was the anger that had been my closest friend these past few months? I just felt nothing, completely empty.
When I got home, there was a giant bouquet of flowers in the front hall. Bougainvillea, daisies, sunflowers, hydrangeas, ariot of bright colors. I leaned in to breathe in the scents, finding the card that readStill not as beautiful as you.
Okay, how could I not smile at something like that? As I tucked the card back in its holder and walked further into the house, delicious aromas wafted from the kitchen to greet me. Kolya was going all out.
I knew my painting was gone forever. Maybe it was time to accept it and move on. Maybe.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he called, grinning at me as I entered the kitchen.
He was wearing a snug black T-shirt and faded, worn jeans, nothing like the imposing businessman most people saw him as.
“I could probably eat,” I said, sitting down.
I could see the packaging from my favorite restaurant pushed aside on the far counter, and I pretended along with him as he dished out the catered meal on our own plates. I had already learned that his prowess in the kitchen ended with fancy sandwiches, but this was nice, too.
We dug in, making small talk, getting back on an even keel. He didn’t outright apologize, but he was sweet and attentive, jumping up when our first bottle of wine was nearly empty to get another. By the end of the meal, we were joking and getting along, and it wasn’t just because I let myself get a bit tipsy from the good wine. It was him.
Maybe I could push the past aside and leave it there. Not forgotten, but maybe that would come with time. Right now, he was looking at me in a way that made everything else seem very unimportant.
The last bites of dessert lay uneaten on our plates when he stood up and held his hand out to me. “Let’s go outside and look at the stars.”
My hand fell into his without any input from my brain. He pulled me close to his side, leading me out to the deck. Grabbing a blanket, we headed down to the sand, cool now that the sun was down. He spread it out and sat, tugging me down beside him.
