Page 37 of The Pakhan's Arranged Bride
Belle is such a sweet girl. We get on so well, and if it weren’t for my lies, this could be a genuine friendship.
It is a genuine friendship—but I’m an asshole.
It’s not fair of me.
After breakfast, I tell her I have to get home before Benedikt pops in to check that I’m still there, and she laughs. The real reason I want to leave is that I’m struggling with my internal thoughts.
I also can’t figure out what happens after I get the revenge I’m so determined to have.
When this all started, I thought I’d just negotiate a divorce with Benedikt, but now I don’t want that. I don’t know what I want.
On the way home, I stop at the city park. I miss the beach and the natural beauty of San Francisco. Las Vegas is beautiful in its own way, but it’s all neon lights and loud noises.
I need a moment to think, and the park is the first place I can think of that isn’t drowning in electric lights.
Walking through the trees and past a gentle flowing stream with a carryout coffee in my hand, I watch people interacting with each other. Lovers, friends, families, children playing.
I wonder who I am to Benedikt.
He made it clear when he suggested the marriage to Nestor that it was for the benefit of appeasing his mother and building a stronger alliance with my family. But since then, he hasn’t acted as though it’s just a marriage of convenience. He’s been protective and possessive and caring. And frustrating and bossy and aggravating.
I huff loudly, and a lady walking nearby turns to look at me curiously. I smile at her, then quickly turn away.
Walking back towards the car, I still can’t come to a solid answer about what is going on between Benedikt and me. I’m not ready to analyze it deeply enough.
Glancing at my watch, I realize it’s late afternoon by the time I climb into the car. I got lost in a daydream walking around the park, but I do feel better now. My head is clearer.
In my car, I put some music on and pull out into the street, driving slowly and enjoying the lively views around me. When I get home, I see Benedikt’s car in the driveway and groan. He’s going to be angry that I went out. Anxiety churns my stomach. I take a deep breath and push it away.
No.
I made it clear to him that I won’t be a prisoner here. Going on the day after the fight is a good thing. It sets my boundaries right away.
He’s just going to have to deal with it.
I won’t even hide from him; I’ll go and find him and say hello and make a point of asking how his day was.
Inside, the house is quiet. I peek into the kitchen, the living room, the library, our bedroom—eventually, I find Benedikt in his office. He’s asleep in the office chair, his arms folded over his chest and his head tilted backwards.
My heart flickers.
Yesterday was crazy for both of us and I never once asked him if he was okay.
Maybe it’s me who is the asshole. Not him.
I go through to our bedroom and pull the spare blanket off the bed and head back to the office to wrap it over him.
I gently pull it up over his legs and chest, letting out a sigh of frustration at myself. I wonder what it would have been like to meet him under different circumstances?
For a moment, I stare at his beautiful features, his dark lashes and ruffled dark chocolate hair.
The shadow of stubble over his face and his perfectly shaped jaw.
I drag my eyes off him, turning away.
But to my surprise, he grabs my wrist. I yelp in fright, and he still doesn’t let go.
His eyes are sharply focused on me, bright and intense as he watches me.
