Page 14 of The Russian's Forced Bride
Rafael leaned forward in his seat, took out the cigarette in his hands, and put it out in the ashtray on the table between us.
“You have a lot of learning to do. But I have a lot of patience, so I’ll tolerate your bullshit for now.”
I gawked at him in disbelief, wondering if he was deaf.
“What part of ‘I’d rather die than marry you’ didn’t you understand?” I seethed, now rising to my feet in defiance.
“Sit down,” he ordered me, his voice dangerously low and terrifyingly calm.
“No.”
“Sit down, Arlette.”
I could see a muscle in his jaw twitch, a quiet yet simmering rage building in the pools of his dark eyes, but I was stubborn. And I wanted him to hate me so badly he’d pull out of this cursed marriage, so no matter how intimidated I felt, I couldn’t back down.
“You’d have to kill me before I ever listened to any bullshit from—”
My words hung in the air as he rose from his seated position, pointing a gun directly at my head. A coldness filled my lungs as the metallic object stared me in the face. One click, and I would be gone—dead just like Father.
Rafael’s gaze had returned to its usual coldness, and looking into it, I knew there was a ninety percent chance he would pull the trigger if I pushed him further.
“Finish that sentence,” he dared me.
My hands shook at my sides as our heavy breathing filled the air like thick mist. This man wasn’t bluffing. He could kill me right now and just dismiss it as collateral damage. I knew he was silently unhinged, but to think he’d actually point a gun at my face….
“You’re threatening me now, just ’cause I don’t want to marry you?” My voice wavered as I tried to suppress my emotions.
“You said you’d rather die. So finish that fucking sentence so I can blow your head off.”
I swallowed back the words I wanted to tell him as I sank onto the sofa with a defeated plop, feeling my eyes sting.
God! I’d been so sure I was ready to die, but I was scared shitless having a gun actually pointed at me.
And this man…this man was no better than the devil himself.
Satisfied that he had frightened me enough, he slipped his Glock back into his suit jacket and sat down again, while I stared at my trembling fingers, unable to believe I might live with this monster until the day I took my last breath.
When I was engaged to Matvey, I hadn’t felt this kind of fear. I wasn’t happy either, sure, but there was no pressure tightening my chest or threatening my very existence.
I truly felt like I had lost my wings, reduced to nothing more than a mindless puppet.
“We’ll be holding the wedding in a week,” he told me, voice clipped. “And in a few days, we’ll check out estates here in Chicago, where we can settle in.”
I nodded, suddenly too tired to say anything else.
Was I really just going to leave my whole life behind? The reality of how fucked I was now truly dawned on me.
“Good. I’ll pick you up at your place when the time comes.”
And with that, he stood up, and I could feel his eyes burning into the side of my head, which was still hanging low as my eyes stayed on the floor.
It seemed like he wanted to say something else, but instead, he muttered a curse under his breath before walking out, slamming the door behind him and leaving me all alone in the lounge.
And all I could think about was how I would survive being married to that man and eventually be forced to carry his child.
My life had now officially become hell on earth.
Chapter 5 – Rafael
