Page 16 of The Pakhan's Forced Bride
“I was waiting for my contact. The one who was going to get me out of here,” she snaps.
I chuckle, a low, angry amusement rumbling through me.
“Pity I beat him to it.”
Ignoring the stares of other shoppers around us, I drag Belle back to my car, strap her into the passenger seat, and drive her home.
The new security team better be fucking prepared. How the fuck did she get out and manage to make contact with someone without any of the guards seeing? I almost lost her before the plan even started.
I won’t accept this lack of professionalism.
I glance at Belle, her arms folded over her chest, her lower lip pouted out as she sulks.
Or her attitude.
Chapter 5 - Belle
After a massive argument on the way home from my shopping trip, which he so rudely interrupted, I informed Ardalion that locking me away is pointless. I will keep escaping the room.
He snapped back that I no longer need to be confined to the room, but that his guards have been tripled and there will be no chance of me getting off the mansion grounds again.
That means I can’t explore LA, and I’m furious about it.
I clearly made a mistake telling him that I was there to meet my contact to escape. I should have said something else. Now he’s doubled down on me being a prisoner, and I’m going crazy.
I’ve been trapped inside his mansion for three days. All I want to do is see the city. What’s the point of being here if I can’t enjoy it?
My anger has been on a low, constant simmer, always directed at Ardalion. I never miss a chance to start a fight with him to remind him just how agitated I am.
This morning, I got up early to make my own breakfast and found him already awake and in the kitchen. That annoyed me.
He offered to make me coffee. That also annoyed me.
“Stop pretending to be chivalrous. And I don’t imagine you would know how to make a decent cup of coffee anyway,” I snarl, pulling the fridge open to find the milk. I know I sound like a child. I’ve been arguing with him over anything and everything. I get the feeling that his patience is wearing thin, and it makes me happy. I want him to be as annoyed as I am.
“Stop being a brat, and you might realize I’m not as bad as you make me out to be,” he snaps back.Dammit, he’s hot.That T-shirt is so well-fitted I can see the outline of every muscle across his chest. And when he folds his arms and looks down at me, his biceps pull taut, and thick tendons ripple over his forearms.
And the tattoos down his arms are gorgeous.
One side has a full sleeve, a Japanese-style wave, curling over his entire arm—dammit, I’m staring.I wonder what other tattoos he has?
Everything about him is sexy.Why does he have to be so sexy?
I shake my head, pushing away the building attraction.
Stop admiring him and just use him to vent your anger.
“A brat? I’m locked up in this stupid house with nothing to do and nowhere to go, and you expect me to be happy about it?”
“I don’t expect anything from you, Belle,” he says, his eyes roaming over my body. His gaze seems hungry, intense. Suddenly, I’m self-conscious and awkward, wondering what he’s thinking about me and my curves.
He steps towards me, and I back up against the open fridge, cold air against my back as he stands there glaring down at me.
“You’re arguing with me aboutnothing. Looking for trouble. I’ve already warned you about your attitude, little bunny. Don’t make me say it twice,” he says, his black ears piercing into me.
His voice runs over me like warm caramel, and I can’t tear my eyes off his.
He’s right.
