Page 46 of Forced to Marry the Russian Pakhan
It’s just us.
I glance down at his hand resting on the window ledge beside mine. Close. Not touching. But close enough.
“I don’t belong here,” I murmur.
“You do,” he says. “They just don’t know it yet.”
I lift my gaze to meet his. “Really?”
His eyes burn into mine. “I knew you’d fit right in and rule these circles the second you told me to let you do your job in that ER.”
Heat pulses through me like a current, and I don’t feel afraid.
Not this time.
Chapter 12 - Trifon
The way she looks at me right now makes the room disappear. Her eyes catch the light like emeralds—the most precious eyes in this room. She doesn’t belong here, she’s right about that—but not for the reasons she thinks. She’s too honest for this crowd, too real. The rest of us? We’re all wearing masks, playing parts. But Yulia? Even forced into this life, she refuses to pretend. And fuck me if that doesn’t make me want her more than I should.
“I should check on Nadya,” she says, breaking our stare first. “Make sure she’s not overdoing it with that leg.”
I glance over. Nadya’s holding court by the bar, soaking up attention despite the bandage on her leg. “She’s fine. Already flirting with someone twice her size.”
Yulia smiles—really smiles. “She reminds me of me at that age. Always had something to prove.”
“And now?”
She sips her champagne, thoughtful. “Still do. Just to myself.”
The noise around us surges, but we’re in our own quiet corner. I study her profile, the elegant curve of her neck, the soft smile on her face.
“You want to get out of here?” I ask.
Her eyes widen. “We can do that? I thought this was some big family thing.”
“I’m the head of the family,” I say, smirking. “We leave when I say.”
She tilts her head, skeptical. “You’re sure your brothers won’t mind?”
“They’re halfway to blackout,” I say, nodding at Leonid’s fourth vodka. “We’ve done our part.”
Relief flickers across her face before she tampers it down. “Alright. If you’re sure.”
I place a hand at the small of her back. “I’m sure.”
We move through the crowd. Nadya pouts dramatically when Yulia hugs her, making her promise to visit soon. Darya gives me a knowing look I choose to ignore. My brothers raise their glasses in salute, already deep in their cups.
Yulia’s still flushed when we leave the gala.
I can’t stop looking at her. That dress clings like it was sewn for my hands to remove, and her mouth—God, that mouth—has been driving me insane all night.
She thinks she’s hiding her nerves better now after our little chat. But I noticed the way her pulse fluttered when I stood too close, the way her lips parted when I caught her staring at me.
We step into the car. I let the driver shut the door and slide in beside her. She tugs at the edge of her slit, pulling it modestly over her thigh.
I smirk, but don’t say a word.
“What?” she says, catching me watching.
