Page 24 of Innocent Plus-Size Bride of the Bratva
My heart is hammering as I walk away, each footstep echoing my own warning.
“You’re not as innocent as you pretend.”
Back in the corridor, I keep my pace steady. I do not look back, but I feel the pull of her behind me, like gravity.
In my chest, the chaos churns, hot and dark. She is a temptation I cannot afford, a danger I cannot name, but I do not want to let go.
I replay every moment—her stare, the fire in her voice, the way she didn’t deny what she wanted. I know I should be angry, should be cold. But underneath it all is something sharper: anticipation. I want more. I want to push until one of us breaks, until the truth is out in the open, raw and undeniable.
I tell myself it’s over, that I can step away, lock the door on whatever this is. But I know better.
In the dark, I hear her voice, defiant and soft. I see her eyes, daring me to call her bluff.
We are both liars here. Both lost.
This game—ours alone—is nowhere near finished.
I don’t make it far before I hear the telltale sound of heels against polished marble. It’s a sharp, staccato rhythm that could only belong to one woman in this house.
Yelena rounds the corner, elegant in black, lips painted in a perfect red that never smudges, no matter how many staff she’s just cut down with a word.
She doesn’t bother with a greeting. Instead, she falls into step beside me, matching my stride, eyes sliding over my face with open calculation. Her perfume clouds the air between us—familiar, suffocating, expensive.
“You’re in a mood,” she says quietly, tone playful but edged in steel. “Care to share what’s gone wrong now? Or should I guess?”
I keep my expression flat, refusing to rise to the bait. “Not now, Yelena.”
She arches a brow. “You know, it’s rude to leave your fiancée to entertain guests alone. People will talk.”
Let them, I think. I say nothing.
She steps closer, lowering her voice, her tone dropping to something more dangerous. “Or is this about your little intern?” She leans in, her mouth close to my ear. “I saw her storm out of your office just now. You should remember who’s watching, Adrian. Who you owe.”
I pause, turning to meet her gaze. She searches my face, waiting for a reaction: a flicker of guilt, a crack in my control. I give her nothing.
“Careful, Yelena,” I say softly. “Some things are best left unspoken.”
Her smile goes brittle. She straightens, composure flawless once more. “You forget, I’m not afraid of a little competition.”
I pause, letting Yelena’s words linger in the air between us.
She steps closer, blocking my path, her hand coming to rest lightly on my arm. Her grip is deceptively gentle, her nails cool against my sleeve.
“You think I don’t see what’s happening?” she murmurs, eyes narrowed, her voice low and intimate. “You watch her, Adrian. More than you should. It’s obvious.”
I hold her gaze, refusing to flinch. “Be careful, Yelena. Your jealousy is showing.”
She laughs, soft and cold, the sound echoing in the empty corridor. Is it jealousy, or is it self-preservation? “Don’t forget why we’re here, what we’re supposed to be. Scandal wouldn’t just ruin me, Adrian. It would ruin you too.”
She tilts her head, studying my face as if searching for something human beneath the stone. “Are you really so careless? Or is she just that dangerous?”
I say nothing, knowing that any answer would only fuel her.
Yelena’s grip tightens for a moment, then relaxes. “You think you can play with fire and walk away unburned.” She steps back, her gaze lingering, full of warning. “Just remember when this ends badly, it won’t be me who pays the price.”
She releases my arm and finally glides away, leaving the scent of her perfume and the threat in her words hanging heavy in the hallway. For a long moment, I stand alone, the weight of the coming storm pressing in from every side.
Chapter Eleven - Talia
