Page 15 of Innocent Plus-Size Bride of the Bratva
“For now.” I don’t elaborate.
She gives me a look—sharp, searching for meaning—but I offer nothing. I excuse myself, claiming business, and slip away toward the library.
The security chief, always hovering at the periphery, looks up as I enter.
I stand at the window, watching the last of the guests depart in a string of headlights. Talia is among the last to leave, her coat wrapped tight, her posture still proud even in the shadow of the estate. She pauses at the bottom of the steps, as if taking a mental picture of the building. For a moment, she glances up at the darkened windows. I stay out of sight but feel the weight of her attention, even at a distance.
When she’s gone, I linger in the quiet. My mind drifts over the evening—not the threats, not the old feuds or the business whispered behind raised glasses, but the puzzle of her: the sharpness, the wariness, the resilience that refuses to soften even under scrutiny.
It is reckless, I know, but I have made a career out of trusting my instincts, even when they run counter to caution. I want to see what Talia Benett will do when the walls close around her, when the boundaries between guest and captive, observer and participant, begin to blur.
Later, when I see Yelena drifting through the halls, her laughter echoing, I turn away. Her games are old, predictable, hollow. What I want now is something different. Something that refuses to yield, that stirs a challenge I can taste.
Before I sleep, I send the order again: Talia, to the inner office. My territory. My rules.
Just close enough to watch. Just far enough to pretend it means nothing.
I remind myself, as I have every night for years—control is everything.
As I close my eyes, the image that stays with me is not of the table, the business, or even Yelena’s poisonous beauty.
It is of Talia, silent and self-possessed, holding her place in the center of the storm. I am not certain if that is a victory… or the start of something I cannot control at all.
Chapter Seven - Talia
I wake with Yelena’s words ringing in my ears—“Cheap blouse and big eyes.”
She didn’t even look at me when she said it, her tone as offhand as a yawn, a flick of her hand dismissing me entirely. It wasn’t just arrogance, it was something colder. Dismissal. As if I didn’t even rate a proper insult. That stings more than I want to admit.
Worse, Adrian said nothing to defend me. Not a word. Just silence, as if I really was invisible.
Lying there, staring at the ceiling, I realize something has to change. If I want to survive in this world—long enough to find what happened to Eli—I can’t let myself be a background detail. I can’t wait to be noticed. I need to step forward, on purpose. Force them to see me. Rattle Yelena’s composure. Make Adrian look again.
I start small. Instead of hiding behind my usual knot of hair, I wear my curls loose, letting them frame my face. I choose clothes that fit me better, that show I care, even if it’s just a touch of color, a necklace I never wore before.
The change is subtle, but I feel it. When I walk into a room, I keep my head up, spine straight, eyes scanning not just for threats, but for opportunities.
I force myself to make eye contact, especially with Adrian. The first time, in the corridor outside his office, I hold his gaze for a heartbeat longer than I mean to. He doesn’t smile, but his eyes linger. I count that as a win.
At meetings, I time my questions carefully. I listen, wait for a lull, then offer a comment or a suggestion just when no one expects me to speak. I make sure my voice is steady, myideas practical but unexpected. The first time, no one reacts. The second time, Adrian glances up, eyes sharp with interest.
Little by little, I stop letting myself blend in. I sit where I can be seen. I walk into rooms like I belong there. I nod at security, say good morning to the senior staff, make myself visible and impossible to ignore.
Every step forward feels like a risk, but I take it anyway. I want them uneasy, off-balance. I want Yelena to watch me, even if it’s just to sneer. I want Adrian to wonder what I’ll do next.
Adrian never says much, but I see it, the way his gaze drifts to me when I speak, the way he waits for me to finish. He’s watching. For the first time, I feel the balance start to shift, and I’m ready to make the most of it.
Evening falls slow and cold over the estate, the old stone walls trapping warmth and secrets in equal measure. I spend an hour reworking the personnel files for tomorrow, cross-checking names and departments, fingers stiff from typing and my mind tight with exhaustion. I’m supposed to be off duty, but I know there’s no such thing anymore.
Adrian’s study is just ahead, a pool of golden light in the otherwise shadowed corridor. I clutch the folder of files to my chest, rehearsing how to announce myself, how to sound competent but not overeager.
My shoes are soft on the old carpet, and I round the corner just as I hear voices—Adrian’s, deep and steady, and Yelena’s, unmistakable in her cool, syrupy drawl.
She stands close to him, hand on his arm, her body angled to block the door. The smile on her lips is all artifice, the steel in her voice as clear as crystal.
“Come out with me, darling,” she purrs, her tone sweet but tight. “Just the two of us. We could get away for a few hours.Dinner, drinks… somewhere private. I think you could use the break.”
I pause, heartbeat fluttering, not wanting to listen but unable to help it. The way she saysprivateis almost a warning, as if she’s reminding him, and anyone who might hear, of what’s supposed to be hers.
