Page 85 of Owned Bratva Bride
“Hmm. I read. I’m not much of a kitchen person, but I cook just to feel better, at times. I watch movies, too. A lot.”
I knew she spent time in the study. I also knew she went to the kitchen often, although I was sure Agatha wouldn’t dare make her cook. She wouldn’t be so eager to lose her job and maybe an ear. But I had never seen Marielle watching a movie. I had never seen her in front of the TV.
“I never see you watch movies.”
“There hasn’t been the time or mood to Netflix and chill here.”
“Let’s do it tomorrow,” I suggested.
“What? You’d willingly watch a movie?”
“Yes. Do we have a date?”
“Yes,” she confirmed, smiling.
“On second thought, let’s make it Saturday. I wouldn’t have much to do at the warehouse. I should be back early.”
“Okay.”
***
Later that night, I found it difficult to fall asleep.
I’m doing it again.
I kept getting caught up with Marielle again. I was sabotaging my plan to stay away. The sound of her laughter and her face made me want to never leave her presence.
But this is dangerous.
I didn’t like the feeling that coursed through me whenever she noticed me stepping back. I needed to stop pulling her in and then pushing her away. I shouldn’t pull her in at all. That way, she’d get used to us being on different turf.
It’ll be easier for me that way.
The next morning, I left for the warehouse before she woke up.
I sent for a dress to be delivered to her later in the afternoon, just to have some form of contact with her.
When I got back, I went straight to my office until later in the night.
The days passed in the same fashion: sending her gifts I noticed she liked and barely talking to her.
But there was no denying it; she was leaving a mark on my world—a mark I was hesitant to erase.
Chapter 17 – Marielle
I didn’t feel so sure as I planned our movie date.
Eduard had gone back to his distant style after we talked and even laughed like friends. The man was the most unreadable human I’d met in my whole life. He was open in a moment and so far-off in the next.
I had thought that his busy work schedule was probably the reason the last time, but I wasn’t so sure anymore.
He would send me snacks that I only mentioned to him once, and then disappear into his home office when he got back from work. When he sent me a skimpy silk dress, I had been so excited to wear it for him. I had felt so admired that he bought me a dress, the type he knew I liked. But when he didn’t arrive until later at night, I canceled the idea. If he wanted to see me in the dress, he wouldn’t have locked himself in the study.
I never bothered to thank him for the gifts or even mention them since we hardly talked. His tight expression had become a standard look, and his short responses to my greetings were just grunts.
When he arrived the night before, I didn’t bother greeting him. It was of no use. It was only going to evoke that annoying feeling in me. The same feeling was currently making me arrange snacks on the center table in the sitting room. The feeling that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t actually distancing himself from me.
The feeling of a kind of likeness and even understanding toward him.
