Page 20 of Used By the Merciless Bratva
I was still unsettled with anger as I looked outside the windows several minutes after he left the room.
I was angry at myself for making such a stupid mistake by tampering with a device I knew nothing about. I was angry at my body for refusing to ignore the feel of his touch. I was angry at the proud, annoyingly attractive criminal and the cool confidence with which he spoke.
However, my greatest anger was at the situation itself.
I never thought I would be in the same room with the man who killed my father. But now, I didn’t just set my eyes on him; I was in his fucking house. My situation didn’t just put me in danger; it tied me to the man I should hate the most.
His ridiculous offer of a solution was the icing on the cake.
I dropped the drapes gathered in my hand when I heard the click of the door again.
I was torn between wanting it to be him and hating the very thought of seeing his face again. Although I wanted to yell in his face, I didn’t want him around me.
The door opened, and I turned around as a young man entered the room with a covered tray in his hand.
Food.
It was funny how I didn’t think about food all day when I would have withered if it were any other day.
“Hello,” the man greeted, his dark chestnut eyes blinking once. “I brought you food.”
“Clearly,” I remarked, folding my arms as he went over to the table by the east wall and dropped the tray after slipping some papers from beneath it.
I couldn’t help but swallow as the aroma of whatever was in the tray hit my nose.
“We’re not the enemies,” he uttered as I sat at the edge of the bed.
“Hm, you just brought me here out of charity,” I answered.
He gave a small laugh as he brought a stool to me.
“Far from charity,” he said, placing the papers on the table beside the tray and transporting the tray to the stool in front of me. “You’re in danger. Being here is the only safe choice you have.”
“Did you just saychoice? You mean the choice your colleagues made when they grabbed me and hauled me here?”
“I was one of them, actually,” he disclosed, sporting a crooked smile.
I looked up at him with surprised eyes.
“Were you the one who grabbed my ankle or the one who threatened me?”
He laughed again. “Can we cut that part out?”
“Hm, no,” I answered, shaking my head.
He went over to the table and picked up the papers. Handing them to me, he said, “You should sign this.”
It didn’t take three seconds of perusal for me to know what the papers were for.
A marriage license.
I looked up from the papers to find the pen he was passing to me.
“Did he not hear when I told him this wouldn’t happen?” I asked, lifting the papers to him. “I’m not signing any powers.”
“The boss wants you to sign it. There’s never a no with him,” he said, still not taking the papers from me.
“I’ll tear it into shreds if you don’t take it back to him,” I said, making him collect it from me instantly.
