“You’re insane,” she spat, trying to twist away from me. “I’m not signing anything.”
I tightened my grip, pulling her closer until we were chest to chest. “Yes, you are. Because if you don’t, I’m going to go straight for your brothers, and you don’t want that, do you?”
Her eyes widened in terror at my threat.
“They’ll kill you,” she whispered.
“They haven’t managed to do that so far,” I answered. “You really want to see how that ends?”
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, her voice breaking.
“Because your brother took something from me,” I said simply. “Now I’m taking something from him. You’re no stranger to our world. An eye for an eye, right?”
“Last I heard, an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind,” she hissed back, with defiance.
“So be it,” I insisted, handing her the pen and forcing her wrist to stop above the signature line. “Sign here, and your family stays safe. If not? I swear there’ll be war on your doorstep before you can even say no.”
She took a moment, her gaze averted to the marriage license, her hand trembling as she thought. But I knew, deep in my heart, that nothing mattered more to Beatrice than herfamily. Even in the haze of her panic from that fire, she asked about her sisters.
It was a wild bet, but one I had to take.
I was proven right when, at last, with tears spilling down her cheeks, she put the pen to paper.
“There,” she said, throwing the pen like it had burned her. “Happy now?”
“Depends,” I answered, picking up the papers and tucking them into my jacket pocket.
God, she looked furious, and for some reason, I reveled at the sight of her anger and defiance. All this while, I thought she was a sweet little thing, but ever since she ran, ever since she started smart-mouthing me, I discovered Beatrice Lebedev wasn’t just a sight for sore eyes. She was more, and I wanted to explore every aspect of that.
“Depends on what?” she hissed, finally meeting my gaze.
“Depends on how much of a fight you put up, Mrs. Pavlov.”
Chapter 4 - Beatrice
Mrs. Pavlov, my foot. Just being called that made me want to vomit.
I was furious at having to sign those damn papers.
Viktor had flirted with me all night because he wanted to use me as some cheap bargaining chip in his twisted revenge plot, and I, like a giddy little fool, had fallen for a pair of blue eyes, only to later learn that he wasn’t even called Viktor.
Fucking Arko Pavlov. He totally played me. Maybe I should’ve gotten ‘stupid’ tattooed on my forehead like my brother Federico suggested back when I’d entered college and forgot to show up for a midterm as a freshman.
Stupid, stupid me. I should have remembered that I was a Lebedev and that there was a reason my family didn’t easily trust outsiders. If I’d stayed in my lane, I wouldn’t have found myself in this impossible situation.
God, what would my brothers say when they find out that I married the Pavlov Pakhan? They’ll be furious I got myself in this position, yes, but then again, I didn’t really have a choice. It was either this or letting him carry out the threats he made against my family, and I couldn’t let that happen.
So, of course had to marry him. I hoped, against all rational sense, that my brothers would forgive me when they found out.
“Ready to go?” Viktor asked.
“What, this little kidnapping shack isn’t honeymoon material?” I spat out.
He smiled, and I felt the urge to slap it right off his face.
“Let’s go,” he repeated, and when I refused to move, he took hold of my arm.
I wanted to fight, but was tired and exhausted, and struggling against the inevitable felt like a waste of precious energy.
