Page 55 of The Russian's Bought Bride

His gaze flicks toward me briefly, looking too neutral for me to read. “You probably don’t want the real answer to that.”

“That’s likely true.”

Silence stretches awkwardly after that, and every piece of me hates it. I hate how quickly things have shifted back to uncertainty and too many questions left unanswered.

Desperate to reclaim some sense of normalcy, I latch onto the first thing that comes to mind, even if he’s not being very receptive already.

“I’ve been thinking…about my job at the bookstore.”

That gets more of his attention immediately, and he raises his head to meet my gaze again. “From before?”

I nod.

Before everything imploded in my face, the small independent bookstore downtown had been my one escape, even if it came with mundane, repetitive tasks. It wasn’t glamorous, but I loved the smell of old paper, how it felt to organize shelves and recommend novels to regular customers who trusted my taste.

It had been safe, simple, and something that couldn’t be taken away from me. Of course, until it was.

“I want to go back eventually,” I continue quietly, urging the words out. “I know things are complicated right now, but I miss it.”

Nikolai’s expression barely changes, not given an indication that he’s considering anything. “That’s nice, but you don’t need the job.”

I blink back at him, startled by the simple response. “What?”

“You don’t need to work there anymore. Not when you have everything you need here.”

Something about that claim feels far too permanent, and not at all what we’ve discussed. Without warning, that dismissal sparks irritation under my skin.

“That’s not the point.”

“It’s not safe right now anyway. You know that.”

“I said eventually,” I return, hating how it feels to not be considered. “And it would be nice to have something that doesn’t make me feel like a prisoner.”

Nikolai sighs at that, closing his eyes briefly before sidestepping that last part. “Regardless, you still don’t need it.”

There’s something in his tone that instantly rubs me the wrong way. It’s too definitive, like he’s already decided for me and assumes he knows what’s best.

I cross my arms. “I liked working there.”

“You can like doing something else…here.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” I utter, staring at him in complete disbelief. “You said this was temporary.”

“It is,” Nikolai mutters, but the way his jaw tightens seems to say otherwise. “Christ…I’m trying to make things easier for you. You don’t need to worry about all of this.”

“By deciding what I should do with my own life?”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

“It absolutely is,” I fire back, losing any sort of grip on my anger now.

He exhales slowly, like he’s already getting tired of the conversation and is tempted to say whatever he needs to. “Danielle—”

“No,” I cut in sharply. “You don’t get to tell me what parts of my life matter and what don’t. That bookstore mattered to me, and I’ll be damn lucky if they offer me a position again after I disappeared.”

His gaze sharpens slightly at my tone, but instead of arguing further, he just mutters, “We’ll talk about it later.”

And just like that, the conversation is over because he says so.