Page 55 of Forced By the Bratva

“Hey, watch it!” Iris warned him before I could even form a thought in my head.

This asshole had no idea whom he was talking to. Another man his age, whom I assumed was his friend, pulled him and whispered something in his ear.

His eyes widened instantly, that arrogance dissolving into absolute terror. “Mr. Tarasov, I apologize, I had no idea…”

“Get…lost.”

He and his friend wasted no time fleeing the scene.

I turned toward her. “We’re leaving.”

“What?”

“Now.”

The drive back was silent. I was at the wheel, eyes fixed on the winding road ahead, while she sat in the passenger seat with her arms crossed.

I was furious at the sight of her with that son of a bitch, and the more I remembered how he looked at her, the angrier I grew. A small part of me tried to remind me that she actually stood up for me. But I was too angry to think straight.

“Slow down,” she said, bracing herself as the vehicle began speeding up.

I didn’t. Instead, I tightened my grip on the steering wheel and stepped on the gas.

“Ilya, slow down!” she barked at me, slamming her palm on the dashboard.

I veered the car off the road and pulled over by the curb, tires screeching loudly.

“What the hell was that about?” She glared at me, her voice dripping with fury. “You could’ve killed us. Why, because you were jealous?!”

“You don’t know who that bastard is—”

“I don’t care who he is; he was just talking to me. There was absolutely no need to make a scene!”

“Oh, yeah? Do you have any idea how many girls he’s lured into his bed with that tactic?”

“Excuse me?” She furrowed her brows, as if insulted by my response. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

My voice fell silent.

“Do you honestly think that because you had it easy with me, I’m accessible to just anybody?” Her tone was bitter, laced with disdain, as angry veins lined her forehead. “Wow.”

“I never said that.”

“It was implied,” she insisted, fuming. “And it’s not the first time. You always do this. The other day, you chased Anatoli out of the kitchen because he was talking to me.”

“He should’ve known his place; he’s a bodyguard, not a private comedian,” I growled.

“Speaking of guards,” she continued immediately. “It’s come to my attention that they’re not allowed anywhere within three feet of my door.”

I listened in silence.

“They’re not allowed to speak with me or even look me directly in the eyes. Not just them, the domestic staff too.” The frustration in her tone was evident in how quickly the words burst out. “This marriage might’ve freed me from the Bratva, but it clearly didn’t free me from you!”

I hesitated, the sound of her ragged breaths filling the car’s cabin.

“I was just trying to protect you,” I said quietly.

She let out a sharp breath, and her voice dropped a little below average as she stared at me. “You can’t keep caging me and call it protection, Ilya.”