Page 33 of Obsession of the Bratva

“You tracked my movements and my life for months, Nico. That is an invasion of my privacy.”

“Does it look like I care, Vera?”

The admission echoed between us. I didn’t deny it. I was not going to deny it. There was no point since she already knew. She had seen the photographs and the files, and everything was laid bare before her. Her expression shifted, confusion replacing anger. She had expected denial or maybe even shame. She wasn’t going to get either. I had spent months watching her build a future with another man. I wasn’t interested in pretending I regretted it.

“What exactly were you planning?” she demanded.

“I already did what I had been planning.”

Her face tightened. I turned away before I could say something worse. Before I could admit that seeing her in that church, ready to marry another man, had nearly broken me. Before I could admit that half the reason I had kidnapped her was because the thought of watching her marry somebody else felt impossible.

I walked past her and back towards the bedroom. The conversation should have ended there, but it didn’t because Vera followed. Of course she followed. The old Vera would have retreated, but the new Vera was furious. And somehow, I liked her more. That realization annoyed me almost as much as everything else.

“You don’t get to walk away from me when I am trying to talk to you.”

I grabbed a shirt from the wardrobe. “Watch me.”

“Nico.”

I turned, immediately regretting it. She looked angry. Determined. Beautiful. Every dangerous thing at once. The silence stretched, and then something unexpected happened. She smiled. Not warmly or kindly. It was the smile of a woman who had finally decided to stop playing nice.

“Good,” she said.

My brows lowered. “Good what?”

Her smile widened slightly. “You finally look alive again.”

Then she turned around and walked away, leaving me standing there alone. For several seconds, I simply stared after her, and then I laughed. The sound echoed through the room because, for the first time since I had taken her from that church, I understood something important. The obedient Vera who had spent days trying to reason with me was gone. The woman who had destroyed my office had taken her place. The woman who had deliberately provoked me this morning had no intention of surrendering.

She was angry now.

Dangerous and ready to fight.

And despite my fury, despite every reason I should have hated it, a part of me was thrilled. Finally. I already knew she was a worthy opponent. She was smart and capable and knew exactly how to push my buttons. Just the way she had done this morning.

I glanced toward the hallway where she had disappeared. Then I thought about the destroyed office and the scattered photographs. The ruined files. The challenge she had just thrown directly into my face.

A slow smile appeared. “Your turn is coming, Vera.”

And for the first time in days, I started planning. If she wanted a war, she was going to get a war, and Nico Romanov always struck back with the intentions of destruction.

Chapter 8 - Vera

For the rest of the morning, I could not stop thinking about the look on Nico’s face. It was true I had wanted to hurt him. That had been the entire point of the destruction of his office and the episode in his bathroom. I had been angry and humiliated. I had felt violated because of his stalking, and I had wanted him to feel just a fraction of what I felt.

Instead, all I could think about now was the split second before he had walked away from me.

The fury. The hurt. The betrayal. I had seen all of it in his eyes.

And somehow that felt worse than anything he had done to me.

I sat curled into the corner of the enormous couch overlooking the massive pool, a cup of untouched coffee cooling on the table beside me. The world continued at its pace beyond the mansion. Meanwhile, my life had narrowed down to a luxury prison and a man who hated me. A man I still loved. The realization hurt just as much as it always had.

Maybe more even, because now I had nowhere to hide from it. Months ago, I could at least pretend there was distance between us, but now I saw him every day. He occupied the room beside mine, and I heard his footsteps every time he stepped in or out. I could hear his voice. The occasional low murmur when he was on the phone.

And every reminder only made the loss sharper and reminded me of how much I missed him.

But I couldn’t give in. Every single day, the possibility of Papa finding out where I was kept grew, which brought him one step closer to hurting Nico. I hadn’t given up on the one thing I had ever wanted in my life in order to keep him safe, only to bring him into danger again. But I couldn’t let go of the sinking feeling that the truth of the situation would come out sooner or later, and a war would begin. A war that will inevitably reach this doorstep and drag Nico in it.