Page 44 of The Cold Bratva King and His Forced Curvy Bride

Our eyes meet.

I know I look guilty. I know my face is pale, my eyes too wide, but I try to mask it with indifference.

“You’re back early,” I say, my voice sounding steady to my own ears.

He studies me for a long moment, his gaze dissecting. He looks past me, into the office, scanning the room with a predator’s precision.

“Meeting was cancelled,” he says, stepping closer. “What are you doing in here?”

“Bored,” I lie, keeping my body relaxed. “I was looking for something to read. This place is like a library, except all the books are about murder and money laundering.”

He doesn’t smile. He reaches out, taking my chin in his hand, tilting my face up to the light.

“You’re flushed,” he observes.

“It’s warm in here.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I think I might be dehydrated. I’ll get some water from the kitchen.”

He stares at me, his expression unreadable. He knows something is off. He can sense the shift in the air, but he doesn’t know what.

He can’t know about the file. He can’t know I saw the signature.

“You should be in the dining room,” he says, finally dropping his hand. “Anna is making lunch.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’ll eat.”

He walks past me into the office. I stiffen, waiting for him to go to the cabinet. To check the file. Instead, he walks to the desk. He picks up a pen, twirling it between his fingers.

“I have a gift for you,” he says, his back to me.

The non-sequitur throws me off. “A gift?”

“Turn around.”

I hesitate, then do as he asks.

He moves behind me, his presence a wall of heat at my back. I feel him reach out, something cold brushing against my neck.

I look down.

A pendant.

It’s heavy and gold, with a large, dark stone set in the center. An onyx, maybe, or a black diamond. It’s beautiful, but it feels like a weight.

“It belonged to my mother,” he says, fastening the clasp. “She gave it to me before she died. I want you to have it.”

I reach up, touching the stone. It’s smooth, cold against my fingertips. “Why?” I ask, turning to face him.

“Because you’re my wife,” he says simply. “You need to learn that being mine comes with benefits as well as restrictions.”

The words twist in my gut.

He thinks he’s claiming me. Nikita has no idea that I’m currently holding the evidence of his crimes against my family in my pocket.