Page 18 of Lobanov Bratva Obsession
“I’m not so sure,” I answered her.
Mila seemed to sense my tension and gently guided me toward the dining terrace. “Come, you haven’t eaten. We have things to catch up on.”
For the next two hours, I allowed myself the dangerous luxury of a normal, friendly conversation. We sat in the sunroom, eating small plates of blini and caviar, talking about people we used to know and the world outside these walls. Mila talked about the family, about the hidden kindnesses of the Lobanov brothers that the world never saw. She was trying to sell me on a life I couldn’t imagine to be true. But I needed the normalcy, so I let her.
But as the sun began to dip and she yawned, joking about being a mother had also turned her into a baby in some ways, and how annoying she sometimes found it, I remembered that an uncertain reality still awaited me. As we stepped out of the room, one of the guards approached me, telling me that Damian had asked him to bring me to the study. I wordlessly followed him.
Damian stood with his back to the window and, as soon as I stepped in and the guard disappeared, he walked towards me.
“I thought mob bosses were too involved in actual crimes to lie,” I spat before he could say anything, my gaze on his.
He looked exhausted, the shadows under his eyes deeper than they had been that morning, but his resolve was a wall of stone.
“I didn’t lie to you, Elena.”
“Oh, you didn’t. You just gave me partial information and disappeared, waiting for me to go crazy with the feeling of missing something and then come grovel at your knees for the real truth.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth.”
While his words were a warning, his expression was more like a plea.
“Then tell me the fucking truth. What the hell is going on? Why am I here?”
He stepped toward me.
“We’re getting married,” he revealed.
I jumped to my feet. “Sorry, what?”
“The Bratva requires stability. The lawsuit has made you a liability that no one will protect unless you’re claimed. Marriage is the only option.”
Covering my face with my hands, I groaned through clenched teeth. I wanted to scream, to throw things, but my fury had to be controlled. So, catching my breath, I removed my hands from my face.
“Do you know what you’re saying? Marriage was never part of the plan!” I fired.
“Now, it is.”
“More like, now you’re trying to use my body and name as a shield. I only agreed to help expose the traitor, not give up my autonomy.”
I expected him to argue that it wasn’t about either my name or body. But he didn’t.
“Without the Lobanov name, you’ll die. With it, nobody touches you,” he said instead, stepping within my private space.
Even in the midst of our smoldering argument, my body betrayed me. The pull between us felt so unbearable.
“It’s the best way to keep you covered,” he remarked, his voice dropping as he looked down into my eyes.
“We’re talking marriage. If you didn’t know before, it’s a lifetime thing,” I argued, my voice coming out way lower than I intended.
“I know.”
“I won’t marry you, Damian,” I declared, finding my resolve despite the pull.
“You already belong to the war, Elena. And I’m the only one who can keep you alive in it,” he answered.
I stepped out of the study and retreated into my assigned room, shaking with rage and desire. A minute later, I was in a room that rivaled that of a seven-star hotel. The dresser was large, and the queen-sized bed along the wall facing the heavy door was covered in lilac silk covers. On the other side, the door that definitely led to the bathroom stood beside a three-door wardrobe. It was regal, feminine, and exquisite in every sense. Just that I couldn’t bring myself to relax or even admire the room
Through the window, I could see that preparations were going on unhindered.
