Page 75 of Mistaken
“Don’t you ever say that to me again!” Ella screams. She’s unhinged now and topples over a table lamp to add to the rubble on the floor. “You were a complete monster to me! You forced me to marry you! But oh,” she chuckled nastily, “even then I could still see your redeeming qualities. You would never allow human trafficking in your Bratva. You at least loved your sisters. Oh yeah, right up to the point where you’re pimping them out!”
Looking for something else to break, she headed for a sculpture on a stand by the window. But this was a crystal dragon piece from the Ming Dynasty and I could not let her destroy it.
“Stop!” I wasn’t shouting but my voice cut across her shrill one as I seized her wrists, crossing them over her chest and immobilizing her against me.
The door opens and Fedor and Ivan tumble in, guns drawn. They’re shocked at the sight; I’m holding a thrashing, cursing Ella and my study is in shambles. A wide-eyed Alina is trying to get a look over their shoulders.
“You may leave,” I say coldly.
They both instantly turn and leave the room, though I note Ivan sends a worried glance over his shoulder at my shrieking bride. I hold her against me until her struggling weakens and her attempts to kick me stop.
“Can you be calm long enough to listen to me?” I growl into her ear.
Her ass has been rubbing against me this entire time and I’m getting hard. If she doesn’t stop fighting me, there’s going to be a bigger problem than her screaming fit.
“You are a disgusting human being,” Ella hisses, with a quiver at the end that tells me she’s about to cry.
“Sit down and we’ll talk.” She angrily pulls away from me the second I loosen my grip, but she does sit down, eyes blazing with hate in a way I haven’t seen in a while.
Leaning against my desk, I folded my arms and waited for her harsh breaths to slow.
“How could you do this to Mariya?” Her eyes are wet as she glares at me.
“I told you that I did not allow my father to give a thirteen-year-old Ekaterina in marriage to that vile old pervert for his alliance. I did not say that I would not arrange good unions for my sisters. This is the way it has always been.”
“This is the twenty-first century,” she hissed, “women aren’t cattle. This is your little sister, she’s fourteen, did you forget that?”
“She and Konstantin are not getting married tomorrow,” I scoffed, “Mariya will go to school, and have a normal teenage life - at least as close to a normal upbringing as Mother and I can manage. You’ve met Kon, he’s strong and smart. He’ll be a good man just like his father. My job as their brother is to make sure they are married to men who will treat them well, and with respect. Alexi and Lucya are the only other Bratva family I trust. This alliance is crucial, Ella. We are being attacked on all sides and I cannot hold without this alliance. We are no closer to finding who is behind this - or how many - but they intend to destroy the Morozov Bratva. And our family. Do you understand what could happen to my sisters if Yuri and I are killed? What could happen to you?”
This doesn’t scare her. “Don’t throwmeinto your magnificent protection plan,” she snarls, “none of this is about, orforme. Won’t Alexi and Lucya help you because of your friendship? Because they’re good people?”
I shake my head at her naivete. “They are good, as good as people can be in this world. But no family risks their own safety without something in return. This alliance strengthens us both.”
Ella’s rubbing her face, I can see she’s trying to calm down. “Does Mariya know that this was always the future you had planned for her?”
“Every Bratva princess knows this is her future,” I say flatly.
“Ugh, don’t call them that,” she hisses, “they’re not dolls. They’re young women, with dreams and goals. Not that you care. What if she says no?”
I’m grinding my teeth, holding onto my temper by my fingertips. “She won’t.”
Standing up, she stares at me, her fury tempered down now to a chilly rage. “Promise me you’ll tell her. Right now. Promise me you’ll at least ask her what she thinks.”
Irritated by her audacity, her rudeness, I step closer, looking down at her and her defiant little stance. “What makes you think I owe you any promises?”
This time, she doesn’t scream at me. “Because no matter why you married me, I’m still Mrs. Maksim Morozov. I still have a place in the hierarchy of this family. And because your life will be so much more pleasant if you stop treating me like a simpleton who’s only good for dressing up and fucking.” Putting up her hand to stop me, she continued, “Oh, I know all the stories. You can kill me like some of those other gangster scum, or beat the hell out of me to make me compliant. Why don’t you decide what you can tolerate in a wife? Because I’m not giving up unless you get rid of me.” Her chin quivers. “Promise me.”
So defiant, this woman, standing in my way and refusing to step back, even though I know she wants to cry, to hide in our dressing room and not come back out.
“I give you my word, I will tell her. I will ask her how she feels about it.”
“You’ll tell her now?” Ella persists.
Taking in a deep breath and letting it out, I nod. “I will tell her now.”
Opening the door, I escort her from my ruined study, sneezing twice. "Are you catching a cold?" Ella asks.
"No," I sneezed again, "it's nothing. Seasonal allergies, perhaps." She turns to head toward our bedroom but not before I catch her spiteful little smile. Rubbing my stinging eyes, I knock on Mariya’s door.
