Chapter 4 - Beatrice
Mrs. Pavlov, my foot. Just being called that made me want to vomit.
I was furious at having to sign those damn papers.
Viktor had flirted with me all night because he wanted to use me as some cheap bargaining chip in his twisted revenge plot, and I, like a giddy little fool, had fallen for a pair of blue eyes, only to later learn that he wasn’t even called Viktor.
Fucking Arko Pavlov. He totally played me. Maybe I should’ve gotten ‘stupid’ tattooed on my forehead like my brother Federico suggested back when I’d entered college and forgot to show up for a midterm as a freshman.
Stupid, stupid me. I should have remembered that I was a Lebedev and that there was a reason my family didn’t easily trust outsiders. If I’d stayed in my lane, I wouldn’t have found myself in this impossible situation.
God, what would my brothers say when they find out that I married the Pavlov Pakhan?
They’ll be furious I got myself in this position, yes, but then again, I didn’t really have a choice.
It was either this or letting him carry out the threats he made against my family, and I couldn’t let that happen.
So, of course had to marry him. I hoped, against all rational sense, that my brothers would forgive me when they found out.
“Ready to go?” Viktor asked.
“What, this little kidnapping shack isn’t honeymoon material?” I spat out.
He smiled, and I felt the urge to slap it right off his face.
“Let’s go,” he repeated, and when I refused to move, he took hold of my arm.
I wanted to fight, but was tired and exhausted, and struggling against the inevitable felt like a waste of precious energy.
Besides, I’d already signed the papers and knew he wasn’t letting me out of his sight anytime soon. So I let him lead me back to the car like a little puppet. Let him think he had me, and when the time was right, I planned to make my move.
“Heading home, sir?” the driver asked.
“Yes.”
The car pulled away, and I pushed myself against the door as tightly as I could, all to keep as far from him as I could. We drove in silence for a while, and every second felt like a ticking time bomb.
I felt a sick churning in my stomach, thinking about what the driver meant when he said ‘home’.
In my head, I was imagining some sort of grotesque Pavlov compound where I’d be kept under lock and key.
I’d probably be surrounded by his family, and chances were, they’d hate me just for making the mistake of being a Lebedev.
I was making myself a nervous wreck, imagining the hell his family would give me.
The scenarios in my head played out in such horror that I had to force myself to think positively before I lost my mind.
Maybe, I flipped the scenario in my head, his siblings would be more level-headed and even come to my aid.
And if they didn’t see the problem in what their brother did, I could appeal to their common sense.
I could show them how badly this would end if Arko didn’t deliver me back to my family.
Did the Pavlovs really need a war with the Lebedevs?
I started formulating arguments, making them airtight so they work in my favor when I try to get Arko’s family to knock some sense into him.
“You’re awfully quiet now,” Arko said. “What happened to the fiery princess who was oh-so-ready to make a run for it?”
“What happened to Viktor?” I hissed back, turning to throw him a glare before staring out the window again.
“Come on, Beatrice. You can’t honestly say you would have talked to me if I’d introduced myself as Arko Pavlov at the club.”
Okay, fair point. But it wasn’t my job to side with this man.
In that moment, I hated the very nerve of him. Just sitting next to him in this car made me feel like I was betraying my family. I couldn’t just forget the history between the Pavlovs and the Lebedevs and decide I wanted to play civil with Arko after all he did to my family.
Just last year, my brother Dante had gone into a frenzy, trying to protect his wife, Alisa Montes, all because the man next to me had bought her in some kind of deal from her father.
The way I saw it, Arko Pavlov was a monster. No sane human being bought a woman as a wife, especially one he’d never even met. When buying Alisa didn’t work out, he fucking stole me.
Wait. Scratch that. Arko Pavlov wasn’t just a monster; he was fucking deranged to think he could get away with this.
“Just wait until my brothers hear of this,” I said angrily.
“Your brothers don’t scare me,” he scoffed.
“Do you know my brothers?” I fumed.
“Do you know me?”
This man infuriated me beyond belief. His ego was bigger than the whole galaxy, as far as I saw it. There was no point talking to him, let alone arguing with him. After that, I refused to speak to him, and honestly, he didn’t try much either. Thank god for small mercies.
We drove farther from the city and entered tree-lined streets with homes that looked like estates. I kept staring out the window as we passed through large gates manned by armed guards and turned onto a private drive flanked by fountains, stone pillars, and manicured bushes.
“We’re almost there,” Arko said.
I didn’t bother replying. I didn’t really care if we were almost there. What I cared about was noting the routes and exits, so I could run the first chance I got.
Arko stopped right in front of his mansion. His house, I noted, wasn’t as large as my brothers’ homes, but impressive nevertheless. I craned my neck to take in the neoclassical architecture, with its massive columns framing the entrance.
Well, I had to admit, at least the man had taste.
“Welcome home, Mrs. Pavlov,” Arko said with a tinge of playfulness.
The driver turned off the engine.
“Don’t call me that,” I snapped, unbuckling my seatbelt.
Arko shrugged, and I think I noticed a small curve to his lips as he stepped out.
I realized he was about to walk over to my side, and there was no chance in hell I was going to allow him to play chivalrous after the fact that he kidnapped me.
I shoved the door open myself and stepped out before he could even reach it, slamming it shut behind me.
He simply cocked an eyebrow, as though he utterly enjoyed my little rebellion, and I wished I had kept my cool.
Oh, well, it was too late for that. I had no time to waste on playing games, not if I wanted to get out of here.
“Where’s your family?” I asked, ready to plead my case for a safe return home.
“What?” He frowned.
“You do have family, don’t you?” I asked in a tone I might have used on a simpleton, just to piss him off. “Or are they under lock and key, too?”
“Who the hell keeps their siblings under lock and key?” He looked indignant.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe insecure, power-hungry mongrel-type people like you who fear one of your brothers might take over your throne,” I argued right back, crossing my arms in front of me.
“I don’t know how they do things over at your house.” He gave me a thin, antagonizing little smile. “But we don’t have thrones here.”
I rolled my eyes. “Just tell me where they are, will you? I want to meet your brothers and sisters.”
I desperately needed an answer. His family would be my best chance at appealing to reason. Surely not all Pavlovs were as stubborn and vindictive as their leader.
A smile crossed his face, the kind that said he was enjoying this, and I hated being the source of his entertainment.
“They don’t live here,” he said.
“What? Then where do they live?” I shrieked.
“Umm…they have their own homes.” He looked at me then like I was the simpleton.
I shook my head, trying to process what he was saying. “Wait. So… who lives here?”
“Just me,” he shrugged, and his eyes locked with mine. “And now you.”
My heart sank at the helplessness I felt. In that moment, all my plans faded right before my eyes. If they didn’t live here, then I was stuck without any hope…all alone, with him.
“You mean we’ll be living here alone? Just the two of us?” I double-checked in panic.
“Well, there’s staff.”
“No.” I shook my head. “No way. I’m not living alone with you.”
“Would you prefer I move my entire family in?” he asked with mock concern. “My brother Andrey snores. And Alena’s a sleepwalker. We could make it a full house if that’s what you want.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I snapped. “I meant I’m not staying here at all.”
“You are,” he hissed. “You signed the papers. You’re my wife. This is your home now.”
“This isn’t a marriage! This is a hostage situation!”
“Call it what you want,” he shrugged, taking my elbow and starting to guide me to the door. “But you’d better get used to it.”
“Let go of me.” I pulled back my arm.
“Then will you walk?”
I frowned, wanting to do anything but that. However, I was so fucking tired, and standing outside arguing with him was starting to get on my nerves. Without saying a word, I made way up the stairs and heard him follow.
Inside, the house was impeccable, though I tried not to seem impressed—even though I did a double-take at the sight of the massive double banister and the chandelier that swept six feet across the roof.
“What do you think?” Arko asked, noticing the keen eye I was trying to keep from him.
I schooled my face into indifference. “It looks like I can survive here.”
He let out a bark of laughter. “I forgot. You’re a goddamn princess. This must seem quaint compared to the Lebedev palaces.”
“I’ve seen better,” I lied. The truth was that his home was gorgeous. But I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.
“Let me show you around,” he said, ignoring my snide dig. “You should know where things are if you’re going to live here.”
“I don’t need a tour. Just show me to my room so I can lock myself in and pretend you don’t exist,” I hissed.
“All in good time.” He paused and faced me. “First, we need to discuss some ground rules.”
Wait…what the hell does that mean? I felt my defences rise at the injustice of it all.