Chapter 6 #4
A humorless, cruel smile ghosted across his lips.
For several long, suffocating seconds, he did nothing but study my face, his piercing gaze drilling into me as if searching for the smallest crack in my facade.
The hatred in his eyes was so intense it made my stomach twist with fear.
“I see.” He paused, his voice deceptively calm — the kind of calm that promised violence. “I am your husband now. It’s time to choose where your loyalty lies. Whatever allegiance you still have to your father... bury it today. Or I will bury it for you.”
He rose from the chair and closed the distance between us in slow, measured steps, stopping so close that all I could breathe was him.
His broad frame towered over me, invading every inch of my space and leaving nowhere to retreat.
I held my ground, refusing to step back even as my heart pounded violently against my ribs and terror clawed up my throat.
This man was a monster.
My monster.
His eyes never left mine.
They roamed over my face with unnerving intensity, lingering as though he were memorizing every feature he wanted to destroy.
“From this moment forward, your loyalty belongs to me — and it must be absolute,” he said, his voice low and venomous.
“You can no longer afford to have one foot in the Bratva. In fact, you’re no longer part of them at all.
By marrying me, you became a member of the Irish Mafia... whether you like it or not.”
His expression hardened.
“So let me make this perfectly clear. If I ever discover you’re passing information to the Bratva—or to your father—the consequences will be far worse than you can imagine.”
My stomach clenched.
Without realizing it, I took a small step backward.
Not because I wanted to surrender.
Because every instinct screamed that this man meant every word.
I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to steady the storm raging inside me.
“You won’t have my loyalty when yours belongs to another woman,” I said quietly. “Not when you can’t even offer me the basic respect owed to a wife.”
My gaze drifted toward the sofa where Yarina had been sitting only moments ago.
He closed the remaining distance between us.
Without warning, his hand settled on my waist.
Before I could react, he pulled me against him until I stumbled into his chest.
“If you’re worried I’ll fuck another woman while I’m stuck with you,” he said, his voice ice-cold and laced with contempt, “spare yourself the delusion. I keep my word. Even the vows I choked out at the altar while staring at the daughter of the man I want to butcher.”
There wasn’t an ounce of tenderness in his tone.
“And should that be enough to reassure me?” I asked, lifting my chin to meet his gaze. “Infidelity isn’t only physical. It can be emotional too.”
My eyes flickered toward the empty sofa again.
“Bringing another woman into the home we are now forced to share is a clear betrayal,” I replied, my tone measured but firm. “Spending the first night of our marriage with her is no different from spitting on the vows you claim to honor.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat before forcing the rest out.
“I understand there’s history between you and Yarina. I’m not asking you to erase it. But do not expect my loyalty or respect when you treat me like I’m nothing.”
I tried to pry his hand from my waist, but his grip only tightened.
His expression didn’t change.
He tightened his grip around my waist, yanking me flush against him until my breasts were crushed against his hard chest.
His hot breath fanned across my face as he stared down at me with those cold eyes, his lips hovering dangerously close to mine.
“In these two years, you are mine,” he growled, his voice low and venomous. “Your body, your soul, your loyalty, your respect, your tears, your pain, your every fucking breath — they all belong to me. Absolutely mine. This isn’t a discussion. It’s an order.”
His fingers dug painfully into my waist, the threat in his eyes chilling me to the bone.
“If you are ever caught betraying me — with your words, your thoughts, or your body — you will not live to see the end of these two years. I will make your death so slow and agonizing that you’ll beg me to end it long before I’m finished with you.”
He released me so abruptly that I staggered back several steps.
The room seemed to tilt beneath my feet.
Romeo watched me struggle with dark satisfaction, his lips curled in a faint, cruel smirk.
The hatred in his eyes hadn’t dimmed — if anything, my moment of weakness seemed to please him.
I straightened as best I could, refusing to let him see how deeply he had shaken me, even as terror continued to claw at my insides.
He had spoken of my death with the same indifference someone might use to comment on the weather.
There was no anger in his eyes. No conflict.
Just certainty.
“As you’ve probably gathered,” he continued, as casually as though he hadn’t just signed my death warrant with his own mouth, “this bungalow is your residence now. There are rules. You will follow every single one of them without question.”