Page 3 of Forced Innocent Bride By the Bratva

Like I said, Liam had a way with words, words that somehow always made me feel loved, lucky, and wanted. In his eyes, I could see his desire to be with me—beyond that, I could almost see my future.

Liam was the perfect gentleman, fierce and ruthless when need be. Around him, I felt safe, protected, and adored. What more could I ask for?

***

Later that evening, I decided to stop by a coffee shop tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. I was craving something warm, something to help with the anxiety and rush that came with being lovestruck.

All day, I hadn’t stopped smiling, considering the amount of gladness in my heart. I knew I looked silly, moving around with a grin perched on my face, but I couldn’t exactly help it. Maybe it was because I was in love.

I pushed the door open, the soft chime of the bells above announcing my arrival. Café Velluto was a haven from the evening chill, with large glass windows that reflected the warm glow of the street lamps outside.

It was cozy inside, the sweet scent of freshly brewed espresso, cocoa, and baked pasties wafting through the air, teasing my senses. The space was abuzz with the soft hum of conversations and the occasional clinking of ceramic cups. Wooden tables and chairs were meticulously arranged to offer both privacy and a sense of community.

The hanging chandeliers cast a warm glow over the space, the soft lights illuminating the patrons’ features while adding to the ambiance. I stepped toward the counter, ready to place my order—however, I wasn’t paying attention until I collided with someone. A slight gasp left my lips, and my body stiffened reflexively as I raised my head to apologize.

“Hey, watch it!” a sweet feminine voice came at me, the tone laced with a hint of mild aggression.

I thought the voice sounded really familiar, and when my eyes met the speaker’s, my words caught my throat. “Holy cow!” My brows mirrored the surprise etched in my gaze. “Alessia?”

The young woman in front of me pushed her head backward with a whisper, her brown eyes squinting almost imperceptibly. “No way,” she said, her lips curving into a knowing smile as her eyes widened. “Scarlett O’Sullivan?” She chuckled, closing the gap between us. “This must be my lucky day.”

I laughed, slipping into her embrace, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Jesus Christ! How long has it been?” she asked, letting go and pushing strands of her honey-blonde hair to the back of her ear, her gorgeous smile retained.

“Too long,” I replied amidst chuckles.

“Oh, my God, this is such a pleasant surprise, especially because you’re the last person I would ever have thought I’d bump into today.” Alessia laughed, a melodic trill that was brief but infectious.

My response was a silvery peal that faded into a warm smile. “Same here. I guess it’s a small world.”

“Indeed,” she said, her soft chuckle trailing off.

“What are you doing in this part of town?” I asked, tilting my head slightly.

“Oh, um…I’m studying, actually,” she replied, her head slightly leaning closer. “Finals are coming up, and boy, does this place make a mean cappuccino!” A sheepish grin lined her lips, her words infused with a relaxed, casual air.

“Miss Romano, your cappuccino is ready!” the blonde lady behind the counter called out, her voice cheerful and efficient.

“See?” She wagged her eyebrows at me and then faced the barista. “Alright, Layla. Thank you.”

Alessia Romano, an old friend from school, was still the same sharp, quick-witted girl I remembered. She was a law student with beautiful, honey-blonde hair that cascaded down her back in loose, effortless waves. Her deep brown eyes held a glint of stubbornness, a quiet strength that refused to be broken.

Twenty-one-year-old Alessia Romano was no regular girl. She was the daughter of Dante Romano, the leader of the Italian crime syndicate, a ruthless man infamous for his cruelty and lack of humanity. I knew this firsthand, considering that both our families had been at loggerheads with each other for a while now.

The O’Sullivans and the Romanos didn’t always see eye to eye. Although neither Alessia nor I knew the exact cause of our families’ conflicts, we didn’t care to find out. The dispute between our fathers was no concern to us; we still shared a chill bond regardless. Alessia and I weren’t super close—not best friends or anything. But our friendship was solid.

Our families had tried to cause a rift between us, to fill our hearts with hate and disdain toward one another. However, their attempts to tear us apart failed woefully. Neither of us was ready to give in to a fight we knew nothing about. We didn’t see the need to inherit our families’ enemies. Besides, she’d never given me a reason to hate her, nor had I given her a reason to do the same.

Unfortunately for both families, these girls wouldn’t give in to their manipulations. We stood our ground, refusing to be controlled or to play their game of hate and malice. With time, they all just stopped trying to force us into sharing their opinions. It was a complete waste of time—they realized it, and soon, they gave up.

“What about you? What’re you having these days?” Alessia’s voice sliced through my thoughts, snapping me back to the present.

“Same old, same old.” I chuckled.

“Hazelnut latte, extra foam?” she asked, brows raised in question.

“You got it,” I said.

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