Page 11 of The Bratva's Innocent Sold Bride
Making the most of the skimpy costume, I kept my movements slow, leaning way over as I scrubbed, sticking my backside in the air, making stupid little squeaky noises. I despised this man I had to marry, but I wouldn’t let him see me cry or shake with fear. My father might have been weak, but I wasn’t.
“Oops, I missed a spot,” I said in a breathy Marilyn Monroe voice, scrubbing so hard I jiggled everywhere.
A glance showed me he was staring at me like he was in pain, a muscle working in his tightly clenched jaw. I dropped the sponge and sat back on my heels, closing my eyes and stretching my back so that my chest thrust forward. When I opened them again, he was gone.
I almost clapped in my triumph and finished the rest of the kitchen with record speed now that I no longer had an audience. He didn’t turn up again while I ran down the rest of the infuriating chore list he made for me, and by the time I was done, I was famished and worn out. My muscles were going to ache tomorrow, but I was already considering it a workout, so it wouldn’t add to my bitterness. Mat wanted to see me unhappy, enraged, and trembling with fear, so I’d be the opposite, at least outwardly.
I made a sandwich, wondering if he expected me to cook for him. He’d be sorry, unless he liked boiled eggs and macaroni and cheese, because that was where my culinary expertise ended. It wasn’t on his list, so I put it out of my mind. The last thing I wanted to do was think about Mat Fokin, but it was hard not to when I was stuck in his house, waiting to be married to him, and forced to be the star of his new favorite show.
Had I really affected him with my burlesque act? I never tried to be sexy because there was never anyone I wanted to be sexy for. The guys in my classes were all as driven as I was, and made it known they were only available for one-night stands. No, thank you. I went to a very small, private high school, and all those boys felt like my brothers, so again, no.
The idea that I could shake the mighty tyrant was intriguing, but if he was truly attracted to me, that could be dangerous. He’d tipped his hand about being old-fashioned and traditional by sticking me in the guest room, but I didn’t want to push my luck.
Or, did I?
I wolfed down the sandwich, sure that low blood sugar and overexertion were causing those thoughts. I had triumphed over Mat; that was enough.
The triumph was short-lived, because as soon as I made my way back up to my room, he popped out of another down the hall and followed me. He opened the door for me in a strangely gentlemanly fashion and made a sweeping gesture at the bed.
It was covered in clothes, and these weren’t tacky costumes. The trendy pantsuit was completely appropriate and one I would have picked myself, in a pretty jade color. One of the ones I used to trick my hazel eyes into turning green, actually. A floral maxi dress lay beside it, as if he actually wanted me to have choices. There were new leather shoes, a silk blouse, and a velvet box I refused to open even though I was curious.
“You going to make me clean the pool in these?” I said.
He gave me a severe look. “My cousin Mila will be here in an hour. You’ll like her.”
“Is that an order?”
He sighed. “Change into one of those outfits and meet us in the living room."
By the time I showered and put on the dress, they were already sitting around a big stone coffee table.
Mila was a curvy blonde who didn't resemble her much older, darker cousin in any way. Surrounded by binders and notebooks, she put her tablet down to jump up and greet me with a hug. Looking down at her small baby bump, I gasped.
“You shouldn't have rushed up here when you're pregnant.”
"Nonsense,” she said, drawing me to sit beside her on the couch. "There's no one else in this world who can get you the kind of wedding you two lovebirds want in such a short time."
Remembering Mat's warning to act besotted, I did my best to smile as we dove into color choices, caterers, florists, and a thousand other things.
It was clear she knew her stuff, but the rigid timeline even worried her. With a glance at my midsection, she slyly asked if there was a reason for moving so fast.
No, your cousin's just a psycho.
“Certainly not," Mat said, offended by the notion.
More old-fashioned than I thought. He stood up, announcing he'd leave us to our women's work.
Ugh, way more old-fashioned. But with no real idea of what he was capable of, I had no choice but to go along and act rapturous about the planning.
It might have been fun if I wanted to get married, which I did, just not now and not like this. After a few hours, Mila pronounced us done for the moment, promising to start making calls despite the late hour and that she'd be back tomorrow.
It was a shame that Mat was right about something. I did like his exuberant cousin, and in another universe, I would have loved having her as a family member.
But there was no way in hell I was going through with this marriage.
Chapter 8 - Mat
Time seemed to move like it was passing through mud, but the day of the wedding finally arrived. I had been keeping CJ on her toes, as well as on her knees, with a busy chore schedule whenever Mila wasn’t around, and she had plenty of reprieves while getting the wedding together.
