Page 3 of Owned Bratva Bride
“Be safe,” she warned again as she released me.
“I promise,” I assured, chuckling as I opened the door. “And you have to promise to have that talk with James before you leave for Spain.”
“Whatever. Bye!”
“Bye!” I answered, shutting the passenger door.
The soft evening breeze blew the asymmetric hem of my red silk dress as I turned sideways toward the front of what turned out to be a warehouse.
The atmosphere shift was palpable as I set foot in the interior of the building. It felt like another world—a dark, decadent, yet intriguing world. Despite being awash with neon and velvet, the whispers of power could be heard in the warehouse.
Just as I got to the velvet rope, I heard Lucien’s smooth voice.
“There you are, darling,” he uttered, his bright blue eyes raking over me.
Dressed in a grey suit and black trousers, he looked elegant. His black hair shone in the light as he crossed the small distance between us.
“You look lovely,” he stated, smiling as he moved to kiss my cheek; it was always the cheeks. Another charming thing I liked about him. It probably came with the older man package.
“Thanks. You look good, too.”
“I try.”
From his wrist, heavy with a Cartier tank, to his expensive-looking suit, he did more than just ‘try.’ His charming face and tall, smart 6’0” frame made it hard to believe he was a decade older than me.
“Come with me.”
He emphasized his instruction with his Cartier-laden hand on my lower back.
Like predatory birds, models in metallic silk swept by exposed brick pillars. There were more suit-clad men around than women. The small crowd of attendees didn’t look laid-back, as one might expect at a typical art show. Everyone seemed to be immersed in serious business.
“Art curator, hm? This isn’t just an art show, is it?” I asked as we stopped moving.
Lucien’s smile was faint and sharp as he turned to face me.
“Let’s call it unofficial business,” was his reply. He signaled to one of the servers and took two glasses of champagne from the tray, handing me one.
“Thanks.”
“The pleasure is all mine, darling. I’m the most fortunate man here to have a muse like yourself in my company.”
I couldn’t stop my smile as I took another sip of my champagne.
He turned his attention to two bulky men dressed in black suits. They had to be bodyguards. As quickly as he turned to talk to them, his attention was back on me.
“Gotta keep everything under control,” he explained.
“Of course,” I agreed. “So, what’s this unofficial business? I mean, you said you were in logistics, and now this is an art show you’re curating.”
I half-expected him to evade the question. After all, I wasn’t so naive to think an enigmatic man like him talked freely about his business to every lady he went out with.
That explained my surprise when he moved closer and asked, “Remember what I told you about running a blackmail ring through socialites last week?”
“Yes. You said to disregard it. You were drunk.”
“I believe you know whatever you learn here isn’t to get out under any circumstances,” he warned, his tone grave.
“Of course.”
