Page 7 of The Bratva's Forced Kidnapped Bride
It was clear they were both scared out of their wits, but then the priest made sure to remind Anatoli of the fee they had agreed on.
“You dirty son of a—”
“Miss, please,” he said scornfully, as if he wasn’t doing something more unholy than a little swearing. “Let’s get started.”
“What the hell is going on?” I said, even though it was clear when the woman thrust the papers under my nose.
This was a wedding. Out of the myriad things Anatoli could do to me, he was forcing me to marry him. A priest, a witness, papers, everything. The dirty priest even wanted to go through with the vows. I jerked my arm uselessly in Anatoli’s iron grip and refused to say a word.
“She does,” Anatoli answered for me with a grin that made me want to tear him into tiny pieces.
“Then you’re now man and wife,” the priest said. “Come along, Harriet.” The two of them scampered toward the door, the priest turning back before they left. “Oh, you can kiss the bride.”
The door slammed behind them, and their car’s engine revved as Anatoli pulled me close to his hard body, holding on so tight I could hardly draw a breath. Wrapping his hand in my hair, he jerked my head back, lowering his face to mine as he loomed over me.
“Do it and you’re a dead man,” I spat, trying to get my knee up to cripple him. His hold on me was too strong, his face lowering inch by inch, gray eyes gleaming.
His mouth was on mine, hot and fierce, his hand roaming down my back. No amount of struggle could free me. I was married to Anatoli Ovinko. I would have welcomed the torture instead.
Chapter 6 - Anatoli
After everything was official, I had to put Masha back in handcuffs. She was lucky she didn’t ride to her new home in the trunk with the way she was acting. Not that I could blame her. She must have been angrier than she’d ever been in her life, and I was loving every second of it. Now that she was mine and under my complete control, I was positively walking on air.
For the first time in months, I felt like myself again, on top of everything. I probably shouldn’t have been quite so giddy since I should have been mourning my only brother, but to say we’d never been close was an understatement. If Konstantin were actually looking up at me, he was lucky I hadn’t danced at the news of his demise. I might be ruthless, and I had surely crossed some lines, but my brother was a menace. The world was better off without him.
Masha muttered something under her breath as she clinked her cuffs behind her back.
“Uncomfortable?” I asked pleasantly. “If I put them on in the front, tell me you wouldn’t have your arms wrapped around my neck by now.” And not in a good way, either. My Masha was a fighter.
“Just wait,” she hissed.
I could tell she was itching to ask how much longer by the way she pressed her lips together. Lips that were still smeared with red lipstick. I shook my head.
“The disguise was a good one, but too unlike you. Do you really think Denis is accustomed to beautiful women like you offering to buy him a coffee? Let alone some ditzy tart in a red dress at eight in the morning.”
Her cheeks grew as red as her lips as she struggled not to say anything more, but the criticism might as well have been a blow.
“Perfectionism is a bitch,” I said, unable to hold back a grin.
This was better than I could have imagined. The only thing that could have put me in a better mood would have been seeing her in a white dress and walking down an aisle with her hapless family watching. This wasn't just to punish her, but the whole Fokin clan.
Despite her antsiness, it didn’t take too long to get to the secluded mansion I’d acquired. It was the first time I had seen it in person, but I trusted that it was set up the way I wanted. The modern structure had been designed by an artist who had recently found that the economy wasn’t allowing many people to drop thousands on a painting anymore, and was forced to sell it fast. It was made of the same color stone as the lonely hills that surrounded it, making its sleek lines almost blend into the surroundings, except for the light of the moon winking off the many windows. The drive leading from the road was barely noticeable, but it was smooth, dotted with Mojave and fan palms. A few more harsh desert plants I didn’t recognize were scattered around the front, and in the dark, they were almost eerie.
I wasn’t used to this kind of scenery. Forests were more to my liking, or even the wild overgrown jungles of Mexico, but this had a certain charm that was already growing on me, and the location was perfect. The only way to find the place was to know it was there, and there were no signs leading up to it. It was surrounded by nothing but miles of empty desert, so if by some rare mischance, Masha got free, she’d be dead of thirst in a few days.
By the look on her face when I stopped the car, I didn’t need to tell her that. She was surprisingly quiet and docile as I led her into the house and flipped on a light. Everything was as the artist had left it.
“If these paintings are any indication of the last owner’s talent, I can see why he went bankrupt,” I said, shrugging out of my jacket and hanging it up.
She clinked her handcuffs to remind me they were still there. “I like them,” she said defiantly.
“Well then, they’ll stay where they are, princess,” I said, both sarcastically and magnanimously, just to see the look on her face.
It didn’t disappoint. Her meanest scowl couldn’t mar her delicate beauty. In fact, it enhanced it somehow, made her look less like a porcelain doll. I snickered at that thought. The kind of doll that was possessed by a demon, perhaps.
“This is a beautiful home you’ve taken me to,” she said, much too sweetly. She rattled her cuffs again. “I’m just surprised you didn’t carry me over the threshold.”
“If you’re disappointed, we can go out again,” I said, finding I didn’t mind the idea.
