Page 24 of Used By the Merciless Bratva
I raised a curious brow.
“Your bathroom essentials,” he pointed out.
“Citrus for my hair. Anything soft works for my skin.”
“I love your hair, by the way. It looks raw in a sexy way,” he complimented, typing away on his phone.
Casual flirting has to be this guy’s hobby.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
He put the phone back into his pocket, and I sat on the bed to his right.
“They’ll be delivered in minutes,” he informed. “Are you really thinking of escaping?” he asked, turning to face me.
“More like hoping,” I answered, sighing. “I’m not naïve. Neither was I a kid when my dad worked for the Bratva. I know I can’t just break out of the estate. Even if I did, your almighty boss surely has the resources to bring me back in the blink of an eye.”
He nodded in agreement.
“I can only hope he’s sensible enough to consider another way out of this impossible situation. But he just made me signthe marriage license, and now I’m about to pick a damn wedding dress. My hope is becoming nonexistent.”
“Sounds cliché, but you know we sometimes find happiness in unexpected places, right?”
“So I’ll find happiness with the man who murdered my father and forced me into marriage?”
“It sounds crazy when you put it like that. But I’ve heard of even more reluctant brides who became their happiest in marriage. Some are married to Mafia bosses, too. Even the boss’s brothers.”
A knock on the door ended our conversation as he stood.
About an hour later, I was in the bathroom, taking off the fourth dress I’d tried on—my chosen wedding dress. It was a black dress with mesh sleeves and a shimmery, lacy bodice that gathered into an elegant ball gown. The boat neckline removed its implied conservativeness with how low it was; if I had been a bit bustier, I would have been exposing more than just the top of my breasts.
I came out of the bathroom in my jeans and one of the T-shirts that Sava sent God-knows-who to get.
“Are you sure?” he pressed. “You have a banging body. Any of these dresses will be dope.”
“You already said that about a hundred times, Sava.Thisis my wedding dress,” I insisted, tossing said dress toward him.
“I was right. You. Are. Different,” he proclaimed, rising from the edge of the bed.
Chapter 6 – Danil
“Nikolai,” I uttered, offering a handshake as he approached my desk.
“Danil Yezhov,” he announced, a grin on his face as he took my hand in a firm handshake.
“What brings you by today? My surprise is justified, you’ll agree,” I said as I sat, and he did the same across the desk.
It wasn’t public knowledge that, three years ago, Nikolai Romanov had pulled out of the German drug syndicate he had been a part of for decades. The story Klaus and the rest of the group told was that Nikolai decided to become a dormant partner.
“Well, yes,” he answered, looking around my office. “Everything looks the same here.”
I would’ve mentioned that I couldn’t say the same about his hair, which had now gone salt and pepper, but I held back. It wasn’t uncommon; he was in his early fifties. “Hm.”
“I have a business proposition for you. I couldn’t share it over the phone; that’s why I came all the way here.”
“I won’t be wrong to assume you’re about to tell me, would I?”
He chuckled before answering, “It’s a loan-sharking business.”
