Page 14 of Plus-Size Bride Forced By the Bratva
I looked back at him in silence, too numb to move or speak. Tears gathered in my eyes as he placed me in a precarious situation. His proposal was a trap, and whatever choice I made, someone would pay the price.
I was stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea with no one coming to save me. What kind of wickedness was that? Why put me under such pressure? Why make me choose between my future and my father’s life?
I tightened my jaw, fighting back my tears.
Lev Tarasov was the definition of evil, and my hatred for him just tripled. This was an impossible choice. Either way, I’d lose something precious to me.
“You can’t be serious,” Dad’s voice snapped me back to reality.
“Oh, I’ve never been more serious, Robert,” he said, his expression flat and unreadable.
“You’re trading a life for a debt,” Father added, shock and disbelief lacing his tone.
“It’s a proposal,” he answered. “Take it or leave it.”
The silence in the room stretched on forever until he added, “I don’t make offers twice. You have forty-eight hours to decide.” And with that, he walked out of the study, his men flanking him.
Dad dropped into his chair, his face buried in his palms. My knees were too weak to carry my weight, and I barely made it to the couch beside the bookshelf. I sank into it, the leather crunching beneath me.
For the next five minutes, the room was as silent as a graveyard. Neither of us said a word, but the weight of Lev’s “proposal” was heavy in our chests. The study felt emptier, colder, and darker, as if he had taken the remaining light with him.
My heart was pounding like a drum, blood burning under my skin. I was furious, worried, and confused. I told myself that I would never agree to this, but deep down, a cold knot of fear was already forming.
Dad hadn’t said a word, but his lingering gaze seemed like a plea, a cry for help, like I was his only lifeline.
I lowered my head, weeping in my heart, unable to meet his gaze.
Which of these could I live with: sacrificing my future so my father would live, or sacrificing my father for my future?
Chapter 6 -Lev
I lounged on a low leather couch with my legs crossed, arms draped over the headrest in the velvet-roped VIP section. My glass of vodka sat untouched on the table in front of me.
Colored lights slashed across the room in sharp flashes as the relentless base from the DJ’s mix throbbed through the walls, heavy and hypnotic.
Smoke curled lazily around me, and strippers moved in fluid motion along chrome poles, their laughter drowned by the pounding beat. Their smiles were seductive, each move of their alluring naked bodies pulling more gazes like a magnet to steel.
I sat there, detached, physically present but mentally absent. Unlike the other men at the VIP section, entertained by these girls’ seduction, I was lost in thought. My mind was far away, reeling with the different ways to make the Jensens grovel at my feet.
Images of the way Ravyn stood up for her father kept replaying in my head. Her bravery was quite remarkable. She’d first snapped at me, saying I couldn’t speak to her father like that—that spoiled little brat. As annoying as that stunt was, I wasn’t expecting anything less, especially because she was as stubborn as a mule.
But that wasn’t even what shocked me the most. It was how she stood in front of her father with arms spread wide, as if her stubborn little boldness could somehow save his life.
Well, in a twisted way, it actually did. At least because of her, he still had breath in his lungs. If I were being honest, I was never going to kill him—not right there anyway. The little mule was right; I wouldn’t get my money if he were dead. But the real reason I couldn’t have killed him was because his death wasn’t part of my plan.
The marriage proposal wasn’t a last-minute resort as I made it seem. No. It was the actual plan the whole time. It was a carefully orchestrated plot, and they both played straight into it; they followed the script to the letter.
Now I had them in a tight spot—like bugs in the palm of my hand, ready to be crushed whenever I felt like.
They had forty-eight hours to decide, and I was eager to find out what Ravyn’s choice would be. Would she pick her future or her father’s life?
Watching the flame in her eyes fizzle out when I’d given the ultimatum was satisfying as fuck. The look of fear and defeat on her face was priceless. The little girl was playing a dangerous game with a man twice her age—a master with years of experience.
The forty-eight-hour deadline was not out of mercy. That word didn’t exist in my world. It was to watch them break under so much pressure. One would think that Robert wouldn’t sacrifice his daughter’s future to save his life and his empire.
But I begged to differ. I’d been in this game for a really long time, and I’d seen men far stronger than Robert break in situations like this. He might love his daughter, but he also loved his life, his business, and his reputation. I was sure he wouldn’t mind her selling herself to get back everything he’d lost.
The offer was in his favor—his twenty-eight million dollar debt would be cleared from the record in an instant. There was no way Robert would let this opportunity pass him by; he didn’t love his daughter enough.
