Page 2 of Plus-Size Bride Forced By the Bratva
Again, they laughed. Except for one—the other girl, who seemed overwhelmed with jealousy.
“It’s just a simple dress,” she said, glancing at me. “Let’s not make a big deal out of it. Anyone can make that.” Her gaze shifted to the girl who had complimented my work earlier. “Right, Eren?”
Eren shook her head. “Hell no. Can you not see the design and the amount of details on that ‘simple dress’?” She air-quoted the phrase.
“Jessica’s just jealous. Pay no attention to her,” said the guy with the flirtatious gaze.
“Fuck you, Simon,” she snarled, casting him an evil eye.
He lifted his glass to his lips and murmured, “Yeah, you wish.”
It was funny how he effortlessly shut her up. And although I hated how he looked at me earlier, I liked how he put this Jessica girl in her place.
I was used to demeaning remarks from jealous girls like Jessica. And the crazy part was, girls like that had no real skills at all—just endless criticism. This wasn’t my first encounter with her kind, and unfortunately, it wasn’t going to be my last.
Amid the chatter of friends and Viktor’s relentless praise, a figure in the crowd caught my eye across the room. Clad in a charcoal suit that blended with the darkness of a corner, his gaze was so intense it momentarily took my breath away. His face was shrouded in shadows, his broad shoulders emphasizing his rugged build. The figure was tall, with an intimidating presence and a stare that held me in place.
My heart skipped a beat, spooked by the dark energy flowing through my body—yet drawn to it at the same time.
With one hand buried in his pocket, the figure cradled a champagne flute in the other, poised and majestic.
Viktor leaned in and whispered softly in my ear, his breath warm against my skin. “Look at that peacock. I bet his watch is faker than his smile.”
“Probably borrowed both from his mistress,” Jessica chipped in, laughing.
I took my gaze off the figure and traced their eyes to a man across the room, dripping in gold chains. He was a guest like the rest of us, and inmyopinion, his smile was even more authentic than most I’d seen so far.
Fun fact about Viktor: He was a douche sometimes. Well, most of the time, if I was being honest. And with friends like this, it was no wonder he was such an idiot.
I was dating an idiot—a spoiled little brat who always got what he wanted and bullied whoever he felt like. I knew deep down that I shouldn’t be with him, especially because we were cut from different cloth.
Jessica was his type: tall, gorgeous, arrogant, and stupid. She was the perfect definition of a bimbo. They were more alike than they cared to admit, and sometimes, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was something fishy going on between them. However, I’d never given it much thought.
Viktor and I were from two separate worlds; we saw the world through two different lenses. We weren’t compatible, and I wasn’t exactly sure why I was still with him. My friend Blair believed I was wasting my time with him; she’d told me several times to break it off and move on.
I couldn’t just do that; I needed an excuse to leave and never turned around. But Viktor was careful not to give me one. As arrogant and annoying as he was, he wasn’t disrespectful to me. He always listened to me, apologized when he was wrong, and claimed I was turning him into a better version of himself.
Maybe the reason I hadn’t left was because I thought I could change him—make him more responsible. But the more I tried to fix him, the more these idiot friends of his frustrated my efforts.
My eyes accidentally flicked back to the figure, and the second he stepped out of the shadows, my heart sank into my chest.
It was him. Lev Tarasov. Viktor’s older brother.
His name carried its own weight, whispered in the criminal underworld. He was in the Mafia, and that made him dangerous.
Blair thought the reason I hadn’t left Viktor was because of his relation to the Russian gang known as the Bratva, a faction of which was headed by Lev Tarasov. His brother.
Even though Lev Tarasov scared the shit out of me, he wasn’t the reason I was still Viktor.
Our eyes met in a split second, and his cold gaze sent shivers down my spine. His dark hair, slightly tousled, complemented his black suit. His eyes, pale and expressionless, looked silver under the lights.
His neatly trimmed beard caught my attention, drawing me in like a moth to a flame. He didn’t look away, and somehow, I didn’t either. Couldn’t, actually. It was like I was frozen in place.
When I finally got a grip on myself, I cleared my throat and excused myself from this toxic group.
“Where’re you going?” Viktor called after me.
“To get some air,” I answered without turning back.
