Page 2 of Bratva's Stolen Bride
Ivan. He reminds me of my ex-boyfriend, if he were more mature, hotter, and with the power and confidence of money and influence.
And that’s when I know for sure I have to get out of here. My life is in danger.
I begin to shake.
I spin and grasp for the door handle. A mechanical sound of a lock clicking into place sounds, and nothing happens a split second before I yank. I pull it again and again, hoping, even as the limo picks up speed, panic rising in my chest and spilling out of my throat in a high-pitched whine of terror.
Spinning around, I’m just in time to see the man pocketing a remote control. He raises one sardonic eyebrow, and a shiver goes down my spine.
Russian accents, this man being deferentially called Pakhan, me upsetting Ivan. It’s all too clear what’s happening, and if what Ivan said is true, I’m toast.
Everything is on the table for getting away.
Anything.
It has to be. His men have just shown me the power of the element of surprise when they bundled me into a van from the street, and now being unpredictable is the only hope I have.
I have the life expectancy of a butterfly caught in a tornado.
Because this man isn’t a random stranger. He’s my ex-boyfriend’s dad. And he’s a feared Bratva mafia boss with a reputation for unhinged brutality.
2
FELIKS
She’s beautiful.
I suppose it’s not a surprise that my son shares my taste in women, but I didn’t expect it, or his girlfriend to be so utterly gorgeous. She steals all my breath and my wits.
Her straight brown hair, pale-blue eyes, and heart-shaped face sound unremarkable when listed as attributes, but there’s something very special about this girl.
She’s dressed in a simple pair of cut-off jean shorts that show her long legs, and a plain white top. Her curves aren’t on display, but the shape of her perfect handful breasts and the flare outwards from her waist to her hip is unbelievable.
The expression of shock on her face, and the shadow of fear, only make my cock throb all the more, because she examines me from head to toe.
It’s an undeniable recognition as our eyes meet, for all that she’s twenty years younger than me, and Ivan’s girlfriend.
Something deep in my chest snarlsmine.
I can’t steal her from my son. That’s immoral even by my standards, isn’t it?
“You’re Payton Love.” An absurdly sweet name. It suits her.
She hesitates and presses her lips together. It only makes me more aware of how pretty she is. How vulnerable. She nods warily.
“I’m Feliks Rykov.”
She shrinks back, her bottom lip trembling. She recognises my name.
That’s good. I tell myself it’s better she knows I’m a monster.
“My son Ivan is your boyfriend.”
She lifts one shoulder, as though unwilling to confirm or deny.
“You’re not seeing him anymore, and I need you out of the way.” That emerges a little harsher than I intended, but the thought of Payton with Ivan now makes me sick in a personal sense, rather than merely because the combination of a sadistic man and an innocent woman is disastrous.
“Mr Rykov,” she breathes, and my cock twitches. “Please, let me go.”
