Page 15 of Bratva Prince
I declined his offer, but he didn’t relent. He leaned in even closer, once again invading me with his scent of sweat and alcohol. “You know, you’d look a lot prettier if you smiled.”
And once again, he spit on me when he spoke. Cringing, I wiped his spit from my face and backed up, not comfortable with this close encounter. He was really starting to piss me off. “Oh,no. My mission in life has been foiled. Thank you for bringing that to my attention.”
Of course he didn’t understand. He was too drunk and possibly too stupid to interpret sarcasm. No doubt, he was only in college on an athletic scholarship. Instead, he shook his head and stepped closer, again. “Well, I could put a smile on your face. All you need to do is ask.”
Oh, boy. Just what I’d always dreamt of—a disgusting, sweaty guy who wants me to beg for him to hit on me, hoping that maybe, justmaybe, he wants to take me home with him… but only if I were lucky.
Dream on, asshole.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to put you through the trouble,” I answered with sarcasm dripping from my tongue.
Apparently, he was too dumb to pick up on it because his response was, “It’s no trouble at all, sweetheart.”
I rolled my eyes, and didn’t even bother to hide it before I turned away and just ignored him.
Men like that—they didn’t take no for an answer. You could try to be polite, but it got you nowhere. If you’re rude to them, it hurts their fragile male ego. Hopefully, ignoring him wouldn’t wind up with me being thrown into a ditch because the guy couldn’t handle the thought that there was a woman out there who wasn’t begging to sleep with him.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, his tone growing in irritation. “Don’t you know it’s disrespectful to ignore someone who’s talking to you?”
“You assume Ihaverespect for you. Maybe I don’t appreciate vulgar comments from some drunk, boorish oaf hitting on me at the bar,” I said, turning away from him to finish my drink. “Besides, you’re engaged.”
Not taking the hint—and by hint I meant outright refusal—he came up behind me, pulling my hair from my shoulder and tucking it behind my ear. His hot breath reeked of alcohol, and I froze. The close contact, the menacing low chuckle that he let out… There was a shift in the atmosphere that terrified me to my core, resembling the same fear I’d experienced many times with my father. It was like my body could sense something dark would happen. Something that usually involved me being hurt.
“Women say they don’t want it,” he mumbled into my ear, slurring the words. “But your pussy says otherwise.” His hand slithered down between my legs, cupping me, as he leaned in to kiss me.
I shoved him away and slapped him so hard, I was surprised it didn’t gather the attention from others nearby.
“Fucking bitch!” he shouted, wincing as he grabbed the side of his face. His friends “ooh-ed” him in the background, and he scowled. “You’re gonna regret that.”
He grabbed my wrist with one hand, clutching it so tight, I could feel it bruising. “Tease,” he said, raising a fist with his other hand as he swung at me, and all I could do was squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the crushing blow.
8
Ivan
Ididn’t usually get involved in other people’s business. I’d been in situations where overly drunk men or women act stupid, and after dealing with Dominik earlier, I had no interest in dealing with it tonight. I couldn’t afford to draw attention to myself.
But this asshole was wearing on my nerves. The way he grabbed Willow, it made me seethe inside. But when he raised his fist against her, that was where I’d lost it.
I’m not sure why I did it, but my feet brought me closer to Willow, and even though I approached slowly and with hesitation, I approached them, nonetheless.
“Are you okay?” I asked her.
She shook her head, her eyes filled with both a ferocity and a fear—like she wanted to tear the man’s hand off, but was too scared to act. I knew that fear all too well, but after you kill a couple guys, you get used to it. In fact, you use it to fuel your own fire.
“Leave,” I said to the man, my voice stern.
“Excuse me? Who the fuck do you think you are, pretty boy? You need to get lost and mind your own business.”
His hand was still clutched around Willow’s wrist, and I squinted my eyes as a rage burned red through me. “I said leave. Now.”
He let go of her wrist and pushed me, a haughty smile covering his face as he eyed his friends for validation of his manhood.
Big mistake.
Before he could see me strike, I elbowed his face and kicked his legs out from under him, sending him straight to the ground.
I leaned down and punched him, my fist crashing into his face three or four times before I stood up, spitting on his broken nose. “I said get the fuck out of here,” I growled, kicking him in the side for good measure.
