Page 1 of The Bratva's Hostage Bride

Chapter 1 - Hannah

"Then, from the casino floor, we’ll try to get into the VIP section. Maybe they’ll take pity on us because Denise is getting married,” Meryl says from her seat in front of the mirror where she’s applying makeup.

I feel awkward in this world of confident women preparing for my cousin Meryl’s bachelorette party. It’s not like anyone is being mean to me. It’s more like I’m in the background, as always.

“Imagine we all go home with random men and report back in the morning over breakfast,” Daisy, her friend, says.

Meryl looks uncomfortable. “Well, not me because I’m getting married.”

I feel uneasy. I don’t want to go home with some random stranger. Can you imagine? I mean, I do a podcast about serial killers, and that’s the first rule: don’t go home with random dudes.

“Hannah, do you want us to touch up your makeup?” my other cousin, Dayle, asks.

“No, I’m okay, thanks,” I say quietly. Let me pour us some drinks.” I don’t know why they doubt my makeup skills. I did graduate at the top of my class for makeup.

I get up, open a bottle of champagne, and fill our six glasses. I hand out the champagne before sipping on my own. I need the courage.

My older cousins are all giggling in a corner as they lean over a phone, watching a video, undoubtedly about some celebrity they hope to bump into.

Meryl draws my attention back to her, and I smile at her. “Are you ready for a night of fun?” I ask.

“Absolutely. This casino is relatively new compared to others, and it’s really popular. I hope we can get into the VIP section to dance.” She runs her hands through her auburn hair and adjusts her boob tube. “Right, how do I look?”

“Gorgeous,” I gush. “Mer, are we really sneaking into VIP sections and stuff like that?”

“Don’t worry,” she says quietly. “You and I will stick together, and we won’t do anything we regret.”

“More champagne,” my cousin, Devon, shouts. She opens another bottle and fills our glasses. “Hannah, are you excited about the casino we’re going to? What games should we play?”

I know they’re trying to make me feel included because I’m the odd cousin out. I haven’t been in Vegas long, having recently moved from Ohio, and my cousins were always performers and lived it up. I always have been more of a background feature.

“Slots,” I say, trying to play it safe. “I like the machines, games, and the silly stories they’re about.”

“Of course you would. You have such a vivid imagination,” Devon says with a smile. I don’t know if it’s a compliment, but that’s just my insecurity playing with my mind.

Meryl fixes her sash that says Bride to Be, and we all don our Bridal Team ones. Compared to the other girls I’m dressed more modestly. They are all in boob tunes, backless tops, backless dressed, and mini skirts. I have a cute dress on over some black tights.

Maybe I’m not as flamboyant as some of my cousins, but I think I look cute. At least if a guy flirts with me, I know it’s not because of how I’m dressed, right?

I don’t go out and party hard. Most of my cousins wonder why I moved to Vegas, and to be honest, I don’t know why. I needed a change, I guess. I was getting restless in Ohio, and when Meryl suggested I move here, I just thought it was a good opportunity. I wanted to spread my wings and get to know different people. But I didn’t want to become a party animal. That wasn’t my aim.

Honestly, I am reconsidering my move to Vegas and think that maybe I should move to L.A. I don’t know.

The only reason I’m sitting here with these thoughts is that my cousins are all talking about the random men they want to pick up tonight, and I’m left with Meryl, who feels as awkward as I do.

I top up Meryl’s glass of champagne and whisper, “We don’t really have to pick up guys, do we?”

“No, we don’t. I’m certainly not going to, and Devon can’t force us to. Just ignore her,” she sips on her champagne.

“Where are we going anyway?” I ask. “A casino and then a club?”

“All in one,” Meryl explains to me. “There is a casino on the strip that is recently making a good name for itself, and it’s got a private dance club in the back. Devon’s hoping to get us in because we’re a bridal party.”

“And if we can’t get in?” I ask, unsure of how this is going to work.

“Then we’ll go get into one of the other clubs. I hear Afantasy is cool.” She smiles at me and reaches for my hand. She gives it a gentle squeeze, “Don’t look so worried. I’ll take care of you.”

“Good, because I won’t,” Devon says as she sits beside me. “Are you ready?” she asks.

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