Page 5 of The Bratva's Hostage Bride

This sudden, deep desire to know everything about this auburn-haired beauty is overwhelming. It’s as though I’ve been enticed with an intoxicating scent that, like in cartoons, has me floating in the air leading up to her.

I see some men flirting with the girls, and auburn-hair looks uncomfortable. I feel immediately protective of her. I want to pull her close and tell her that everything is going to be okay.

A touch on my arm draws me back to the present, and I look down at one of the women I brought with me holding a drink. “I got you a whiskey. The waitress says it’s your favorite.”

“It is,” I mumble as I clumsily take the glass and sip from it. My eyes travel back to the gaggle of girls giggling near the slot machines, and I wonder how I can carefully extract her from this group without making it so obvious that I frighten her. She’s clearly not an extrovert; I’m sure of that.

I want to explore her body, kiss every inch of it. Make her feel things that she’s never felt before in her life. I want her to know I’ll be the best lover she’ll ever have.

Okay, Luka, that’s going a bit far.

Is it, though?

I smile to myself. It’s probably just an itch I need to scratch. I need to speak to her, flirt with her, seduce her. I hand the glass back to the girl. “Beat it.”

“Luka,” she whines, and I flash a warning glance at her. She nods and retreats to her friend. I barely notice as they leave the casino.

I walk over to the group and clear my throat, “Excuse me, I believe this is a bachelorette party.”

A tall, dark-haired one seems to recognize me and nods. “Yes, sir, we’re celebrating Meryl’s last few days as an unmarried woman.”

“Please, I must insist you join me at my club in the back. VIPs only. Drinks on the house, of course.”

The woman hesitates and looks around. “All of us?”

“Yes, of course. Your boyfriends can come as well.”

The men look instantly uncomfortable.

“We’re not.”

“We just met.”

I smile. I know how to get rid of playboys quickly. I have been one my entire life. There was a time when my mother thought I’d marry Asher. To be honest, I think everyone thought that, but Asher was just a really fun, good friend. This young beauty, though, is different. I feel differently about her, different from how I felt about Asher the first time I met her.

“Please come through. Free drinks and a dance floor are just what your party needs.” My eyes meet hers, and I’m absorbed by them. If eyes truly are the window to the soul, then hers is the purest I’ve ever seen, and I want to look into them as we make passionate love.

It's a silly little itch.

That’s all this is, right?

The brown-haired girl holds out her hand. “Devon. These are all my cousins. Most of us are dancers except for Hannah.”

She gestures to my target. “Hannah, what is it that you do?”

“Oh, I…” she blushes, and Devon nudges her. “I am a makeup artist and run a serial killer podcast.”

I can see her cousins pull faces. Clearly, they don’t approve of her line of work. I don’t care, it sounds fucking interesting.

“Please, I hope you’ll join us. I’ll be in the VIP section if anything is not up to your liking.” I give a slight bow and walk to the back of the casino, where two guards stand by double doors.

“See that group of girls,” I gesture to them. The guards nod.

“Let them in if they come. I’ve invited them.” I walk through the double doors, across a short hall to another set of double doors. Once they open for me, music comes pouring out like a tidal wave, washing over me.

It’s alternative night. Rock is the order for the night. It's something people can dance to and get hyped up about. I move to the side where my table is kept clear and wave to the waitress to get me a drink.

I sit there, hoping. I hope I made the right move by being mysterious. I want to draw Hannah in. I want her to come to me and get to know me while I explore every single inch of her.

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