Page 34 of Forced Bratva Wife

A smile cracked my lips, and I laughed once. Lev was a criminal, a killer; there was no way around that, but he’d also treated me with more respect and been more honest than my supposed family ever had.

“How is this my life?” I mused.

I grabbed the bottle of shampoo, doling some out and then scrubbing it gently through my curls. They’d be a little unhappy with me that I wasn’t using the normal stuff, and I scoffed at myself.

Because shampoo should be your biggest concern right now.

I didn't think my choice of soap was important, so I quickly lathered it through my hair and used some conditioner that I found. It was a bit surprising to find conditioner in a guy's bathroom, but I appreciated it nonetheless. After rinsing everything off, I was left with clean hair.

“Time to get out.”

Stepping out of the steamy cube, I took a towel off the rack affixed to the shower door and wrapped it around myself. There was a smaller hand towel on the counter, so I used that as best as I could on my hair.

Drying off and getting changed into the more comfortable options from the shopping bag—a set of soft cotton shorts and a matching grey hoodie top—felt almost normal. But as I sat back down on the bed, scooting myself to the head of the bed and pulling the covers over my legs, my rational brain reminded me of what was coming up on the agenda tomorrow.

“Wedding.”

Yes, I was supposed to be getting married the next day. To Lev. The man who kidnapped me. Ugh.

“I suppose there could be worse people to marry.”

My eyes burned, glossing over. I should have a say in who I was spending the rest of my life with, and still…

Lev had stood up for me with my father, implying very strongly that if he hurt me again, Lev would kill him. That shouldn’t be flattering, but it was. Still, my nerves prickled, and it wasn’t just because I was about to be Lev’s wife, though that was obviously part of it.

My father had hired people to watch over the office. That’s how Igor and the others had gotten injured.

If I knew anything about dear old dad, which was becoming less and less certain, I knew he was paranoid. Holding onto every last penny that he’d ever made was always the most important thing to him. It seemed unlikely that he’d be all right with just dropping this issue with Lev.

Just because he’d been found out, that wouldn’t stop my father from trying to keep what he’d apparently stolen from the mob.

“He’s going to try something.” I dropped my stare to the blanket over my legs, gripping the fabric in my fists. “He’s got to be watching, and he’s going to fucking try something. I just know it.”

My stomach churned. I didn’t want tomorrow to come. I wanted more time to think, to prepare. I typically spent weeks studying, not one to cram at the last minute. But the lack of a complete view of the situation made my chest constrict with anxiety, causing an uncomfortable burning sensation in my throat.

What the hell, world? What the absolute hell?

I laid back against the pillow, curling onto my side and looking forward into the empty room. I was so on edge. Sleep wouldn’t be coming any time soon. The only thing that felt certain was my desire to be at Lev’s side if my father tried anything—like he was most certainly going to do.

And I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Chapter 17 - Lev

My office hung in a persistent semi-quiet. My team answered my questions, gave me details about arriving at the courthouse later this morning, and provided a status update on Igor. But no one was saying much else, and I had a feeling I knew why.

“All right, everyone, get out of here. Take a break. We’ll be heading to the courthouse in five hours. Report back then.”

The tired men sighed collectively, all taking the opportunity to rest and catch whatever sleep they could get. I’d demanded quite a bit from them since yesterday’s altercation with Pavel’s men, and even I knew they required downtime.

“Pietor.”

A simple call of his name brought my cousin’s distracted stare back up to me, and he groaned. As he let the other pass by, he took the seat in front of my desk. He always liked to stand at the back for meetings like this, watching the room like a vulture looking for scraps.

When he sat, he met my stare with a bit of a glare, bored as it was.

“What?”

No question lay in the word. It was just Pietor moving the conversation forward.

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