Page 2 of Forced to Marry the Bratva

“Don’t you dare, Lev,” I hiss. “We’ve kept this from our family for far too long. Best we leave it as is.”

“From the family, yes. Are you planning on hiding it from your future wife, too? Speaking of,” Lev continues. “We’re getting worried, Brother. Boris is almost hitting the roof and thinking you’ve bailed on your wedding.”

“I haven’t bailed,” I say, simply.

“You know, if you do decide to bail, I think it would be quite alright,” he says, voice one with mischief.

“Enlighten me,” I respond, trying to suppress my urge to lecture him against cracking such jokes.

“I caught sight of your bride moments ago,” Lev teases. “She’s hot. Man, if you want to back out, I’d replace you in a second.”

“Lev,” I warn, my voice rumbling.

“She’s nothing like her father. She’s gorgeous, Brother. Blonde hair, green eyes, killer legs. I mean, those legs. All this while, I thought you’d be marrying Russo’s progeny. Never did I think the apple could fall this far from the tree.”

“Lev, enough,” I bark into the phone, now proceeding to pull out fresh clothes to shower and change into. “I’m on my way.”

“You sure?” he sounds almost disappointed. “All Russo wants is a Zolotov. Swap with me, come on. If I’d seen her before, I would have signed up for this before you did. She’s a rare, rare beauty.”

The image he’s painting of my future wife is intriguing, to say the least. I take a deep breath and prepare myself for what’s to come.

“I don’t care how attractive she is or isn’t,” I tell him, my voice low and serious. “This is business—our family’s business. And you know as well as I do that I won’t back out. These are not matters to be joked around about.”

“Easy there, tiger,” Lev chuckles in response, clearly amused by my sudden intensity. “I was just trying to lighten the mood. But hey, who knows? Maybe you’ll actually like her.”

“Like her or not, it doesn’t change anything.” I wipe the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand, leaving a faint streak of blood behind. “We’re doing this for the family business, Lev. Don’t forget that.”

“Relax, Brother,” Lev replies, his tone softer now. “I know why we’re doing this, and I’m with you all the way. Just... try to have some fun tonight, okay? It’s not every day you get married, after all.”

“Fun,” I scoff, shaking my head. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good. Clean and ice yourself up before you come. Every time you fight, you end up looking like you just fought ten rounds with a grizzly bear. Wouldn’t want to scare her off now, would we?” Lev laughs before hanging up the phone.

I glance at my reflection in a nearby mirror, noting the bruises and cuts scattered across my face. He’s not wrong—I certainly don’t look like a groom ready to walk down the aisle.

But underneath my battered exterior lies a fierce determination to see this through—for the sake of our empire.

As I make my way to the nearest restroom to shower, I can’t help but think about the woman I’m about to marry. Lev’s description of her beauty contrasts sharply with the image I have in my mind of her father, Gerald Russo—an overweight, pudgy little balding man with an ego far too big for his size.

But then again, surprises are not uncommon in our world, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s to expect the unexpected.

***

While packing up my bag to leave, I glance at the clock that ticks ominously, counting down to my momentous event. I glance at it and realize that in just a few hours, I’ll be standing at the altar, marrying a woman I’ve never met.

The apprehension courses through my veins as I gather my belongings and prepare to leave the underground ring.

“Hey, Damien,” a familiar voice calls out just as I’m about to exit. It’s one of my fellow fighters, a guy who goes by the name of Razor. “You really leaving? There’s another fight.”

“I’m done for the day,” I reply, adjusting the gym bag slung over my shoulder. “Besides, I have some... business to attend to.”

“Business?” Razor raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

“Family business,” I clarify, not wanting to go into details. I’d rather keep the arranged nature of the marriage to myself—the less people know about my personal life, the better.

Razor nods, seemingly satisfied with my explanation. “Well, good luck with that. See you around, man.”

“Thanks,” I say, offering him a quick nod before stepping out into the daylight.

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