Page 76 of Forced Bratva Bride

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My father and I walk into the party at Paval’s house together. The place is already packed.

I have a smile on my face, but it feels tight and forced. My shoulders are so stiff with stress that I can’t even bring myself to relax them.

I greet people as we walk past, and my father is welcomed into the crowd warmly, with fondness. None of them know who he really is.

How can I be surprised, though, when I lived with him, grew up with him, and didn’t know who he really was for all that time?

I spot Paval and Kiril wandering through the crowd toward us.

“Angelo, I am so glad you could make it,” Paval greets him as warmly, as he always has.

Kiril shakes his hand. “Can I get you a drink?”

“A bourbon,” my father says, his tone even. “And a gin for my daughter.”

“Chiara, you look incredible. We were relieved to find out your father was there to help you. Honestly, I don’t know what we would have done if something happened to you.”

“Yes, I am so grateful to my father as well. He's my world. I don’t know what I'd do without him.”

“So, you would like a gin?”

“Yes, please.” I nod politely, stepping closer to my father to show my allegiance to him.

“Come, sweetheart, we have to say hello to everyone.” My father drapes my hand over his arm and pats my hand, a fond gesture I used to find comforting. Now it disgusts me.

My father speaks with a lot of people, and I dutifully stay by his side. I watch as Kiril makes his way through the crowd, socializing, but mostly people are disinterested in making conversation with him, one of the Dubrovs. There are whispers around me about the bomb, and how the evidence points to them. It makes me sick, and I battle not to defend them.

But I can’t. I have to keep it together.

It is becoming startlingly clear that my father’s very long-term plan is starting to work. People are turning against the Dubrovs.

The air feels so thick with tension as discussion starts and then falls into hushed tones when any of the brothers walk past. I am so nervous, trying to keep my cool and maintain my facade around my father.

So far, I'm doing really well.

And I manage to keep doing well right up until the moment I see Maxim in the crowd.

My entire body just feels this incredibly strong pull, almost out of my control. It's so intense that I just want to run from my father’s side and leap into Maxim’s arms.

Then, when he looks up and his bright blue eyes lock with mine, it gets ten times worse.

I love him.

I want to feel him against me.

I want that safety, and that reassurance.

I take a deep breath and manage to not even let the smallest trace of a smile touch my lips, even though inside, my heart is screaming.

Maxim immediately makes his way over to me.

“Angelo, Chiara." He stares at me with longing in his eyes.

“Maxim,” my father greets him, borderline coldness in his voice. My father’s confidence has increased drastically since he first arrived here. He's been hearing the same things I have and he knows that the Dubrovs are losing this battle.

“Chiara, can I have a word with you?” Maxim asks politely.

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