Page 3 of Forced Bratva Bride

“Paval, we have a problem, Dimitri is refusing to collect today. He says we canceled, but I know we didn’t.”

“Fuck, that shipment was on a deadline.”

“I know, that’s why I booked it weeks ago.”

I tell him about the e-mail, and I hear a low growl rumble through the phone.

“Someone hacked your e-mail or sent it and made it look like it was you.”

“I have some serious protection on my computers. That wouldn't be an easy task.”

“I’m telling you, Maxim, someone is sabotaging us. Subtle, underhanded bullshit that is causing massive issues with our clients. Pay Dimitri whatever extra he's asking, just get the shipment out. I’ll push ahead with what we discussed this morning. We have to get to the bottom of this.”

“Fuck,” I mutter, putting down the phone and dialing Dimitri. He's a bit of a scumbag, and I know he's going to push the price far beyond the norm when he realizes how much we need this, but I have to get this container off today.

An hour later things are back on track, but the impact on our profit for this deal is agitating. My brothers are right. We have to get to the bottom of this. These constant interferences add up, leaving us out of pocket or with angry clients, and in our business, you don’t want either of those things.

I climb back into my car once things are sorted and head home. My mind is in chaos, but after dealing with that, I'm more accepting of what I have to do for the family business.

Back home at my mansion outside the city, I pour a whiskey and sit at my dining room table, watching through the window as the sun begins to set behind a thick grey cloud, casting red light that looks like flames.

My phone vibrates against the table. Paval.

“Paval, everything's sorted with the shipment,” I confirm, realizing I forgot to call him and let him know.

“Good, good. Listen, I just got off a call with Angelo Napoli. He's agreed, and you'll be marrying his daughter. He's pleased with the idea of the union and will arrange a party for next week to announce the engagement publicly.”

For a moment, all I can do is sit in silence. Perhaps I had been hoping that he would change his mind and the plan would fall through.

“Maxim?”

“I’m here. Alright. Let me know the details,” I say stiffly.

Once the call is ended, I pick up my glass of whiskey and pour the rest of it down my throat, feeling the icy burn of the gold liquid and letting it push my other thoughts aside.

Chapter 2 - Chiara

The doorbell chimes loudly, and I jump a little, lost in the book I was reading.

“Chiara, won’t you get the door? I think that's the pizza,” my roommate shouts from the shower.

“Alright,” I shout back, putting my book down and skipping toward the door.

I pull it open and greet the guy standing there, holding the pizza as he eyes me up and down with a grin on his face. “Hey, delivery for Lisa?”

“Yep, that’s us.” I take the boxes from his hand and ignore the way he is blatantly checking me out. “Thanks a mil,” I grin, and then slam the door closed, rolling my eyes.

“You don’t have to wait for me,” Lisa says, rushing through to her room with a towel wrapped around her body, wet hair dripping all over the floor.

Both of us are a bit hungover. I'm not usually a big drinker, but this past week has been crazy. Every night there's been a party happening somewhere—we just graduated, and it's been a nonstop celebration.

I leave Lisa’s pizza—the one with pineapple all over it—on the kitchen counter, and carry my own—pineapple free—back to the sofa where I was reading.

My head hurts a little, and I am so hungry I feel like I could eat four pizzas myself. The smell of the cheesy bacon and mushroom delight is causing my stomach to growl in excitement.

Just as I sit down, Lisa rushes into the kitchen, yanking the pizza box lid open and pulling out a slice, biting into it excitedly. I guess she is as hungry as I am. I chuckle.

With a mouthful of pizza, she picks up her box and flops down onto the sofa next to me.

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