Page 4 of Forced Bratva Bride

“Did you also get the invite for Devon’s party tonight?” she asks, swallowing, and taking another bite.

“I did, but I can’t face another tequila shot. In fact, I am not sure I can ever drink tequila ever again,” I complain.

She chuckles. “I know, me too, but I might go anyway. I reckon after this pizza I'm going to feel a lot better.”

I shake my head. “Well, you're on your own tonight. I'm staying right here, under this fluffy blanket, with my book and numerous mugs of hot chocolate.”

“No, I need you. You can’t abandon me now.” Lisa pouts out her bottom lip.

“That worked on me last night, but not tonight. I won’t fall for your tactics twice.”

She rolls her eyes and picks up her phone. “Fine, I guess I can see if Sally is going.”

Lisa and I have been roommates since we were freshmen—we got on well from the first moment we met. We both studied cosmetology as our primary degree, but with me more interested in the business side of things I did a number of business economics courses to supplement what I was learning.

Lisa enjoys the more creative side of it all. Technically, we are very different people, but somehow that just makes us closer as friends.

We graduated a few weeks ago, but the lease on the apartment we share isn’t up until the end of Summer, so we still have some time together.

My time at university has been the best of my life. It was the only way I could get away from home, and my mafia family, and the lifestyle that comes with all of that.

I love my dad to the end of the world and back, but I needed to head out into the world and start my own life.

“You know, now we're done with college, you and I are going to have to start being all responsible and do things like get make a business plan and getting life insurance and all of that like real adults,” Lisa complains. “You should really take advantage of these last few weeks of freedom we have together.”

“That's the argument you used to get me to party with you on Tuesday. You really need to accept you aren’t going to win with me tonight,” I laugh.

“I had to try. Besides, it really is true.”

My phone rings loudly from somewhere beneath the sofa cushion, and I start digging around to find it.

I glance at the screen, then swipe to answer the call.

“Daddy,” I say, happily.

“Sweetheart, how are you doing over there?” His deep, gruff voice makes me smile.

My dad is a very calm man with a strong sense of business and has been my rock and mentor for as long as I can remember. My mom passed away when I was three. I don’t really remember anything about her, and even though my father remarried, I never actually got on with his new wife of her son, Stefano, my older stepbrother.

“It’s going great. We just got pizza, and I'm having a quiet night in.”

“Listen, sweetheart, I am sorry to drop this on you, but there is a bit of a family emergency and I need you to come home. I've already arranged the jet, the pilot will be at the airport tomorrow afternoon to fetch you.”

“Really? What's going on? Are you alright? Did something happen?” I sit up, feeling worried.

“Yes, I'm fine. Just make sure you are at the airport. One-thirty. I'm really looking forward to seeing you, sweetheart.”

I end the call, feeling confused. The last thing I want to do now is go home, right when I'm about to get things started with my own life, my own business, away from all the mafia influences. But I can never say no to my father, and whatever's going on, I know he wouldn’t call me like that unless it was really urgent. I guess it's something he needs to talk to me about in person.

The private jet lands, and instantly, I have a knot in my stomach. Home.

My father’s driver is waiting for me out on the tarmac, and climbing into the back seat of the car, I feel my shoulders tensing. I'm going to make this trip as short as possible. Once we've dealt with whatever this is, I'll be on the first flight out of here.

The driver pulls up outside the entrance of my father’s mansion. He opens the door for me as my father steps out of the front door and walks over to the car. I hop out and immediately rush over to him to wrap my arms around him.

“I missed you,” he says, pulling me into a tight hug.

He leads me into the house while the driver carries my bags inside. “So, what's going on?” I ask, feeling as though I might explode with anxiety since he hasn’t told me what this emergency is yet.

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