Page 10 of Forced By the Bratva

“There.” Laura’s nasal voice reminded me of her presence. She pointed to a part of my hair, and the makeup artist stared at her before adjusting it slightly. I knew Laura had nothing to say or show her; there was nothing wrong with my hair. As usual, she couldn’t stand it when someone else was the center of attention.

She wore a grin as she folded her arms across her chest. “She looks like a perfect bride for him now,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll like her. So pretty.”

I gulped and folded my fist. No matter how Laura taunted me, I needed to stay calm. I had to avoid overreacting and creating more problems for myself at this point. I was used to her taunting, so none of this was new.

From a very young age, I'd learned that Laura loved to cause me pain—like when she ruined my fifth birthday, my prom dress, and even petty things, like adding chili to my ice cream.

I tried to focus on the positive side of the whole wedding, which was my mother’s treatment.

“If you guys are done in there, we should get going.” That was my father, calling from outside the room.

I stared at myself one last time, and my heart sank into my stomach. I looked gorgeous, and it wasn’t for someone I loved. It wasn’t for someone worth it.

I felt like crying, but I held it back.

Laura sat beside me as we drove to the church while my dad sat in the passenger seat up front.

“You have to behave yourself, Jenna, when you get there,” my father advised me.

My eyes were fixed on the scenery outside the window. I didn’t want to look at Laura or my dad. I could still feel the grin on her face.

“You’re not getting married to another young man or teenager out there. You must remember your values.”

I knew what my father was trying to say, but he wouldn’t say it directly. How would it look? He was giving his daughter to a monster.

After a long drive, we finally arrived at the church. I alighted from the car after the driver opened the door for me. I walked toward the church entrance with Laura and my father.

A man in a black suit rushed toward us and bowed slightly before my dad. I’d never seen him before, so I didn’t know who he was or what he represented.

“Feliks isn’t here yet,” he told my father shakily.

My father’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean he’s not here?”

I remained calm and kept my mouth shut as we walked toward the church entrance, my father and the nameless man taking the lead.

They talked in whispers; it seemed like there was an issue. I stole a glance at Laura and realized that her forehead was creased with a frown. Of course, I knew she wasn’t worried about Feliks as a human; she only wanted me to marry him.

We walked into the church, and my father made Laura and me sit at the back while he walked away with the man in the suit.

I didn’t take in the sight of the building, or the people present at first—I was more concerned that my groom wasn’t here yet. I wasn’t worried for good but for evil.

I prayed in my heart that he’d never come. I put my palms together and placed them in front of me while Laura craned her skinny neck to look around the church—trying to find Feliks or my father—but I didn’t care.

I was more concerned about the small prayer I was saying in my head.

“Where the fuck is this son of a bitch?” Laura whispered a curse.

I giggled lightly. Laura was shaking her leg continuously while she fidgeted with her hands, and I tried to stay calm.

After a few minutes, I left the church, searching for my father. I’d noticed him leave through the front door. Outside the church, I heard a few people discussing Feliks.

“We’ve been asked to wait, and even after twenty minutes, the groom is still not here!”

I smirked as I watched the drama. This was good news—maybe he’d never arrive.

“Do you think there’s any point in waiting?” another person asked.

One of them turned around and saw me. They let out fake smiles, and soon, they all disappeared into the church. I looked around for my father, but I could not find him.

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