Page 9 of Forced By the Bratva

Plus, it helped that she was attractive, with the kind of soft beauty that could be dangerous.

I could remember clearly how her sweet floral scent had enveloped my nostrils, forcing me to fight the urge to sneer at its sweetness. When my fingers had brushed against it, her skin was even softer than it looked, fair and white, with hardly any blemishes.

Her hair was a beautiful strawberry blonde, lush and curly, forming a sweet frame for her heart-shaped face. Her eyes were a piercing shade of green, her cheekbones and jaw were delicate and regal, and her lips were as red as wine, perfect and voluptuous. A tiny birthmark above her upper lip added to her delicate, sensual beauty.

And how she’d fought to hold the character—obviously not who she was—had been ridiculously hilarious. I had planned to let it go on for as long as possible; I wanted to see just how much more she’d managed to cook up, but it had become too painful to watch at some point as she struggled to concoct more ridiculous stories.

It was evident that she didn’t want to get married to me. Of course, I didn’t want it either, but here we were. Besides, I would pick her a hundred times over if I had to choose between her and bratty Veronica. She’d been easy to talk to—at least after dropping the façade—and seemed like the perfect entertainment for me.

Strangely, her mesmerizing eyes, perfect figure, sweet scent, and silky hair had refused to leave my mind, even after several days. On several occasions, I’d caught my thoughts drifting to her. She was very desirable, and I knew one thing for sure.

I wanted her.

This wasn’t just about business anymore. It wasn’t about forming an ally or obeying the Pakhan’s order. Suddenly, this marriage didn’t seem forced anymore, and I even found myself looking forward to the actual wedding. I could imagine her soft, supple skin underneath me as I fuck her, and the thought alone was enough to excite me. I wanted this marriage now, and there was nothing anybody could do to stop me.

“Boss, are you even listening to me? Is everything okay?”

Timur’s voice brought me out of my reverie, and I raised my head to find his concerned eyes scanning me. My grin widened, and the shock on his face became more prominent.

“Of course, Timur, why wouldn’t it be?”

That threw my second-in-command off even more because his frown deepened.

“Well, for starters, I’ve been talking for a while, and it seems you haven’t been paying the slightest attention. Plus, you’ve been grinning like a kid at Christmas. I’m starting to get worried.”

I chuckled, proving his point even more because he scowled.

“Don’t be silly. Of course, I’ve been paying attention to you.”

“Yeah? What was the last thing I said?” he shot.

I raised my hands in surrender. “Okay, fine, you’ve got me. You have my attention now, so what were you saying?” I

Timur sighed heavily, rubbing his temples as if dealing with me gave him a headache, but I couldn’t care.

“I was talking about Daniel’s two daughters. Dominik had thought Daniel had one daughter and that she was the sole heir, so all his wealth would eventually go to her, but if that’s not the case, the plan flopped. It might not be worth it if he must divide his wealth between two daughters.”

It was my turn to sigh. “It doesn’t matter. Nevertheless, this marriage will be a good thing, and we’ll be gaining an influential ally. In the long run, it might not be a bad idea.”

Timur frowned. “I thought you were against it! You've been acting weird since your date with your future bride. Now, suddenly, you want this marriage. Did something happen?”

Where could I even start? Jenna was a captivating woman who’d caught my attention enough to interest me. Now, I wanted more.

The sound of my office door slamming shut brought me back to reality, and I realized that Timur had stormed out of the room—probably because I’d been ignoring him again.

But could he blame me?

Chapter 7 - Jenna

The reflection that stared back at me from the mirror was almost unrecognizable. I wasn’t one to mess with makeup, so its magic was lost on me; right now, however, I looked exactly like a fairytale princess that had stepped right out of a book, and it was easy to feel like one—especially since I looked the part.

The last hour had been filled with me being washed with sweet-smelling soaps and soothing fragrances. A combination of oils had been massaged into my skin until it shone like polished gold. My hair had also been styled to perfection, and around my neck sat a beautiful necklace. It had been a gift from my father, and although I was still upset with him for selling me off like this, the gesture had been kind.

I still couldn’t believe I was getting married. Just one week ago, if someone had told me I’d be sitting in a bridal suite getting glammed up for my wedding, I would’ve laughed in their face and called them a liar—but here I was, and my mother wasn’t even here to witness the day.

She didn’t even know that I was getting married. She wasn’t in the best condition, and I hadn’t been able to explain it during my last visit—but on a more positive note, her treatment had begun. My father had paid for the first installment, and I was beyond grateful. It made doing this worth every bit.

I sat in the bridal suite and stared at my reflection in the dressing mirror before me. My makeup artist had just finished applying the last touches of makeup on my face, and she was now standing in front of me, fixing my hair.

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