Page 6 of Forced By the Bratva

Love was one of the most significant vulnerabilities a man had. It was a sham that I’d uncovered at an early age. Plus, there was no love for men like me. Maybe sometimes we got lucky, like Dominik. Sometimes, even men like me managed to escape from the claws of death, blood, and revenge and find the other halves of our souls. However, that was only a handful—very, very few. The majority of us haven’t experienced that in our lifetime.

I was a man of the darkness. It’s who I’d always been, what I’d always known. I’d seen and experienced too much to be able to fall under the control of a woman in the name of love. It just wasn’t for me.

The notification light on my phone caught my eye, indicating I had a text.

New information regarding your wedding.

The message burned a hole in my vision, but I resolutely refused to acknowledge it. I turned my attention to Kirill, who had his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on the chessboard.

“It doesn’t matter if we have to spend a lifetime together. This union will have no friendship, and I plan to make that known as soon as possible. It’s strictly business, and we’ll treat it as such.”

Kirill raised his eyes to meet mine. I could see the disapproval and protest in his gaze, but I slowly shook my head.

“It is business, Kirill, and that’s it.” My voice was cold, but I wasn’t interested in this wedding or its preparations, and I would make that clear to her.

Just then, another notification made my phone vibrate, and I moved to pick it up, intending to dismiss it and put my phone on Do Not Disturb. However, the sender of this message was unknown, which sparked my curiosity.

Unknown - 3:16 pm: Hello, hubby to be, fingers crossed you’re not in the middle of some nasty shit, and this message gets to you in time. Your future wife, or perhaps a future headache, would like a word. So, whenever you’re done with your nasty shit, kindly reach out to me.

Kindly? I didn’t know Barbie could be polite.

My scowl melted, replaced by a slow, surprised grin. My fingers danced over the touchscreen as I tried to think of a response. This was quite an interesting turn. Maybe, just maybe, this marriage wouldn’t be entirely as joyless and annoying as I’d anticipated. She seems to have a good sense of humor.

Kirill’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, at my sudden change in demeanor. He looked at me with an expectation that made me chuckle.

“Well,” I drawled, a hint of amusement dancing in my voice, “perhaps meeting her wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.”

I typed a response to my bride.

Chapter 5 - Jenna

I pulled the tiny, fluffy jacket I’d chosen for the occasion a little tighter around my body, but it was useless; it did nothing to dispel the biting cold that attacked me. The sound of my heels clacking against the marble floor reminded me that I needed to embody this character as best as possible. That was the only way.

As I walked in, I couldn’t help but notice the sophisticated ambiance. The restaurant's lighting was soft, and the plush seating and beautiful decor were enough to set the mood for unique dining. There were fresh flowers on the tables, sparkling glassware, and polished silverware that reminded me painfully that I was way out of my comfort zone. I was impressed by the place he’d chosen; I hadn’t expected anything less, but it was nice that he’d put thought into this meeting.

However, I didn’t belong here at all, and everything in me fought to stay in place instead of turning right around and taking a cab straight home. I initiated this, so I had to see it through.

“Hello. I’m here for my reservation with Mr. Sharov,” I politely told the man at the entrance. He immediately gave me a broad smile, recognizing the name.

I fought the urge to snicker at his attitude; I’d been around it all my life—ordinary people bending over backward for people they considered powerful and wealthy.

This restaurant was one of the most expensive and famous in the city, so it wasn’t hard to guess that its regulars were wealthy. When Feliks sent me the details of the reservations, I wasn’t surprised.

I adjusted the skimpy dress I’d chosen for the occasion, but it barely helped, and I huffed in discomfort.

“Miss Fairfax, right this way, please. Mr. Sharov will be joining you soon,” the doorman asked, and that was when it hit me.

Feliks still didn’t know that I’d taken Veronica’s place, so he thought he’d meet her here today. I was tempted to ask the man what first name I’d been booked under, but I didn’t want to raise any questions, so I nodded and let him lead me. I planned on telling Feliks as soon as he got here, anyway.

Although the restaurant was already busy, there was barely any noise, save for the occasional clank of a fork against a plate. My mother had always told me rich people never had anything interesting to talk about during their meals, so they usually focused their attention on their food as if it were the most exciting thing in the world.

I struggled to keep my head high as I walked; the path we took had diners turning in our direction, and I struggled not to falter under their gazes. Finally, we arrived at a series of stairs leading up to the rooftop.

“Just right here, Miss.”

I hummed in response, trying to hide how nervous I was.

The crisp evening air was refreshing, and I instantly regretted wearing such a skimpy dress as I sat at the secluded rooftop table. I was grateful for the privacy because it would at least make communication easier.

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