Page 15 of Stolen By the Bratva

“But there’s nothing wrong with sampling your cunt tonight.”

“No.” I flinched at his words, knowing that he intended to rape me right here in the hall. Hatred swept over my mind, casting a dark and violent energy through me as I fought back the best I could. He was too tall, too strong, and trapped to the wall, I was unable to run.

He unzipped his pants, grunting as he tried to pull his dick out.

“Miss Kastava.”

Andrey went still at the sound of one of my father’s soldiers. He was a kindly older man, one my mother allegedly helped when he was shot in the house.

“Is there a problem here?” he asked.

Andrey swore, backing up as he tucked himself back into his pants. My skirt fell back down as he retreated, and I caught my breath as I realized I’d been spared.

For now.

“No. No problem,” Andrey answered for me as he smiled at the soldier. “Just saying good night to my bride.”

Good night, my ass.

I turned, too startled to say thank you to the guard. Running was all I could think about, but I couldn’t. That display proved that my future would be as bleak and awful as I'd feared. As I paced in my room, high-strung with all this pent-up energy and adrenaline, I wished again that there were another option. Another bride to offer to them. Another man they could arrange for me.

Like Alek. The hit of desire he’d encouraged in me was so fleeting, so instant, and I wanted another dose of it.

Please, anything to avoid marrying that asshole…

My prayers wouldn’t be answered. I knew they wouldn’t be. Back and forth, I trekked in my room, but I couldn’t relax. I couldn’t sleep.

With nowhere else to go, I snuck out to do more work at the S.T.L. offices. I’d never come back here again. Whatever chores and email maintenance I did here wouldn’t matter tomorrow on my wedding day. But it was all I had to distract myself, all I could do to try to stop thinking about my fate.

Codes and weird email chains. I sighed as I clicked through the route of sending the information along to the correct spots. None of it made sense. I couldn’t decipher any of it, and I hardly cared, anyway.

As the night passed into morning, I kept at it regardless, vainly fantasizing about how I could solve the riddle of my life.

How I could hope for the improbable and figure out how to avoid my wedding.

7

ALEK

The day of the wedding dawned dark and stormy. It put me in a sinister mood, ready to impart some violence to ensure this union wouldn’t happen. Summers were hot and brutal with the heat of the city, but as I walked the last block toward the old church where Andrey would take Mila as his bride, a cool breeze threaded through the streets.

I’d never taken stock of my surroundings with too much sentiment. I wasn’t superstitious, and I didn’t have the creativity to assume my environment could add to my plans. Under the cover of dark, heavy clouds and the threat of rain, though, I could easily convince myself that the setting was appropriate.

Chaos. That was what the sky promised. And that was all I intended to bring to this ceremony.

Cars lined up along the street. On the sidewalks, guests hurried inside before the clouds opened and dumped a deluge. Humidity stuck to the surface of the windows as air-conditioning units cranked at top throttle to chill the building. Even though everyone rushed inside and claimed seats, I lingered outside, stalling and waiting for my opportune moment to strike.

Last night, Nikolai and Dmitri stayed over to discuss how I could pull the brakes on this wedding. Killing the groom or bride seemed excessive, and it would be a weightier grievance than merely preventing their wedding from proceeding as planned. If I could secure evidence that the Kastavas were trying to fuck us over, Pavel wouldn’t want Andrey to marry Mila. All I needed was time to prove that my suspicions were warranted. After I accomplished that, I didn’t give a shit who married whom.

As long as it’s not me at the altar. I snorted a laugh as I leaned up against the rough brick wall to the church. Marriage wouldn’t be in the cards for me. I doubted I’d ever want to marry, and since I was only a cousin, the son of a dead man, my marriage wouldn’t carry much clout for the Family. My life was better spent killing, spying, and supervising the family’s businesses. I hadn’t bothered to seek any women lately, but the alternative, to only have one woman to look forward to, didn’t appeal to me.

Andrey disagreed. He’d already announced his intention to cheat on this Mila woman. Affairs weren’t anything out of the norm, but I’d never shared that opinion. My mother was loyal to my father, and before his death, he had yet to move on from her and seek a lover after her passing when I was five years old.

Maxim was young enough to be optimistic that he could have what our parents had once shared. Our baby brother was the hopeless romantic, but I was content to stay jaded like this, alone and untethered to live my life as I saw fit.

If I were to be stuck with a woman… I shook my head and lit a cigarette as I stalled, amused that my thoughts meandered to such a silly topic. I’d want a curvy spitfire like that secretary.

It’d been two days now, and still, I couldn’t get her out of my mind. I kept thinking back to her bold gaze, unflinching as she stared me down in that office. Her kissable, fuckable lips as she’d pouted and expressed her uneasiness with what I said. And the way she’d crossed her arms? That sex kitten knew what she was doing, enticing me to check out her generous tits.

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