Page 33 of The Bratva's Forced Bride

After Maeva left, the garden was the only other place where I could breathe normally and push all thoughts of Mark and Logan to the back of my mind. I wanted to be alone, to have time to think.

I leaned back in the Adirondack chair and looked at the sun hiding behind the clouds, remembering how my father and I had once gone on a shopping spree. From the mall, we ended up at Starbucks and I consumed way more sugar than necessary. It was fun and I wanted to relive the memory of having my dad so close to me. I wondered how he was. I made a mental note, to ask Mark if I could at least call him.

I missed him.

I missed Maria too.

How had things gone downhill so quickly?

A shadow fell on me, and I squinted. It was a woman. Blue eyes, freckled cheeks. Unfamiliar but pretty, nonetheless. She held a tray out to me and had a bright smile that reached her cheeks. If I guessed correctly, she could only be a few years older than me.

“Oh, hello,” I smile back.

“Coffee for the lady,” was all she said.

I frowned and eyed the ceramic mug on the wooden tray with concern. In all the days I've spent in this house, I’ve only ever seen guards patrolling and Mark’s men assigned to special duties. But a maid? I had never met one. And even if I had, she had to have a set schedule that required her partial presence in the house. But the kitchen had been mine for weeks now. When did that change?

Maybe after he finally decided that you are disposable.

Shifting on the chair, I peered closer. “I’m sorry, have I seen you here before?”

She shook her head and laughed softly. “No. I’m new here. Got hired yesterday.”

“Oh.”

What did I expect? That Mark would talk to me before hiring extra help, as if we were lovers sharing the details of our lives? Such a dream. It was his money, his house, and I was nothing more than a prisoner here.

I took the coffee with a shy smile and raised it to my lips. “Thank you.” Espresso.

It tasted great but I wasn’t the biggest fan. Still, I had to show gratitude. Beaming, I lifted my head with a bright smile. “Thank you, for being so thoughtful.”

She nodded but did not leave. She watched me like a hawk on the lookout for dinner. It was creepy to me, and I found it strange that she was hanging around. But she was new here. Maybe she was lonely and needed someone to talk to.

I returned the mug to the tray and started to ask what her name was when a sudden haze took over my mind, leaving me disoriented. The words on my lips turned to a jumbled mess and my arm slipped, sending the tray and the mug crashing to the ground.

“Oh,” I mumbled and clutched my head. Something felt terribly wrong, like I was floating and being smothered by a pillow weighing tons at the same time. And she was still standing there, looking at me like a hawk.

I tried to stand up, but my knees wobbled, and my eyelids drooped. Only one name fought its way through the haze, and I opened my mouth to call out to him, “Ma ...”

The rest of the words never made it out.

I felt my body collapse to the ground. And the world around me went black.

****

When I opened my eyes, I was no longer in Mark’s house, guarded by men dressed in black.

I scanned the room quickly. I was lying on a rickety old spring bed in a brightly lit room with peeling cream walls and brown curtains. It smelled of cigarettes and insecticide.

My nose wrinkled and my head ached. Mark’s voice came back to me. I have enemies. I don’t want anyone to take my bride away from me like I took you away from your loving groom.

The coffee, the maid with no name, and ... I couldn’t even muster the strength to get scared. I just wondered who my new captor was. After all, this was a game, wasn’t it? I had been taken from Logan to exact revenge, and now I had been taken from Mark for possibly the same reason. I could only prepare myself for whoever it would be and how it would turn out.

Carefully, I tiptoed toward the door, trying to peek, when the old-fashioned knob turned, and I jumped back with my arms raised in self-defense.

Broad shoulders came through the door, followed by a baseball cap with blond hair and strong arms protruding from a black T-shirt. When I spotted the fine hairs disappearing under the sleeve of the T-shirt, my heart plummeted into my stomach.

Without thinking and without paying attention to the grocery bag in his arms, I threw myself into his arms. He wrapped an arm around me and the tears I had been holding back for weeks finally came gushing out.

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