Page 25 of The Bratva's Forced Bride

They didn’t bother asking. The interest in their eyes conveyed their expectations for a reasonable answer.

“I’m going to marry her.”

Viktor choked on his drink and the heat in Damien’s gaze simmered. Now, he looked amused.

“That’s fucking absurd,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “Why would you go to that extent to get him back here?”

Simple.

“It makes sense, doesn’t it?” I pointed at Viktor, who had a crazy smile on his lips. “If any man even dared to look at Ava for too long, you would pluck his eyes out in seconds.”

He nodded. “Fuck, yeah.”

“Same.” I crossed one leg over the other. “If Logan truly cares about her and hears that she’s going to get married to someone else, he’s going to show himself.”

“And if he doesn’t? What then?” Damien questioned.

I grinned. “What do you mean by ‘what then?’ Last time I checked, the clock was ticking. And I’ve reached the golden age.”

Viktor coughed into his hand. “Fifty is the golden age.”

“And you’re not fifty,” Damien added with a quirked brow.

“No, I’m not. But, as I said, time passes quickly, I’m forty and old enough to marry.” I grinned.

Damien sat forward with a laugh on his lips, ready to argue. “You want to settle down?”

“Well, what’s the fucking problem with that? Don’t tell me you haven’t always dreamed of watching your little brother settle down someday with a homely woman, in a little house, by the countryside?”

That broke a smile out of him. “Little house by the countryside? Yeah, right. Like you would ever.”

“Chill, brother. If Logan doesn’t show up, I’ve still got myself a wife.”

They were silent for a while, exchanging glances, while the high notes of the performer boomed into the hall. I gave them time, inspected my fingernails, and drummed them on the edge of the table.

When they turned with raised brows and arrogant smirks, I wasn’t surprised. Damien leaned forward with folded arms on the table. He stroked his jaw and wagged a finger at me.

“We’ve come to a conclusion … you like the girl.”

I might have laughed, but I didn’t find the accusation funny. The chances of liking Addison Mae were unlikely. I didn’t like her. I didn’t like anyone. To like meant to be fond of; to show affection, to care for.

Fuck, no.

I liked her body, yes. It drove me to the brink just thinking about how there was this crazy pull between us. But that was it. End of story.

“I’m only doing to Logan what he did to us. Dishonor for dishonor.”

Viktor played with the silver ring on his finger. “You didn’t deny the accusation.”

I did. In my head. I didn’t like Addison Mae.

“I don’t have to fucking prove anything.”

Damien snorted and leaned back on his chair after he said, “Then, why don’t you just stick to fucking her? Because take it from us: marriage is a fucking big deal, Mark. Don’t go jumping into murky waters.”

Before Damien mentioned it, I had thought about it. But Addison was pure and innocent. She didn’t belong in our world, not to mention the insinuations that came with it.

A one-time fuck girl? She wasn't.

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