Page 9 of The Bratva King's Claimed Bride

I don’t know what to say. This seems otherworldly. What the fuck is going on here?

I set out with my plan to destroy the Milov family, and suddenly, I’m getting married to another family to join the two together. Did my brothers think this was the best way to meet me? Although, from the sound of what that Matvey said, I don’t think they really know.

Is this some old rival bullshit I’m being brought into?

“Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve,” I say as he leads me down the hall, “but the Milovs won’t care if you marry me. They don’t care about me.”

“I’m sure they don’t,” he sounds sarcastic, and I twist to look up at him.

“They don’t, I mean it. They’ve never cared about me.”

“This will all be made easier if you don’t fight it. I will have someone bring you some food. Is there anything specific you want?” He tilts his head to the side as we stop outside a door.

“This will be your room until we’re wed. Then we will share a bed.”

“I’m not sharing a bed with anyone,” I growl.

He opens the door and pushes me in. “I’m afraid you don’t have any choice in the matter.”

A forced marriage.

He wants to force me into marriage to strengthen ties with the brothers who have ignored me my entire life. They grew up spoiled with love and care, with a proper education, and without the beatings that I got. The abuse that I endured.

They are here because they were treated well. I am here despite how I was treated.

And now some asshole is going to force me to marry him because I’m related to those pansy assholes. I get it. They’re supposed to be these scary Mafia dudes. I’ve seen them out with their families. They’re just normal guys.

I thought they wanted to use me as ransom, but now it seems like what they actually want is to use me as a tool for revenge.

In any other circumstance, I might have found Igor charming. He’s tall, has a big frame, and large… hands. Despite his rough scars and tattoos, he has something that makes you get lost in his dark eyes.

Is he also in the Mafia? I’ve never heard of the Sidorov family before. He did say he’d just moved here from Russia, so maybe he’s come to make his mark on American soil.

I wonder if that’s why he’s marrying me. For a green card. It doesn’t explain why he thinks I’ll be sleeping in his bed if it’s just a sham.

I look around the room and sigh. There’s a four-poster bed and a door that leads to an en-suite bathroom. I cross to the windows and try to open them, but they’re sealed shut. Of course, I doubt he’d let me into a room where I could escape.

I pace around the room, looking for something I can use as a weapon.

The door opens, and I look up as a guard enters with a young woman.

“Your lunch, ma’am,” she says, walking across to the table in the corner and setting down a tray. It seems Igor couldn’t choose what to send me, so I have mini sandwiches and cut-up fruit. There’s also a pitcher of what looks like lemonade and a tall glass.

“Enjoy,” the young girl says.

“Thanks,” I mumble, wondering if I can crack the glass against the guard’s head standing outside hard enough to knock him out so I can escape.

Chapter 4 - Igor

I like them feisty, but I don’t like disobedience. It’s a fine line. I’ve built myself up from that quiet little boy in Russia to who I am now—a leader of a family, a large family that commands respect.

If she tries to run away again, I’ll have to teach her a lesson about what it means to be part of our family.

We aren’t the Milovs. We aren’t soft, calm men. We are passionate and rough, and we love fiercely.

Love. I’m already talking about love.

It’s not love; it’s an intoxication.

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