Page 11 of The Bratva King's Claimed Bride

“You’re going to force a girl to marry you, and you won’t even give her a decent wedding. That’s just rude, Igor.” Yvonne crosses her arms. “Give me at least a day to get her a gown and some flowers. Every girl deserves that, at least.”

I sigh and sit back. “It really isn’t necessary. I doubt she will feel like putting on a gown for me.”

“I will convince her to. Please?” Yvonne pouts at me.

I sigh. “One day, that won’t work anymore.” I wave her off. “Fine, go get a gown and flowers.”

“And a suit for you.” She stands up and hurries out before I can stop her.

Matvey chuckles. “Now you’ve done it. You’re lucky we don’t have much family here, or you’d be funding a huge party.”

I smile at him. “I don’t mind. It’s only a day we have to wait. Phone that guy, though, and ask him to be here tomorrow to officiate the wedding. Make it clear we’re to be married no matter what the bride tries to say.”

“Got it.” My brother stands up and walks out of the room.

I sit back to enjoy the rest of my cigar.

I wonder what Arina is doing now and if she’s settling in and eating lunch. I wonder if she’ll eat dinner with me.

I doubt she’ll want to, and even though she’s only a half-sister to Kervyn, she could still be pretty dangerous. I will have to watch my back.

I have a free evening, but I can’t help but glance at the paperwork on my desk. In the top file is all the information about the businesses that Danil owns, including his casino.

I might not be able to get Arina to join me for dinner, but perhaps I can scout out Danil for future reference.

I go upstairs and strip down. I have a hot shower, trying to divert my thoughts from Arina as I wash myself. Once out, I splash on some expensive aftershave and run a comb through my hair to pull it back out of my eyes. I need a haircut.

I dress in a suit, no tie, and head downstairs, where my bodyguards are waiting.

I turn to one of the female servants standing nearby. “Take her something delicious for dinner. Offer her some wine. Make sure she’s comfortable, but make sure you take a guard with you so she doesn’t escape. She will try anything.”

“Yes, sir,” the woman replies, gives a slight curtsy, and hurries off.

I turn to my guard. “We’re going gambling. I just need one of you.”

“I’ll come with you,” Joel says. “I know all the great casinos around here.”

“I want to go to Sunset Strip,” I say as we walk together toward the car.

“That’s owned by Danil Milov, sir,” Joel says hesitantly.

“Exactly.” I climb into the car, and he follows.

“To Sunset Strip,” Joel tells the driver.

The driver glances into the rearview mirror to confirm, and Joel nods before the car pulls off.

I settle back. The sun is setting, and the lights are coming on. Vegas is beautiful and bright. You can hardly tell it’s nighttime here with so many lights as we approach the busier city center.

Traffic is a nightmare, but I’m in no rush. I have the evening to enjoy myself. Call it my stag party.

We eventually reach the casino, and my driver drops us off in the front. I walk in with Joel behind me.

I’m surprised they don’t search him. I assume a lot of people come in here with bodyguards. I walk straight toward the high-stakes tables, and a guard holds a hand up.

“Sir, this is the high-stakes section. Bets of half a million or more.”

“Where do I get my chips?” I ask, taking out my bank card.

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