Page 13 of The Bratva King's Claimed Bride

I picture Igor standing in front of me, his large frame towering over me and those large hands enveloping mine.

I can’t help but wonder what else about him is… large.

I try to push the thought out of my mind. He’s an enemy. I mean, for hell’s sake, they kidnapped me when I was about to execute my plan with the Milovs.

I toss and turn until, eventually, I’m so exhausted I fall asleep. I wake up not knowing where I am at first.

Then I remember.

I’m at my kidnapper’s estate.

The door opens, and a dark-haired beauty sweeps into the room.

“Hello, I thought you’d be up already. I’ve brought breakfast with me so you can eat while we’re busy.”

“Busy doing what? Who are you?” I ask as I climb out of bed and slip into my shoes.

“Oh, sorry, that’s right. We haven’t met. I’m Yvonne.” She steps forward and holds out her hand. I shake it, somewhat confused.

“I’m Arina. I’m confused. What are we busy doing?” I ask again.

“Getting you ready for the wedding, silly. I’ve brought the most beautiful gown. The tailor will fit it to you, then we’ll go downstairs to Igor…”

I interrupt her, holding my hand up. “Woah! I’m not marrying anyone, least of all Igor. I demand you release me at once. Can’t you see, this is being done against my will?”

Yvonne purses her lips, and I realize she doesn’t have much say in the matter. “Eat some breakfast, go on. The pancakes are nice and hot and rolled in brown sugar and syrup. One of my favorites.”

I don’t move, and Yvonne pops her hands on her hips. “You’ll get nowhere on an empty stomach.”

She has a point.

I go over to the table and sit down. I use a knife and fork and tuck into the pancakes. They are delicious, just as she described them. Very sweet, though. I eat as much as I can before I turn to see a woman come in with a beautiful white gown and another one with a basket of towels.

“You’re not getting me into that,” I protest.

“It’s the only way you’re leaving this room,” Yvonne retorts. “Unless you don’t want your freedom.”

“Listen, I don’t know what Igor thinks he can accomplish with this, but if it’s to get back at my half-brothers, there’s no point. They don’t care about me,” I say.

Yvonne motions to the gown. “Have a shower, and then get into the gown. You can tell me all about it.”

I frown and stand up, kicking my shoes off. The woman hands me the basket, and I take it to the bathroom. I close the door behind me.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. There must be a way out. Maybe once I’m out of this room, there’ll be an opportunity to run. I’ll have to take my chances.

I take the towels off the top of the basket to find expensive shampoo and conditioner beneath it. The basket also holds a luxurious body wash and body lotion, a hairbrush, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and clean underwear.

I blink at the thoughtfulness of it but then dismiss it as a way to soften me toward them. They won’t win me over so easily. However, I will enjoy the things they’ve brought, as I have no other choice. Besides, I have a terrible taste in my mouth, and I was worried about not brushing my teeth.

The water in the shower runs hot, and the shampoo smells wonderful. I take my time—on purpose—then slowly dry off and wrap a towel around my body and hair.

When I come out of the bathroom, Yvonne, the woman, and someone new are waiting for me. “This is the tailor,” Yvonne says. “He’ll adjust the gown to fit.” Yvonne smiles at me and indicates the gown the woman holds up for me.

I turn my back on them before I climb into the gown. The tailor fastens it and starts to fix the bodice so it hugs me.

My heart hammers as I try to figure out what to do next. I need to try a different tactic. Maybe the problem is that I don’t know enough about Igor to figure out what to do.

“Fine, can I at least know more about my husband-to-be before I get blindly married?” I ask, looking at Yvonne.

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