Page 35 of Caught By the Bratva Beast

The thought of spending a lifetime with her makes me want to tear out my hair. And then should we have children which will be expected of us? They would be running around as dumb as their mother and none of my genes will be able to do anything to prevent that. I have a boring life and boring children. My family would become the laughingstock of the Bratva.

Any hope I have at making Pearl mine will disappear. As soon she’ll finds out about the engagement she’ll cease any contact with me.

Ivan sighs and flicks the ash from his cigar. “I get the sense that you're not pleased about this arrangement.”

“To be frank, cousin, did you expect me to be? You're dictating that I must marry this woman that I don't like. Quite frankly, a woman that I think a nun would have a challenging time liking. And then I'll be expected of children with her. Do you want dumb cousins? Do you want the Bratva of the future to be run by idiots?”

“Perhaps if you were nicer to women, you would have found somebody to marry before you turned forty. Now it's a year later and you're still alone with no signs of settling down even though it's expected of you “

“The only reason I think I don't have a woman lined up is because you've never met her. I can assure you. I've met a woman. We’re engaged so I couldn't possibly marry Irina.”

“You have a woman.”

Smirking, I nod, happy to slide out of this deal, even with a little white lie, at least for now. “Yes. I have a fiancée.”

***

Pearl laughs until she cries, doubling over and putting her hands on her thighs. “You've got to be kidding me. You think that we're getting married? What the hell? Did you hit your head on the way over here? Were you in an accident? Do I need to call an ambulance?”

“No, I wasn't in an accident. No, I don't need an ambulance. We are getting married.”

She snorts, but this time it's intentional, her eyes rolling as she walks away from me and into the kitchen. She reaches up into one of the top cupboards, hauling down a bottle of Mezcal Tequila and pouring herself a healthy shot. She throws it back before pouring a second and throwing that back as well.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” I ask, standing up and snatching the bottle from her. “That’s your response, getting drunk?”

“Why not? I figured we could both live in a fantasy land. I drink whatever I want. You continue to spew bullshit about us getting married because it's not happening. I barely know you. You don't know me. We went on a weekend trip together. And then you precede to fucking ghost me for the last ten days and you think you can just walk in here and tell me that we're going to get married?”

I move around the counter, crowding her, making her move back until her hips hit the edge of the sink. “I'm serious.”

“So am I.” Her eyes are hard with defiance as she crosses her arms. “I'm not going to marry you. And if you think this is just some stupid ploy to get me to sleep with you and then there's going to be divorce after, screw you.”

“Regardless of whether we were screwing or not. You're marrying me. End of story. You can either walk down the aisle or I can drag you.”

She rises on her toes, though she's still too short for her eyes to be level with mine. Her finger pokes in my chest, her nails scratching against the thin fabric, scraping through to my skin. “You're delusional.”

“Do I really need to tell you not to fuck with me, Pearl? I thought we'd established who I was.”

“Do you think intimidating me, standing here in my kitchen keeping me pinned between you and a fucking counter is going to make me any more agreeable to this?”

“Someone should have washed your mouth out with soap long ago.”

Pearl throws her hands up in the air before planting them on my chest and shoving me back hard. I grab her by the hand, dragging her back against my body, arms caging around her. My lips skate close to her ear as her back presses deeper into my chest. “You don't get a choice, Pearl. If you think I won't drag you down that aisle—hell, if you think I won't hold a minister at gunpoint until you marry me—you don't have the faintest idea who I am.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Work. I have my orders. I follow them. You might live your life being disobedient. I don't.”

“Your orders.” Pearl scoffs and struggles against me, but it only makes my cock stand at attention. “I can't believe this is turning you on. Let me go.”

I drop my arms around her, stepping back to give her a bit of distance to sort through whatever is going on in her head right now. It's more than some other men in my position would do, but the truth is that I don't want her to hate this marriage or me.

Is this the way I thought I was going to tame her? No. No, it's not. However, this is the way it has to be.

She glares at me, her cheeks splotchy, but she softens her tone, trying to reason. “Why should I marry you? Why are you so hell-bent on me, I’m sure you have plenty of women who would marry you willingly?” She parrots my words from moments ago.

“You are regressing back to that fake polite bullshit thing you do.” I steady my voice. “You know, I did a lot of thinking about why an educated woman like yourself works as an escort. Something about it didn't seem to line up.”

Pearl stands taller, her shoulders rolling back in, her chin jutting out like she's preparing to go to battle. “Oh yeah, and what conclusion did you come to?”

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