Page 26 of Forced Bratva Prisoner

The asshole walks into the room holding a bundle of clothing.

He glances around and notices the broken picture frame on the floor, the photo is laying upright with the glass smashed around it. A group of people. Two parents, two kids—and the pillow lying next to it.

“Are you feeling a bit better after your tantrum?” he asks sarcastically.

“Go to hell,” I snap.

“I’ve been. It’s not that great. Took me a long time to find my way back.”

I scrunch my nose, glaring at him and wondering what the hell he is talking about.

He walks closer and tosses the clothes he is carrying onto the bed.

“Get dressed. We have some guests who would like to meet you.”

“I’m not interested in meeting your mobster friends.” I kick the clothes off the bed, and they land quietly on the floor.

“Look. You are coming downstairs to meet them whether you want to or not. You can come kicking and screaming in a wedding dress, or you can throw on those jeans, be more comfortable, and walk down the stairs in complete control of your own two feet.”

I hate him and his logical reasoning.

I bite my lip, squinting hard at him, trying to shoot laser beams of anger into his skull. It doesn’t work, so I sigh and lean over the bed to grab the clothes.

“Some privacy, then?” I huff.

He turns around.

“No, I mean get out so I can change.”

“Not happening,” he says without looking back at me.

“Why are you such an asshole?” I complain loudly.

“Sweet girl, you haven’t seen anything yet.” He chuckles.

I roll my eyes. He doesn’t know what I’ve been through. It’ll take a lot to top what my father has done to me over the years.

In horror, I realize that I can’t unzip the back of the wedding dress without help.

“Um. Whatever your name is. Can you help me?”

He turns around to glare at me. “We just got married. You still don’t know my name?”

“Can’t say I was paying enough attention.”

He snorts and walks over to me, very roughly grabbing my waist and pulling the zipper down. I gasp and grab the dress just before it falls off my shoulders.

His eyes graze up and down my naked back and I throw him another glare.

“You can turn around again.”

I get dressed as quickly as I can once I step out of the wedding dress, pulling my legs over my jeans as I hop across the room, trying to hurry while still keeping my balance.

I grab the t-shirt and throw it over my head, then turn around to look at the asshole and see he has been watching me in a mirror this entire time.

“What the hell?” I say angrily. “Did you enjoy the show?”

“I did, actually. Are you ready?”

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