Page 13 of The Bratva King's Kidnapped Bride

If he’d been serious, then what? It wasn’t like I could blithely accept being his mistress. As I dressed in more appropriate clothes to head to my favorite fresh market for my lunch box ingredients, I forced myself not to notice the clothes were years old. Pretended my car wasn’t held together with hopes and prayers as I headed out to start a long day of work, capped by another night at the restaurant where I’d be heaped with abuse for half my old salary.

It would be so wonderful to live with Aleks. Even if he couldn’t make all my dreams come true like he’d offered, having someone to come home to after one of my grueling days would be nice. My mind was so full of him that I almost missed out on a great deal on wild salmon, and could barely concentrate on ideas for what to make with it that day.

After I bought the lunch ingredients, I headed back home to ruthlessly clean the already nearly spotless kitchen. The chore was something I normally did right before bed as part of my nighttime routine. My sister made fun of the calming ritual, but Jenna didn’t understand how hard I’d worked to get the commercial food prep license in order to start the lunch box business.

If only I could scrape enough to make upgrades to the appliances in the tiny house that Aunt Marjorie helped us move into after our parents died.

Thinking about Aunt Marjorie made me check my phone. I hadn’t heard from her in a week and didn’t count her brief answers to my messages. We usually talked extensively three or four times a week, but she’d been putting me off with claims of being swamped. She had a busy life in Florida, heading several charitable committees, hosting her book club, and still working full-time as a secretary so she could help us out as much as she could, but that had never kept her from our long conversations.

Aunt Marjorie was my biggest cheerleader, offering to mortgage her house to fund my catering business. Of course, I wouldn’t let her, because she’d already done so much for Jenna and me. She’d been estranged from our father and her younger brother for years, and she only knew us from the phone and video calls my mom insisted on every holiday to try to mend the rift between them. Aunt Marjorie was always sunny to us, never missed a birthday, but refused to reunite with my dad. As much as I liked her back then, I thought she was stubborn and unforgiving and couldn’t fully warm to her.

Once everything came out after my parents’ deaths, I completely understood. She knew my father’s hidden nature and wanted nothing to do with it. After their accident, we were left with nothing. Less than nothing because my father’s crimes were soon revealed, ruining even our memories of him.

He’d been embezzling from his investment firm and running a scam fund that had leached money from dozens of clients. He owed millions, and we lost the house in the hills, the beach house in Mexico, the cars and drivers, and our places at St. Ambrose Academy. We had to finish high school in the rough public school system, which we were ill-equipped for after growing up so pampered. Jenna was a top student, but her grades suffered due to bullying.

If it hadn’t been for Aunt Marjorie giving us pep talks every night and keeping us strong when we wanted to crumble, Jenna would never be thriving in college, and I’d never be… well, my screw-ups were my own, and I was still very grateful to have had the chance to try out my catering business dream.

Aunt Marjorie’s generous nature and the way she instantly put her life on hold for two years to come to LA made me see that she was true family all along. If it wasn’t for her, Jenna and I might have been separated and put in foster care, or worse, ended up on the streets.

“And I still have you guys,” I said, speaking to the wild salmon. As much as it stung that the catering business went nowhere fast, I was proud of my lunch box venture. As long as I got to create meals, I was reasonably happy.

It would have been nice not to have to constantly worry about money, though.

Since the time difference between California and Florida made it not too early to call her, I pressed Aunt Marjorie’s contact on my phone. It went to voicemail, and instead of leaving a message, I texted her how badly I wanted to catch up. She’d certainly call sometime today, and I’d be sure to take the time to answer, no matter what. Family was important to me, and helped me remember why I worked so hard.

As I grilled up the fish and put together individual quinoa and baby spinach salads, Aleks’s voice rang out in my memory, almost as strong as if he was really there in my little kitchen with me.

Marry me. Have my child.

What the actual heck was that about? And why did it make me tingle all the way to my toes? If only I couldn’t still feel his hands on me, remember every second of how he brought me to such heights. I actually screamed, for goodness’ sake. And didn’t care if anyone heard me. I’d gone so long without any romance of any kind in my life I mostly gave up imagining what losing my virginity would be like. I supposed it would be something I’d want to quickly forget, clumsy, awkward, and mildly painful, like the stories most of my friends told me when they lost theirs, way back in high school or college.

But Aleks made it a night I never wanted to forget. It would be impossible to try.

Should I have stayed and said yes to that crazy proposal? See how fast he caved on his little joke? It had to be a joke, right?

I sighed, putting my custom-made sticker on the last crisp white cardboard lunch box, and loaded them into the thermal carriers I hauled up and down the high-end business district. I never could have called his bluff.

I never did crazy things. The one-night stand was so far out of my comfort zone I’d be reeling from it for weeks. Hmph. The last crazy thing I tried was quitting a good job to start my own catering business because I got lucky with one big party. Look how that fizzled out.

No, it was better this way, even though sneaking out on Aleks while he slept didn’t feel right, either. It was better to keep the glowing memory of losing my virginity with such an amazing man, well worthy of my longtime childhood crush. It could never be anything more than that since his daughter and I were once so close.

Even though Nataliye and I had drifted apart somewhat, I still considered her my best friend. We still messaged each other regularly, and I saw her whenever we could. It was just that I was always working day and night trying to make ends meet, and Nat was off living her own life. A much different one than mine, that was for sure.

It was a life I thought I was done pining for, but being with Aleks awakened something in me I thought wasn’t just sleeping, but dead and buried. What if I’d accepted his offer?

It didn’t matter, though, did it? I was much too busy to think about it, and as I loaded up my meals and got out into the warzone of LA traffic, it all drifted further from my mind.

But not far enough. Not nearly far enough.

Chapter 8 - Aleksandr

A final shot rang out. One of my men, I was sure. The few guys who’d stayed to fight us that were still on their feet took off like rats fleeing a sinking ship. I had my foot on the back of someone, a beefy fellow with long, stringy hair and reeking of beer that the young and terrified barmaid had smashed over his head when he tried to haul her over the bar.

Thinking about him or any of this rough gang of hooligans hurting any of my employees, made me give him a brisk kick to the ribs, even though he was already down. Nobody hurt my people. Nobody even tried.

Maxim, my younger brother by four years, appeared from the back of the neighborhood bar that our family had owned since before I was born, back when my father and uncle ruled these streets. Our father had gone back to Moscow after his only brother had been killed, leaving it all to me. I’d been running things ever since I was in my early twenties, and these skirmishes never ceased to annoy me.

“Got this one as he was limping out the back,” Max said, running a bloody hand through his hair, which was dark like mine.

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