Page 15 of The Bratva's Plus-Size Bride

I did not doubt that the Levovs usually frequented expensive places like this one, and while it was certainly nice, I felt so disconnected from my norm. I wasn’t like them, and it was getting increasingly difficult to ignore.

Chapter 8 - Benedikt

I wanted to believe everything was going well, given how Gemma was still seated at the table, but as I glanced over at her, there was no mistaking how on edge she seemed.

In general, the family was polite and included her in conversations wherever they could, asking her the occasional, non-invasive question, but I could tell she wasn’t completely comfortable. At least, she seemed guarded.

Since I still didn’t know her all that well myself, I didn’t exactly have an emotional attachment to her yet, but I could still feel somewhat guilty about her discomfort. I did drag her here, after all. And right after our impromptu ceremony, no less.

Ever since childhood, growing up without a mother around for most of it instilled this longing in me to have a wife one day and provide that presence for my future children. Regardless of never putting much effort in to achieve that, I suppose I still knew in the back of my mind that my life would move in that direction eventually.

However, I never thought there would be quite so much emotional distance between me and my wife. I thought, at the very least, we would have something in common to tie us together—a spark that would make all the difficult things easier to deal with.

But I could only blame myself for that lack of foresight.

In an ideal world, Gemma would go along with my plans more willingly, and I wouldn’t have to force her into anything. Things would feel natural, as if she had been waiting for me all along, as I had been for her.

Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do about that anymore.

It was a shame, too. I thought she was gorgeous, especially while she sat next to me at that table under the low, ambient lights. When she did manage to smile, even if faintly, I’d catch myself wishing she’d do it again.

I wasn’t a softy—no, not at all. Yet there was still a piece of me that wished she didn’t assume I was an awful man, even if I had done something as audacious as forcing her into marrying me.

I felt written off before I could really prove myself, and while we surely still had years ahead of us, it seemed like a losing battle already.

Although, it was a strange thought. I didn’t know why I wanted to prove myself to her in the first place. I’d never really had to do that before, and it felt like a foreign concept.

Perhaps there was a part of me that wanted her approval, even if it went against the grain of my habits.

As our plates were eventually brought out, I found I'd lost my appetite as mine was placed in front of me, regardless of how hungry I had previously been. Even so, I didn’t make it obvious and got started anyway.

To my side, however, Gemma seemed even less enticed as she cut into her meat, and more pushed it around for a bit than anything.

“Gemma, what do you do for work?” Lara eventually asked, keeping the mood light whenever she addressed her.

I watched as she straightened slightly and prepared to speak. “I’m an intern at a local paper.”

My sister brightened at that slightly. “Oh, a journalist. I hear it’s a competitive field, you must be very ambitious.”

At the mention of her career, Gemma seemed to ease into the conversation a bit. “Yes, it’s a requirement to keep up with the fast-paced environment. News is short-lived.”

“That it is.”

“Ben here should take a page out of your book,” Ari commented with the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. “He doesn’t know much about ‘fast-paced’ anything.”

At his words, I scoffed and rolled my eyes. Still, the comment at least roused a small sound of amusement from Gemma along with the others, so I didn’t mind the jab being at my expense as much. It seemed like a start, anyway.

“I prefer calling it selective participation,” I mused with a shrug as I took a sip from my wine. It wasn’t my typical poison, but I wasn’t going to complain.

“That’s what you say right before passing your work onto me to absolve yourself,” Lukyan chided.

The others laughed, shaking their heads.

“He has a point, you know,” Ari confirmed, much to my dissatisfaction.

“Alright, alright, I get it,” I said, trying to shake off their teasing without seeming like a poor sport.

Lara snickered. “I just love it when Ben is in the hot seat for once.”

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