Page 6 of The Bratva's Plus-Size Bride

As if looking into the depths of my soul, Ben took me in completely and chuckled to himself. “Need I remind you that you’re in my territory, Gemma? Everyone here works for my family, and even if you scream or yell, nobody will bat an eye.” His smug look deepened at the catch of my breath. “Our influence encompasses many areas and facets, as you seemed to guess in your little article, which means nobody will notice if you disappear. Not even keen journalists like yourself. Your very existence would fade, and for what? The recognition of your name printed neatly beside this story?”

Whether he genuinely meant to offend, or if he was simply having fun playing with me, I narrowed my eyes at him, anger flaring beneath my skin for a moment. “Mock me and be as condescending as you want, but it’s easy coming from someone who has everything. You’re taking advantage of my good faith and willingness to seek your side of the story.”

Ben’s eyes zeroed in on me with a gleam of interest and amusement. “Your good faith landed you in this position in the first place. Don’t place all the blame on me when you were the one who waltzed in here, assuming you could publish a hit piece about my family. You came of your own accord.”

He was right, but even then, I didn’t want to admit it.

I was an idiot for even putting my neck out. That regret was bigger than anything else.

As Ben measured my obvious faltering beneath him, he looked between my eyes and my lips with an irritating smugness. He slipped the side of his finger beneath my chin and forced me to look at him directly.

“That being said,” he murmured, voice sounding like silk through his faint hum. “You can either cooperate and willingly walk out of here with me, or I’ll just take you by force. Your choice, Gemma.”

While my name on his tongue sent a strange shiver down my spine, finding a sense of satisfaction from it despite the circumstances, I couldn’t shake the fear as it gripped me like a vice.

I wanted to think I was strong enough to fight and refuse him, but as he exuded pure confidence and pinned me there like a helpless thing, I had the feeling he wasn’t bluffing.

Given the pieces I managed to collect of his family’s past, I had no doubt he was capable of horrible, unthinkable things. And if that was the case, I didn’t have any reason to believe he wouldn’t forcibly take me away without another word.

Despite the fear and panic in my mind, there was no denying how his effortless allure tugged at my heartstrings while he searched for any point of weakness. I swallowed hard and braced myself against the inevitable.

He was a Levov, and what the Levovs wanted, they got. That much was clear to me.

Chapter 4 - Benedikt

In the blink of an eye, my subpar night shifted like the tide, and my disappointment was quickly replaced by intrigue and a deep sense of satisfaction.

Even if the situation with the article had been less than ideal, I ran with the punches and took advantage of it. I adapted as Ari always taught me to, and I managed to find myself a prospective wife.

It was spontaneous and perhaps jumping the gun, but by marrying her, I was ensuring her loyalty. If she were to become a Levov, our best interest would become hers as well. She wouldn’t dare risk outing our empire’s secrets or swaying the public’s opinion out of fear of suffering herself.

It sounded like a solid plan to me, at least.

By making her my wife, my ambition would come to fruition, and she would have no choice but to settle into her new role, all while maintaining that allegiance to the Levov name.

The outcome wasn’t what I had in mind earlier that evening, but in any case, it was a win for me, nonetheless.

Gemma had chosen the smartest route and willingly left the club with me. Rather than pushing back, she went along with it, albeit reluctantly, with a scared gleam in her eyes.

It wasn’t exactly how I imagined my future wife accepting my proposal, but the details didn’t matter. I only cared about ensuring that the article didn’t get out and securing her loyalty.

That wasn’t the best grounds for marriage—even I could see that. But that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be anything between us in the future. Time cures all, as they say.

The drive from the club to the house was silent, save for the absent tapping of my fingers against the wheel. Despite offering her the passenger seat, Gemma refused and sat in the back. I scoffed, feeling more like a chauffeur than an engaged man, but didn’t press the matter.

I could already see the fear, regret, and anger brewing on her face as she sat there, and there was no point in making it worse. It might not have been traditional in any sense, but that didn’t mean I was trying to be a bad guy. In fact, I was hoping to make her comfortable. So long as she didn’t want to take the offer, I wasn’t going to force her beyond what was necessary.

Given how quiet she had been for most of the ride, I assumed that would continue as I pulled up to the garage. After climbing out, I went to her side like a gentleman, only to find her spaced out and staring straight ahead.

“Is there something interesting on the wall?” I asked, looking at her expectantly. “Something I’m not seeing?”

The faintest, almost imperceptible shift of her expression showed her unamused look, only allowing me to see a flicker of it before going blank again.

It seemed she was going to be difficult, but of course, that was to be expected. I was forcing her hand, after all.

I sighed and leaned in, face close to hers as I reached over to unbuckle her seatbelt. Despite the proximity, she didn’t meet my gaze. The slightest hitch in her breath was the only indication that my closeness had any effect on her.

A smug smile crossed my lips as I remained there, closely studying her features and thankful for my good judgment. It added a spark of excitement to the whole thing. She was beautiful, even out of the club.

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