Page 17 of Hating the Bratva

I want to say something else to him, but I hold back. Does this mean he feels the same way about this arrangement as I do? I walk past him up the stairs and pull on my Converses from last night. I pull my hair up into a ponytail, and even though I still look ridiculous in his clothes, at least I look half-human now. I walk back down the steps, holding the side of his sweatpants so they don’t slide down my legs. Alek smirks as he watches me from the bottom of the steps.

I flip him the bird, and he lets out a laugh. He opens the door and waves me outside. The sun is still high in the sky, and it’s a little too hot for the sweatpants. I follow Alek out to his BMW and get into the passenger seat.

“Where are we going?” I ask once he pulls out of the driveway.

“To get you some clothes.”

I look down at my Alek-inspired outfit. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

His lip twitches as if he wants to smile, but he keeps it under control.

“So we’re stopping by my parents’?”

He shakes his head. “Your dad is pretty pissed off at you right now, if you can imagine that.”

Great. So not only do I not want to go home, but my dad doesn’t want me there either. Fine.

We don’t talk for the rest of the drive. I fiddle with the radio, but it’s mostly just a bunch of commercials. When we pull up to the department store, my eyes widen.

“Whoa, I don’t need a new wardrobe,” I say. Even though my family has always had the money, I never found much fun in spending hours picking out clothes like my mother. My wardrobe is pretty limited because I choose to spend my free time with friends or trying out new hobbies. Last year, I got into painting, and that took up most of my time.

“Come on. We’re already late for your appointment.”

He gets out of the car, and I follow behind me, half jogging to keep up with his long strides.

“Appointment?”

“Yes, you’re not just the daughter of a senator anymore. You play an important role in the brotherhood. You have to dress the part.”

“Um…what?”

He stops in his tracks, and my face nearly collides with his back.

He turns to face me. “Did your mom not explain any of this to you?”

“No, we don’t often talk about my doomsday.”

He takes a deep breath, as if looking for patience. “It’s an image thing. No one bothered to care about what you looked like before because you were just the daughter. Now you’re someone’s fiancée. All eyes are going to be on you. You’re the buffer between the outside world and Ivan’s criminal activity.”

I scrunch my nose up. “So, basically, I’m supposed to be a pretty face to throw off any investigation from the feds?”

He shrugs. “Basically.”

“Lovely.”

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