Page 24 of Hating the Bratva

Delaney

I check my reflection in the mirror one more time. Perfectly applied red lipstick coats my lips. I left the rest of my makeup pretty light to make the red pop. I’ve pulled my nearly black hair into a pretty bun at the top of my head, allowing a few pieces to fall around my face. The only reason I spent so long getting ready is to keep my mind entertained during the time between leaving school and the dreaded night ahead. I hear a honk from outside. What an asshole. Can’t he even get out of the car and knock on the door? Am I supposed to spend the rest of my life with this man? I’ve been doing my best to have a positive attitude, but now that gross sinking feeling is in my stomach again. Maybe Ivan isn’t that bad. Perhaps I’ll come to enjoy his company during this date and I can stop dreading my wedding day.

With a sigh, I walk down the steps to the foyer. Alek is still at work, and I’m glad I don’t have to face him. He knows I’m going out with Ivan tonight. Ivan is my fiancé, so I shouldn’t feel guilty. But for some reason, I do, as if going out with Ivan is somehow betraying Alek. But Alek is the one who betrayed me because, just like everyone else, he’s going along with this whole thing. No one has fought for me, not my dad, not my mom, and not even Alek. I push all my emotions down and open the door. An all black Cadillac sits in the cobblestone circle drive. Ivan’s arm rests on the window, and, unlike Alek’s, it’s not covered in tattoos. The bottom of my flats brush against the stone as I walk to the car. The door clicks as Ivan unlocks it, and I push down a groan.

Just get through dinner, Delaney, and then you can come back and vent to Robin.

I open the door and get inside. The car smells like one of those cheap pine cone air fresheners.

“Ivan,” I say, looking over at him. His jet-black hair is cut in a military style. He’s much leaner than Alek, but I can still see some muscle definition under the dark dress shirt he wears. His face is more square than the average man, almost like a rectangle. He has a bit of a scuff, which tells me he didn’t even bother shaving for our first date.

When I finally get to his eyes, they aren’t glowing green like Alek’s. They’re brown, dull, and slightly glazed over. I wonder if he’s high on something. I wouldn’t be surprised. I don’t know much about Ivan, but from what I’ve overheard and seen at events, he tends to overdo it with the alcohol. Despite that, everyone says he’s a good soldier. So basically, my future husband is a functioning alcoholic. Great.

“Delaney,” he greets, my name sounding so wrong on his tongue. His accent is more prominent than the other men.

“Ivan,” I repeat, just as coolly.

He smiles, showing off a set of straight white teeth. “You look beautiful tonight.”

I avert my eyes to the floorboard.

“Thank you,” I mutter.

“Listen.” He reaches out like he’s going to grab my hand, but I quickly pull it away. He lets out a sigh and runs a hand through his short hair before speaking again. “I know this is awkward. I don’t want you to be nervous. I just want to get to know the person I’m going to marry, and I thought you’d want to get to know me too. I know you’ve heard rumors—”

“Like how you’re only letting me stay with Alek so you can fuck other women.”

His eyebrow lifts in surprise. “Alek tells you too much.”

I don’t reply.

“Don’t you want the freedom to do what you want for the next few months before you’re someone’s wife?” he challenges.

I shrug. “Yeah, but I’m not fucking other men.”

His eyes narrow on me. “I’d hope not. That would be unfortunate for them.”

“That’s so sexist, you know. You can sleep with half of Boston, but I’m supposed to stay a virgin until marriage.”

He shifts the car into gear. “I don’t make the rules, baby. I just follow them…usually.”

He pulls out of the circle drive and down the steep hill. The trees surrounding us look eerier at this time of night.

He makes a right turn at the end of the street.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“You ask a lot of questions for a Bratva woman. We’ll have to stop that.”

“Excuse me?”

His eyes flash toward me, and he has a grin on his face. I can’t tell if he’s joking or not, but I let it go. I rest back in my seat and watch as we drive through a few neighborhoods until we get to a nice restaurant. We pull up to the curb, and the valet opens my door for me. I meet Ivan on the sidewalk. He holds out his arm, and I reluctantly take it.

The hostess greets us with a smile. Her fake boobs sit high on her chest, and her face is caked with makeup. I don’t miss the way Ivan’s eyes zero in on her breasts. Who does that?

“Ivan, long time no see,” she says, and I stop myself from rolling my eyes. This is probably the go-to place he takes women to impress them with his money before sleeping with them.

“Cara, nice to see you again,” he replies.

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