Page 3 of Arranged Marriage By the Bratva

Her mouth—oh that luscious mouth of hers—it could work wonders for my cock. Smirking, I watch her, enthralled by how intoxicated the men are with her. The snake charmers are hanging off her every word. Her dangling gold bracelet shimmers in the light of the moon as her French-manicured fingers tap the side of the champagne glass. One of them lightly touches her bare arm as they share a timed laugh together. My stomach clenches and I find myself wanting the man to keep his hands to himself.

Why the fuck should I care? I’ve no clue because I’m having such an intense reaction to the classic Italian beauty. I’m sure the stunning woman is the one Casper is referring to.

I turn back to him to confirm. “That her?”

“Yes. That’s her. Don’t be fooled by the pretty dress.”

“Right.” A smirk curves on my mouth as our whole group watches her. She’s got our attention, and she must be picking up on our stares because she’s giving us the honor of her steely glance, her ponytail swishing behind her.

She doesn’t focus on the rest of the group, though. The Italian beauty only has hostile eyes for me. Boy, I’m a lucky guy. Fuck. I need that. Not this irrelevant woman perched on my rousing cock, taking up space on my lap. She can go. No. I need the Donna. The one daring to stare me down.

Doesn’t she know who the fuck I am? I nod at Yegor. “Thinking what I am?” he snorts, the two women on our laps, confused.

“I bet you I am. I think we should introduce ourselves, but given our track record, I’m sure the pretty Donna is already familiar with the Orlovs.”

Now, it’s about to be a real fucking party.

Chapter Three

Elena

It’s the perfect sultry night for a luxury yacht party on the French Riveria, and the perfect setting for doing business with Saro and Trent. Seeing Nikkita Orlov here, however, is leaving a bitter aftertaste to the champagne in my mouth. The man raises goose bumps on my arms. What the fuck is up to anyway?

Shaken, but not stirred, I return to my conversation with the two men in front of me. Besides, Matteo is standing right next to me, so I’ve got back up. The traitorous Orlovs are not a priority right now. Rebuilding and linking with the right business partners is what I’m focused on. It’s going to be crucial to rebuilding the Mancini brand, and this meeting is a step in the right direction.

Sipping my champagne, I regard Saro with interest, doing my best to take the bullseye target off my back from Nikk, but Matteo’s not helping by bringing it up.

“Did you see?” he hisses in my ear.

Clearing my throat, I smile at Saro who, thankfully, is soaking in the party vibes of the boat.

“Yes,” I say to him out of the side of my mouth. “I can see who’s here. Don’t worry about those shady fuckers. I’m not going to be put off by them.”

“I agree, Donna. It’s okay,” Matteo replies coolly as I tune the Orlovs out, contemplating how Saro may be able to help the Mancinis get back on track. Saro is an established businessman from Cairo and has a knack for sinking his money into the right investments.

“So, Saro, I hear congratulations are in order because your last investment is proving to be quite profitable. Well done on the Capital Myers project,” I praise cordially, wanting to feed his ego just enough, but not to show too much enthusiasm so I’m taken seriously. Saro smiles broadly, raising his glass of Scotch, clinking it to mine. “I would say an extra thirty million dollars over the term of three years was a good enough project for me to sink my teeth in. And this is a good thing because I have more money to play with. That being said I’m keen to hear your thoughts on a location.”

Trent, the other potential business partner, is more well versed in the commercial real estate game and seems keen to steer me in his direction. At this point, I’m not easily swayed by either one of the men. I know the game, and I can tell from the lust in their eyes they don’t think I’m particularly worthy of being the Donna either.

“I guess that’s what we’re doing here.” I point to the sky, and the size of the boat. The luxury yacht charter could be an innovative nightclub idea. “Monaco is the home of multimillionaires and billionaires. In terms of exclusivity, it doesn’t get any more exclusive than this.”

Trent chuckles, dropping a hand in his pocket and eyeing my cleavage. Typical. “Yeah, you’re right about that. Monaco’s entry to the country is one million dollars. It’s a nice start, but I tell you what, New York or LA are where it’s at. You should come out and see what we’ve got to offer.”

Now it’s Saro’s turn to impress as he turns on the charm. “Oh no, I disagree wholeheartedly; Dubai is the new playground for the rich and famous. If it’s good enough for Beyoncé, then it’s good enough for an exclusive luxury nightclub. We can put you up in one of the best of the best resorts in Dubai.”

Trent nods, weakly attempting to counter Saro. “Oh, Dubai, is it? I thought Abu Dhabi is the new Dubai?”

I observe in mild amusement as the two men jostle to impress me. God, they are so easy. Both of them only want to bed me, and they’ll pull out all the stops to do so. I signal the waiter to take my glass, opting for a second, but I don’t plan on getting drunk. I just want enough of a buzz to get through the meeting and hear their stupid plans.

The truth is the hospitality and extended offers will expire once I reject them both, and I surely will. The heat I felt on my back has gone, and for whatever reason it makes me turn back to the yacht couches.

The Bratva men aren’t there anymore. Shit. Sighting Nikkita Orlov made me want to grit my teeth. I hate them all with a passion. New York was Mancini territory for decades and we ruled the Big Apple with an iron fist. We had our hands in illegal card gambling, casino rackets, drug trafficking, and smuggling contraband through Port Authority, but all that stopped when the Orlovs entered the picture and stole all our glory, with their arms dealership networks, bringing bloodshed and unrest. I mean it’s not as if we didn’t fight back. Mancinis are always going to do that, but we were the ones who lost the most. They literally kicked us out of our own city.

Silently seething over seeing him, the faint hint of tobacco, vodka, and leather pervades my nostrils. Red-hot body radiation doesn’t help matters either. My head swivels, my ponytail swishing onto the chest of Nikk, and his known associate Yegor.

“Hi, Saro, nice to see you again. I didn’t want to be a snob and not come over to say hello. How are you, old friend?” Nikk remarks smoothly, flashing me a dirty smile, his cold eyes boring into me.

“Saro, do you know Nikkita? It’s such a shame,” I quip, grinding down on my teeth, throwing the same dagger back at Nikk.

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