Page 56 of Unwilling Bratva Bride

“Shit!” The woman cried out.

Her date, likely another mafioso, pulled her to the side and began helping her clean up the mess of makeup and pills that had spilled all over the ground. Not that he looked happy about it.

Seamlessly, Ivan nudged me along and slid his way into their spot without anyone noticing, too distracted by the commotion he’d caused.

When Ivan looked over, I nodded with my brows up. “Smooth.”

“Thank you.”

After that, I could see Ivan concentrating on what Donovan was saying in front of us.

“Who’s the dunce?” Donovan’s voice was quiet, and I could just make out his words and thick Irish accent around the noise.

The teller glanced down at him, cocking a brow. “Sir, I’m afraid I don’t—”

“Yeah, you do. It’s Tommy. I called and spoke to Saul. So, who’s the dunce?”

With his eyes wide, the man behind the counter slowly nodded, looking down at something beneath his main book.

“I believe Rodrigo is the dunce tonight.”

“Twenty grand on Rodrigo it is. Pleasure doing business with you.”

Donovan offered up a card similar to Ivan’s, and when the teller was through running it, he handed it back, and Donovan left the counter.

“Well,” I whispered to Ivan, “did that help us?”

He grinned—wide and genuine. “It did. Come on.”

Ivan pulled me up to the counter with him, going up to the same teller. “Hello there. Saul instructed me that Rodrigo is the dunce, yeah?”

The teller nodded.

Leaning in closer, Ivan whispered, “How much to get the guy an education?”

For a moment, I was sure that the teller was going to kick us out or something. He glared down at Ivan hard for several long seconds. But when Ivan didn’t flinch, the guy nodded.

“Education is expensive, but,” he glanced down at that paper beneath his books again, “looks like Rodrigo hasn’t been to class yet tonight. A lesson can be arranged, but I must remind you that this is done separately by the proprietor, and any and all altercations that arise as a result will be your responsibility. My associates and I will not be held liable.”

Ivan nodded once. “Understood.”

“Ten thousand,” the teller replied, and aside from the fact that I didn’t know what the fuck they were talking about, I knew that was a lot of money to pay.

“Done.” Ivan presented his card. “And put another twenty down on Morozova.”

The teller smiled. “Of course, sir.”

After a moment, the teller gave Ivan his card back, and Ivan held out his arm for me to follow him.

“Pleasure working with you,” Ivan glanced at the man’s name tag, “James.”

“And you, sir.”

As we left the counter, Ivan headed in the same direction as Donovan, keeping a close tail on him, which made me hustle in my ridiculous dress.

“Now what?” I whispered.

“Now, we watch.”

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