Page 29 of Forced By the Bratva Beast

Jazz music plays softly as I skim my eyes over the dolled crowd, looking for my cousin Dimitri. His dealings with the New York arm of the Bratva is why we’re here. A tall guy with dirty blond hair, ice blue eyes, and deception written in his soul, greets us both with a warm hug.

“Greetings, bitches!” He laughs as I pretend to punch him in the stomach. He flinches. It’s always a good time when we get together.

“Dimitri. Thanks for the invite. This shit looks every way of fucked and fancy,” I remark dryly, admiring the legs of a young blonde attached to a distinguished older gentleman. She’s likely a model and probably fucking him for his money. I never miss when I read people.

“Yeah, it is, but necessary,” he adds. “I have the master plan as normal,” he replies steadily.

“Of course you do, friend. Lead the way,” Makar replies as we walk up the red carpeted steps, to a man and lady ticking off the guest list register.

“Good evening, and welcome to the Phantom Charity Gala event. Names and tickets, please?” Dimitri whips out the tickets smiling flirtatiously at the woman and reciting our names.

Once we’re through the doors, the place opens out to a massive ballroom with a huge chandelier in the middle of it. Round tables are set up around half of the ballroom, and the other half is divided into a dance floor and a bar area. The jazz is louder, and the place is dripping in jewels and high-society bullshit.

What the fuck? I’ve seen enough of these events to last me three lifetimes, but this is where a lot of good business can get done if you’re slick enough. Where else are we going to meet these high-ranking con artists other than a gala event?

Dimitri’s lips pulls together, emitting a low whistle as a brunette walks past with a thigh-high split and an equally snooty attitude. “I bet she could squeeze my head off with those killer thighs.”

“You think so?” Makar indulges as waiters and waitresses arrive with champagne. I gladly take a flute from the tray, desperate to take the edge off, hoping that an attractive female will catch my eye and take my obsession away from Sophia.

“Yeah, I think so and sure as hell would bang the mayor’s wife. I’ve heard things about her,” Dimitri grinds out between his teeth as we chuckle together. “Chicago pussy doing well, you two?”

Makar grins, slapping Dimitri’s back with a generous nod. “Yes, I’m good, but your cousin has found himself a new little redheaded obsession. You know how he is.”

“She’s not my obsession,” I retort with a little too much conviction, the grains of truth sinking through. I hate that Makar has brought her up. I’m hell-bent on forgetting her, but she rejected me, and the sting on my ego still has a ripple effect.

“Oh, she is, and she’s taken a little trip. She’s not in Chicago this weekend,” Makar discloses casually.

A surge of fire burns inside at the news. “Where did she go?” I ask, gulping down my champagne and taking another as Dimitri looks on in amusement.

“I didn’t find out the details,” Makar replies, lifting a glass of red from the next tray, and pointing it to the left. “But it looks like the details are taking care of themselves.”

I follow his glass, and behind it is a sophisticated Sophia in a slinky floor-length bright red dress. Her ginger hair is bone straight, her face flawless, but her emerald eyes house a bewildered vulnerability that draws out my protective nature.

“Cousin! That’s a nice little obsession to have,” Dimitri chimes in, my jealousy rearing to the surface as I see the sleazeball she’s with. I see his eyes shiftily taking in Sophia’s tight ass as he sips his wine, and she asks him a question. His hand deviates to the small of her bare back.

“What the fuck is that guy doing with her?” I mutter under my breath, Makar catching on.

“Who is he?” Makar asks.

“He’s some guy from the law school,” I say, checking out their dynamic. She must be really into this guy if she came allthe way to New York with him. Is she fucking sleeping with this schmuck?

“What’s she doing here with him?” Makar asks out loud, and I’m ready to find out.

“No idea. Come on, let’s find our table, and I’ll deal with her later.” I keep an eye on her, waiting for the chance to pounce even amongst the few introductions that are presented to me. I could care less about them. I want to get to Sophia, so when I see a break I take it. “Excuse me.”

Leaving the men, I weave between the tables to the far side of the ballroom, where Sophia is left alone, looking lost. I approach her with a smirk on my face, but hers is pale with shock.

“What are you doing here?” she spits out as I raise my glass to her.

“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” Up close she’s even more brilliant, the shimmer from her smoky eye makeup highlighting her beauty even more. Her pearl lipstick accentuates her kissable lips, and if there wasn’t such animosity between us, I would have greeted her with a kiss.

“You are not an old friend. What the hell are you doing here?” she asks again as I shake my head.

“See, that’s not the right thing to say to me. You should say good evening, Andrei, it’s nice to see you again.”

“How did you get out so fast?” she asks, attempting to scorch me, a livid shade of green rippling in her eyes.

“I’m innocent, and therefore I was able to walk. The evidence against me was lacking,” I confirm with a wink thatinforms her I’m a dangerous man. She shifts her body away from me, staring into the crowd of people spilling into the ballroom.

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