Page 7 of The Bratva's Forced Innocent Bride

He’d finally admitted the real reason he’d rushed me away from Katie’s place, and when I woke up, I didn’t want him to call and see if it was safe to go back yet, desperate to keep the most exciting day of my life going as long as possible.

Max swore he wasn’t bored when I took my impromptu nap, and I believed him when he said he was having a great time, too. Or, I wanted to believe someone like Max could be having a great time with someone like me. He was so handsome, so over the top, and larger than life. I was like a little burr that got stuck to him and was clinging on for dear life to keep experiencing everything he had to offer.

I kept teasing him about his diner that he was so obviously proud of, thinking it was going to be a typical 1950s style burger joint that showed up in so many movie scenes. Sure, he had a right to be proud of owning any kind of successful business, but his cockiness about the Hollywood Hustle Grill was just like everything else about him—over the top.

Which is why I was so stunned when we drove past it. The large, low building took up almost an entire city block, with bright aqua and pink neon signs decorating the pristine white stucco. Palm trees swathed in fairy lights lined the sidewalk, along with a glamorous red carpet packed with people waiting their turn to get in. The valet line was just as packed, with cars snaking around the corner.

I sensed his eyes on me, and I slowly closed my mouth, which dropped open in surprise at how amazing the place looked just from the outside. Turning, I saw his face was quietly smug, as if he tried to hide how proud he was now that I was actually seeing it.

“Okay, it’s pretty cool,” I said, pleased at his grunt of dissatisfaction.

“Just wait until we’re inside,” he said. “I’ll get a compliment out of you yet.”

We slowly rolled past the long line of people who were eager to get in, and I noticed they were all dressed like they were going to a movie premiere. Or at least a fancy nightclub, not a diner. I looked down at my own simple summer sweater and jeans, a bit worse for wear after sleeping on the beach. Sand still clung to my sneakers, which were dingy despite all the buffing and scrubbing I did to keep them looking clean. Max noticed my gaze dropping.

“You look fine,” he said. “Look at me.”

I had been, all day. While he also wore jeans and a t-shirt, he somehow still looked like he belonged with all those glittering people, with his expensive watch and limited-edition sneakers. Not to mention the fact he was the owner and could have shown up in his bathrobe and been given a king’s welcome.

For the first time, I felt my heart sinking. This definitely wasn’t going to be the end of a perfect day. It was silly and a bit vain, but I enjoyed fashion and tried to be as stylish as I could on a non-existent clothing budget. I knew how to mend and alter clothes so I could buy second-hand, and had learned all the cleaning tips that existed to get out stains to make my things last as long as I could.

Going to a Hollywood hotspot with the actual owner of said hotspot would be tainted by looking like a person who literally slept on the beach. All eyes would be on Max, and, therefore, on me.

I tilted my chin, refusing to be so childish, and forced a smile that surely didn’t fool him a bit. But instead of making a fuss, he rolled right down the street and pulled up in front of a posh boutique. He rushed around before the valet got to us and opened my door for me, sweeping toward the shop entrance.

“Come on, have at it,” he said, leading me in.

It was about a thousand times more upscale than where I worked, and I could barely afford anything there, even with employee discounts and sales.

“Oh, no, I can’t,” I stammered. I really, really couldn’t. One pair of socks from that place would have cleared my savings account.

“You’re going to,” Max said smoothly and with such force that I shivered.

He had such an aura about him that I would have loved to see the person who dared to deny him anything. Well, that person was going to have to be me.

“No, I mean, I really can’t—”

“I supply catering for the owner,” he interrupted. “She’ll be delighted to hook you up with whatever you want for tonight.”

And indeed, the owner herself came swanning out from the back room, her world-famous smile almost blinding me and making my jaw drop once again. Oriana Alonso was a retired supermodel on every magazine cover in my middle school days and was still a wildly popular style influencer on social media.

Coming around the glass display counter that was laden with jewelry, she hugged Max for a bit longer than was strictly necessary. “Darling, what a wonderful surprise,” she oozed in her elegant accent. Looking me up and down, she nodded briskly. “I have the perfect thing. Many perfect things. Come along.”

I followed in her wake as she plucked things from the racks and showed me to a dressing room. While I tried on the beautiful clothes, I strained to listen to them carrying on in the front of the shop. The sound of her laughter was grating as I imagined her putting her perfectly manicured hand on his arm, and the sound of his laughter made my heart squeeze. Did they have something going on between them?

Why did I care, and why did it make me feel a bit off just to speculate?

I came out in the first outfit, which was my favorite. Despite feeling slightly touchy about Oriana, she picked exactly what would look good on me. I stepped out in the slim-fitting, midnight blue dress that seemed to pick up the faint natural reddish highlights in my hair and made my eyes much more blue than gray.

Max’s eyes widened as he swept me up and down and his wolfish grin had me starting to heat up in the thin, silky fabric.

“You look amazing,” he said, gaze still traveling up and down my body. “Perfection.”

“Oh, not yet,” Oriana said, holding out a pair of spindly, strappy, high-heeled sandals. They were supple leather and really did seem like they were made to go with the dress. “Now she’s perfect. Unless you want jewelry, too?”

She looked at Max expectantly, rubbing her hand up his arm.She’s just trying to pad the sale; there’s nothing going on with them.

Again, why did I care? But of course, Max was all in on the jewelry idea, and like I was trapped in the whirlwind they both created, I was soon decked out in a thin gold necklace with a star charm, and an arm of delicate bangles that were studded with small, sparkling stones.

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