Page 4 of Forced Bratva Hostage

Behind the counter, I stood surrounded by the familiar interior and the scent of aged paper.

With a courteous smile playing on my lips, my gaze roamed across the space, taking in the cozy reading nooks, comfortable armchairs, and meticulously placed floor lamps.

Before me, the store unfolded like a treasure trove, rows of shelves towering toward the high ceilings like sentinels. Chandelier lights and table lamps cast their soft glows, enveloping the space and creating a warm, inviting atmosphere.

The plush rugs that carpeted the floor quieted the footsteps of browsing customers as they glided through the aisles, checking out our collection.

The tiny bells above the door jingled as it swung open, and she waltzed in, her bright green eyes scanning the space before settling on me.

Her lips curled into a charming smile as she approached me, her shoes soundless against the rug. Her backpack was slung over her left shoulder, her long, wavy brown hair cascading down her back as her porcelain skin simmered in the lights.

Lorena Campbell: a twenty-year-old student slash part-time model who also happened to be a regular here at the 312 Bookstore. Our passion for books was one thing we had in common; another was the fact that we were both petite.

Lorena was like the sister I’d never had, and from the minute we met a few months ago, we clicked on so many levels. She was a kind, loving, and caring human being, not to mention fun to hang around.

I rested my hands on the counter, fingers drumming against the polished surface as she halted in front of me.

“Hey, Wren!” She flung her backpack onto the countertop.

“Hey, Lori, how's it going?” I asked, watching her unzip her backpack to withdraw a book.

She let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, you know how it is, balancing school and work—shit can be exhausting, and it's kicking my ass.” She jerked her head to face me, her voice laced with exhaustion.

I laughed lightly, rubbing my eyes. “Yeah, I totally get how you feel.” My gaze settled on the book in her hand. “What've you got there?”

She held up a worn paperback. “Can I get a recommendation forPride & Prejudice? A modern retelling, of course. I'm craving some Austen.” Her brows wiggled, eyes sparkling with excitement.

My face lit up. “Well, you're in luck ‘cause I just finishedThe Lizzie Bennet Diaries.” I tilted my head to the side as if thinking for a moment. “It’s a bit of a chunkster, but it was worth it. Trust me, you'll love it.”

“I don't doubt that.” She chuckled, her eyes shining with excitement.

As I rang up her purchase, she leaned forward and cleared her throat, her gaze lingering on me. “I hope you don't mind me asking, but, uh, what do you do outside of books?”

“Huh?” My brows arched at her question as I paused for a moment, watching her.

“I mean, like, what's it like for you when you're not…you know, selling books?” she rephrased, her tone dripping with curiosity, eyes flashing at me.

“Why do you ask, Lori?” A low, throaty laugh rumbled from my chest as I shot a quick look at her.

“I don't know…I guess I just haven't seen you outside of the store before,” she replied, her eyes never leaving mine.

A quiet amusement trickled into my voice. “What’s outside of books is what most people would call boring,” I replied, my eyes crinkling at the corners. “But I like it like that.”

“Any love interest?” she asked, narrowing her brows with a slightly cocked head.

“Sadly, no,” I replied, stealing a glance at her.

“Shut the front door!” Her eyes widened in a mix of shock and disbelief.

“What?” A soft chuckle escaped my lips, brows rising at her reaction.

She pushed her hair back, eyes squinting. “Wait, you're serious?”

I paused for a moment, wearing a stern expression.

“Okay, help me understand how it’s possible that a pretty woman such as yourself is single in this day and age,” Lorena said, resting her arm on the countertop.

I chuckled, shaking my head as my hands went back to work. “You say it like it's a bad thing to be single.”

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