Page 9 of Forced Innocent Bratva Bride

He'd said something about the situation escalating if not properly addressed.

“Where are you?” he asked, his flat voice coming through the phone clasped to my ear.

“Uh, I'm headed out with Ravyn,” I said, struggling to swallow hard against the sudden dryness in my throat.

“I need you to come home immediately,” he added, his tone dripping with the type of urgency that inflicted me with fear. “There’s something important that I need to discuss with you.”

This can't be good.

The call ended, and I was overwhelmed with anxiety, my chest rising and falling as I tried to maintain composure. My mind was racing with different scenarios playing in my head as I wondered what was happening.

My dad wasn't one to panic, and now that he was—even though he tried to hide it—it meant that whatever was going on was worse than I thought.

“Ravyn, turn the car around,” I said, looking at her, my heart pounding in my chest. “Take me home.”

“Everything alright?” Her eyes squinted, worry and curiosity etched on her gaze.

I hesitated for a moment, trying to collect my thoughts, but my anxiety threatened to consume me. “I hope so,” came my reply, my voice barely above a whisper.

Chapter 3 – Alexei

He sat reclined in his chair, fingers drumming against the mahogany table as I stepped into his office. The air was filled with the sweet aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the rich scent of his cologne.

“PakhanArtem,” I greeted, my tone laced with reverence, head slightly bowing in respect.

“Alexei, cousin,” he replied, his lips curving into a welcoming smile. “Come. Sit.” He gestured at the armchair across his desk.

AsPakhan, Artem was a ruthless man who smiled less, most often with a signature scowl on his face, a scowl so intimidating it could make his enemies pee their freaking pants. However, he wasn't like that around members of the Tarasov family—he was a little more jovial, especially around me.

Of all the Tarasov brothers,PakhanArtem was closer to me, and that was a great honor. I'd learned a million things from this wise man; his leadership skills were worth emulation.

I admired him particularly because he could strike a perfect balance between his private life and business. Since I knew him, he'd never mixed the two. He was a loving husband and caring father but also a ruthless strategist who never compromised his standards at work.

Artem's love story was an inspiring one—the way he found peace and love in his wife, Sierra, was so random, but in the end, it turned out just fine. As remarkable as that was, I didn't think I was ready for a long-term commitment. At least not yet, anyway.

My cousin, Afanasy, had said the same thing some time ago, same as his brother, Roman. Now, both men were happilymarried—a concept that seemed almost impossible, considering the type of life we lived.

I pulled the chair back, adjusting my suit as I took a seat. “You asked to see me?” I said, reclining into the chair.

“I did,” he replied, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled, rising to his feet. “But first, how are you?”

“Well.” I tilted my head to the side, a soft scoff escaping my lips as I recalled the activities of the week in a split second. “I've been…living life, I guess.” The slight pause came when I jerked my eyes, watching him walk over to a polished wooden cabinet behind his desk.

“That's good to know, cousin,” he said, his deep voice smooth as silk. “Life is too short. Enjoy it while you still can.”

“Yeah, and it helps that I'm still single,” I teased, lips curling into a mischievous grin.

“Ah! The eternal bachelor.” He laughed, opening the cabinet to reveal an array of fine liquor bottles. “How many hearts have you broken this month alone?”

I chuckled, scratching the back of my head. “None, actually.”

He shot a quick glance at me, eyes squinting ever so slightly. “Why do I find that hard to believe? Scotch or vodka?” He revealed the two bottles, his gaze meeting mine.

“Scotch, please,” I replied. “And I'm telling the truth; it's been all about work the past few months.”

PakhanArtem returned the bottle of vodka, withdrew two crystal glasses, closed the cabinet, and then waltzed back to his desk. “Maybe that's a sign that you're ready to settle down,” he teased, pouring generous amounts into the two glasses before handing me one with a mysterious glint in his eyes.

My brows furrowed, and I dispelled the thought that there was a secret message behind his words. “Thank you.” I accepted the glass.

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