Page 22 of Forced Innocent Bratva Bride

“Things I do for the Bratva,” I muttered under my breath, a self-satisfied smirk lining the corner of my lips.

Chapter 8 – Lorena

Fast forward to a month later—my wedding day. As I stood before the full-length mirror, my lace gown shimmering in the soft light, I stiffened my body, steadying my heartbeat.

Tears stung my eyes, threatening to stream down my cheeks, and my lips trembled as I struggled to remain calm.

“You've got this, Lori,” I whispered to myself, my voice filled with encouragement. “Don't shed a single tear for that man. He's not worth it.”

My breathing was jagged as I fought so hard to hold back the tears in my eyes. I shot my head toward the ceiling in an attempt to push them back inside.

Tearing up now wouldn't change anything; it would only make me look weak and pathetic, not to mention the damage it would do to my makeup. It was almost time to walk down the aisle—to meet my groom at the altar.

My heart sank into my stomach at the thought of spending an eternity with the man I loathed most in the world. By now, I should’ve come to terms with my reality. I still hadn't.

Maybe I never would. Perhaps I'd figure out a way to manage this so-called “marriage,” but I knew I would spend the rest of my life in pain and misery.

My palms grew sweaty as this thought crossed my mind, goosebumps pricking my skin. The mirror reflected my pale complexion, my chest slowly rising and falling. The deafening sound of my own breathing thundered in my ears.

Marrying Alexei Tarasov would make me the devil's bride. Oh, the agony and torture I would have to endure. I'd be living in hell on Earth with no one coming to save me.

It was suddenly hot in here, and the gown's corset tightened around my waist. I felt choked up, the realizationof my predicament settling deeper into my mind and soul, crippling me from within.

I fanned my face with fluttering fingers, puffing out quick, nervous breaths. The taste of bile rose in my throat, my chest constricting as I swayed, a little light-headed from that nervousness.

I was about to give up everything—my life, my happiness, my future—all for what? The family business? Was it worth it? The family name would escape shame and disgrace while I rotted in hell. The business would flourish at the expense of my freedom, and while it grew, I would slowly disappear into the darkness until I was no more.

My dad had chosen to make me the sacrificial lamb. What a loving man—a real father of the year.

A gentle knock on the door cut through my thoughts, bringing me back to the present. I turned my head, and there he was, dressed up in a fine white tuxedo with a black bow tie around his neck.

Speak of the devil.

“You ready, sweetheart?” Dad stepped inside, eyes crinkling at the corners as he beamed.

Of course, he looked delighted. His business was safe and sound, thanks to the selflessness of his eldest daughter.

Don't you ‘sweetheart’ me, you heartless….I shut my eyes momentarily, cautioning my thoughts.

“It's time.” He extended a hand, his gaze fixed on me.

“…to give me away to a ruthless beast with a dead conscience,” I whispered, a bitter taste spreading through my mouth as my eyes dropped to the floor, my lips twitching into a silent snarl.

He exhaled sharply, swiping a palm across his face. Both hands then went to rest on his waist. “Listen, sweetheart….”

Here we go, I thought, watching as he stepped forward, closing the gap between us.

He hesitated for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I want you to know that what you're doing…it's deeply appreciated.” The slight pause came when he nodded his head. “I know this looks bad. But who knows, it just might turn fine in the end.” He shrugged.

My brows arched at his words. He was gambling with my future and didn't see anything wrong with that. Classic!

What if itdidn'tturn out fine in the end? What would be my fate? I could have asked him this question, but then we'd just start running around in circles again. It was pointless. The deal had been struck, and now, it was time for me to play my part.

“Let's just get this over with,” I said softly, clenching my jaw as I tried to mask my pain.

His lips curved into a wide grin as he extended his elbow, ignorant or simply nonchalant in the face of my agony. I beamed a plastic smile and locked my elbow in his, taking a deep breath.

Heads turned as we glided down the aisle, Dad's face beaming with pride as he strolled with confidence and an unwavering grin.

---