Page 2 of Forced Innocent Bratva Bride

“You ask too many questions. Let's go—chop, chop.” She took my hand and helped me down the stairs. “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you look?” Her eyes roamed my petite frame, admiration flickering in their depths. “My God, look at the shape!” she exclaimed softly, whistling.

“Okay, stop.” I bowed my head, embarrassed, my cheeks flushing at her remark.

“If you knew how much you rock, you wouldn't be hiding up here. You'd be all over the place, flaunting your beauty,” she added, her face lighting up with a charming smile that infused me with an unexpected dose of confidence.

“Flattery will get you anywhere, Ravyn.” I chuckled, feeling my anxiety and tension slowly dissipating.

“I know.” Her carved brows danced above her eyes, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. “Now, come on. Let's go enjoy the party.” She grabbed my wrist and pulled me along with her.

As we weaved through the crowd, a few heads turned, their gazes lingering over us. I wasn't sure why; was it because we looked good and attractive or because they realized we were minors? Whatever the case, I wasn't comfortable with the way those men stared at us.

My eyes dropped to the floor, my heart pounding in my chest as I struggled to exude the same level of confidence as Ravyn, but I just couldn't.

Her movements were graceful—elegant—and even her smile seemed genuine as opposed to mine, plastic and nervous.

“Relax, Lori,” she whispered, gently squeezing my fingers. “It's a party. Enjoy it. Everything's gonna be fine.” She stole a glance at me. “You just have to loosen up and live a little.”

Creases formed between my brows. “Easy for you to say. You're the life of the party, not me,” I said, flashing forced smiles at onlookers.

“You're right; I am, and the good news is, I'm here to guide you.” She glanced in my direction, her smile growing. “Just do as I say, and you'll be fine. I promise.”

Ravyn changed course, gliding toward the mini bar at a corner like a pageant queen on a catwalk.

“Uh, where—where are we going?” I asked, following up by her side. I hoped she wasn't about to do what I thought she was about to do.

A smirk lined her lips. “To get a drink.”

“Like hell we are.” I grabbed her hand, prompting her to stop in her tracks. A faint frown settled on my face as I spun her around to look at me. “Are you out of your mind?” I spoke in a hush, squeezing out a plastic smile as a few people walked past us, staring.

Ravyn paused, wearing a fake grin. “Nothing to see here, folks.” She shifted her gaze back to me after they left. “You're embarrassing us in front of these people, Lori,” she spoke through gritted teeth, her eyes darting across the space.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” I said, my tone laced with sarcasm. “How thoughtless of me. I'll try to be more inconspicuous next time.”

“Chill out, Lori.”

“Chill out?” I leaned forward, furrowing my brows. “I'm not 21 yet—and you're not even 18.”

“Okay, thanks for the reminder,” she whispered, returning my earlier sarcasm. “But one, nobody knows that, and two, it's just champagne, Lori.” She placed a palm on my shoulder, holding my gaze. “It's practically juice.”

I went silent for a moment, feeling my resolve melt under her persuasive smile.

“Look, have I ever led you down the wrong path before?” she asked, trying to make a point, but she ended up shooting herself in the leg.

I could think of more than a few times she'd done that, but I just tilted my head, arching my brows in disbelief.

“Alright, don't answer that,” she added immediately, letting out a soft sigh as she took my hand. “Come on, it's just one drink, okay? It won't kill you, I promise. Pretty please?”Her voice was dripping with honey, sweet and soothing, and she batted her eyelashes.

I groaned inwardly, hating my inability to resist her persistence. If I didn't give in, she wouldn't stop, and I didn't have the strength or the fortitude to argue with her.

I rolled my eyes. “Fine.”

“Yes!” Her eyes sparked with triumph, and I instantly regretted my decision.

“But just one drink,” I emphasized, my tone cautious.

“One drink, I promise,” she replied, crossing her heart, although the mischievous grin on her face said otherwise.

We headed toward the sleek bar, each grabbing a stool.

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