Page 11 of The Bratva's Sold Bride

Wait, what?

“Whose wedded bliss?” I asked, feeling cold start to seep up from the soles of my feet and overtake my entire body. “Who’s getting married?” My voice sounded high and shrill and I tore my gaze away from Dima’s appraising look to whirl on my father.

“You and Dimitry, of course,” Papa said, sinking back into his chair and reaching for the bottle.

I snatched it and slammed it down, out of his reach. He’d had more than enough.

“What in the actual fuck?” I said, making Papa gasp since I rarely swore.

Dima had the audacity to chuckle and I turned to him to tell me this was a joke. It took less than a blink to realize it wasn’t. He might have been smirking but there was no hint of humor in his eyes.

My mouth fell open as I stared at the man I had considered a friend. As close to a friend as I could allow myself to have, since I could never share how terrible my home life really was. Well, now he knew, and he’d chosen to take advantage of the knowledge. I had made the biggest mistake of my life, thinking I could trust him, thinking I was just venting my frustrations to a friend because I was faced with the possibility of rotting in the forests of deepest Russia for the foreseeable future.

Who wouldn’t vent? My prospects then had seemed bad.

This was worse.

This was the life sentence my mother had warned me about.

Forcing myself to turn my death glare from Dima to my father, I leaned close so he could really see me through the haze of alcohol in his system.

“Papa,” I pleaded. “Don’t you remember Mama’s dying wish? What you promised her?” I certainly did, because she’d made me promise her the very same thing. I was to live a normal life, and under no circumstances was I to marry into the Bratva. “You promised her, Papa.”

“Olivia, this is not the time,” he grumbled, but I could see by the flicker in his eyes that he remembered no matter how sodden with drink he was. And it hurt him to remember. Good.

“Please,” I said, grabbing his hand, which was cold and clammy. “I know you loved Mama, even if you never loved me.”

I heard Dima’s sharp intake of breath behind me but ignored him, squeezing Papa’s hand and trying to make him call it all off.

“Enough,” Dima said. “The deal is done.”

Papa tore his hand from mine and snarled at me. “Listen to him,” he said, turning away from me as he reached for his precious booze. He looked at Dima and laughed. “She’s your problem now, and good luck to you.”

I made the mistake of looking up at Dima, because looking at my father was making me sick. Hearing his voice was twisting my guts. He really, truly hated me. What was worse than that was the flash of pity in Dima’s eyes as he gripped my arm to lead me out of the house.

Like he had said, the deal was done. I had no say at all. I had been sold, and there were no refunds.

Chapter 7 - Dimitry

My only plan was to get Olivia out of that house and away from her father. It was bad enough the small family home reeked of stale carryouts and booze, but the image of Benedikt slapping Olivia across the face still had my blood boiling.

Nobody touched my woman.

Right now, he had the good sense to sit quietly while dabbing at his broken nose, although he had a pugnacious sneer on his face I would have liked to forcibly wipe off for him. I eyed the vodka bottle, wondering if a healthy swig would settle me down. I was here to help, negotiate some way to get Olivia out of the equation, and all I really wanted to do was knock the man’s block off.

“This is none of your concern,” he had the audacity to say, which had me laughing.

“You don’t think so?” I asked, noting that the tone of my voice had him shrinking from the table. I reached over and hauled him back. “What if I told you I was here on Aleks’s behalf to collect what you owe him?”

He tried to sort that out and shook his head in confusion. “You supposedly didn’t know a thing. Are you telling me that worthless brat did tell you everything?”

He was really trying my patience. “What I’m telling you is that when it comes to my brothers, we’re one and the same. You owe one of us; you owe all of us. And don’t ever call Olivia worthless again unless you want me to break your jaw along with your nose.”

Dropping his gaze, he pressed his lips together, then looked up with fresh avarice in his eyes. “You’re right, she’snot worthless. Or at least she may not be.” Dropping the bloody napkins he’d been holding to his nose; he grinned at me with stained teeth. “She may just be the answer to both our problems.”

“Let me remind you that you’re the only one with a problem,” I said. “And what the fuck are you getting at?” I didn’t like the smug look on his face one little bit.

“I could offer her to Rurik Kuzmin in return for settling the debts. He may even give me enough to pay off your brother if I—”

---