Page 13 of Forced Prisoner By the Bratva

Yep, I'm doomed.

Chapter 6 – Erik

The air was filled with the savory aroma of roasting meats and freshly baked bread, wafting from the nearby kitchen. It teased and invaded my senses.

Impeccably dressed in an ash-colored suit, my polished shoes, glistening in the lights, clicked against the marble floor.

Exuding an aura of confidence, I glided toward the private dining hall inPakhanArtem's grand estate—a masterpiece of opulence and refinement. The warm, golden glow of the crystal chandeliers that hung from the high, vaulted ceilings enveloped me. Rich, dark paneling adorned the walls, seeming to absorb the light, creating a sense of exclusivity.

The dining table, a long, polished mahogany, dominated the center of the room. It was set with fine white linens, delicate crystal glasses, and elegant silverware.

The soft hum of quiet conversations filled the air, and smiling faces occupied their seats at the table. My brother and a few other close relations were already present, as wasPakhanArtem himself.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” a sweet, familiar feminine voice came from behind.

I turned to face the speaker, and there she was, as beautiful as ever. Her long, dark hair was styled in a bun on top of her head, and her sparkling green eyes crinkled at the corners as her lips curled into a smile. Her knee-length flare gown hung loosely over her graceful curves, with a diamond jewel glistening around her neck.

“Sierra,” I greeted, a small smile playing on my lips as I sketched a brief, courteous bow.

As the wife of thePakhan, her presence commanded the same respect as her husband's. But beyond the rules of power, I personally had so much respect for her as an individual.

“Tonight's meeting is about you,” she said, her voice smooth and endearing. “Showing up late isn't a good sign of a serious husband,” she teased, tapping my shoulder.

“I bet he'll be late for his own wedding,” Lev chipped in from his seat, his cutlery digging into his meal.

A scattered laugh rose from the immediate family members at the table.

“Very funny, Brother,” I replied, my tone playful and sarcastic.

“Take a seat, Erik,”PakhanArtem said, gesturing at a reserved chair. “Our guests will be here soon.”

I did as instructed, beaming a smile at Zoya before settling in the chair beside her. “You look amazing,” I whispered to her, adjusting in my seat.

“Thank you,” she replied with the same tone, a smile spreading across her face. “And you look dashing.” Zoya leaned forward and added, her voice falling below a whisper, “She'll love you.”

Yeah, I'm not so sure about that,I thought to myself but retained my small smile.

Zoya seemed elated tonight, curious and excited to meet the man arranged for her. I hadn't seen her smile this much before, and quite frankly, the girl beside me didn't look eighteen.

For some reason, she appeared a lot more mature tonight than on a regular day. Perhaps it was the makeup and the elegant dinner gown that accentuated her curves. Liam would be pleased to meet her.

Unfortunately, I couldn't say the same about myself. The O'Brian girl and I had already started off on the wrong foot. She had shown herself to be arrogant and sassy, and while she was intelligent, I was convinced that she would make a terrible wife.

However, I hadn’t agreed to do this on an emotional basis. No. This arrangement was strictly business, and thealliance between my family and hers would be beneficial to both parties.

It didn't matter what I wanted. As long as the Bratva demanded something of me, I'd obey without complaints. My loyalty was first to the Tarasov family before my own personal gain. If spending the rest of my life with a spoiled little brat was the only way to help the Bratva ascend to greater heights, then that was a price I'd gladly pay.

A familiar perfume invaded my senses, though the scent was faint in the air, as though the owner was in the living room. I just wasn't sure where I'd smelled it before or whose perfume it was.

Less than ten seconds later, the O'Brians arrived, the full squad heading toward the dining table.

Patrick O'Brian led the way, his wife by his side, both scanning the room with discreet glances. Patrick's impeccably tailored black suit exuded confidence, wealth, and power, as did his wife's elegant dress. Two of his bodyguards flanked them, their chiseled features accentuating their ruggedness.

Liam and his right-hand man, Connor, walked side by side, both dressed to impress, their muscles bulging from underneath their blazers. A few other unfamiliar faces accompanied them, and then there was her.

I felt my heart skip a beat at the sight of Tessa O'Brian, and it was as if time itself stood still. Her presence turned heads and raised eyebrows, and even Zoya had her jaw dropped—literally. I heard one of my relatives whistle under his breath, and I could tell he was looking at her.

Her long red dress clung to her like a second skin, highlighting her curvature and hugging her in the right places. The daring slit at the base of her gown revealed a tantalizing glimpse of her alluring legs as she glided gracefully toward the table.

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