Page 4 of Forced Prisoner By the Bratva

“That man gives me the creeps,” Arlo confessed, standing by my side. He smoothed down the fabric of his coat.

“Emphasis on ‘man,’ Arlo,” I said, my voice thick and husky as I shot him a quick glance. “He bleeds just like you.” I picked up a slender glass of champagne from a nearby waiter's tray.

“Mr. Tarasov.” A man in a gray suit approached me, extending a hand. “Good evening.”

“Victor.” I shook his hand; his grip was nothing compared to Miguel's, weightless like a woman's hands.

“I would have come to pay my respects earlier, but I had to wait forhimto leave first.” Victor stole a glance in Miguel's direction. “I don't know you do it, but I can't stand that man.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper, laced with fear. “He's pure evil.” Victor straightened, blue eyes locked on mine. “And you're just as evil because you're not afraid of him—hell, you're not afraid of anything.” He chuckled.

Victor Conti, a business partner of mine, talked a lot, and as his voice droned on, my sharp green eyes continued to scan the room. Mentally, I cataloged the various players and their potential alliances, nodding to a few familiar faces, all while maintaining a cool, calculated demeanor.

“If Liam O'Brian were here tonight, he'd be crushing it right now.” Victor's statement snapped my attention back to him.

I traced his gaze to the table where Connor Donnelly was engrossed in a poker game. “Liam isn't here?” I asked, squinting, my eyes narrowing slightly.

“I haven't seen him,” he replied, checking his watch, “and if he's not here by now, then I don't think he's coming at all,which is strange.” He paused, looking at me. “Liam is skilled at the game…diplomatic,” he added.

“Yeah, I heard,” I said, my brows furrowing. My interest was piqued. “I also heard he's quite the charmer.” I sipped my glass.

Victor chuckled. “That's one way to put it,” he began, a faint grin lining the corners of his lips. “I've seen him talk his way out of a tight spot multiple times. I've watched him win in this game more times than I count…flawless.” The slight pause came when he shot a quick look back at the table. “The guy is that good.”

I scanned the room one more time, my gaze sweeping across the faces of the O'Brian’s representatives. “And yet, he isn't here tonight. Wonder why.” I lifted my glass to my lips, taking another sip.

I was looking forward to seeing the O'Brians’ golden boy in action, curious to find out whether he lived up to his reputation. However, he wasn't here tonight, and I couldn't help but wonder why. Patrick understood the gravity of this deal, and he didn't think to send the best man for the job? Something wasn't adding up.

Patrick O'Brian was a cunning man. What did he have up his sleeve now?

“Oh, shit, that was a wrong move,” Victor said, his eyes never leaving the O'Brians’ table.

My eyes returned to the poker game, studying the players for a moment. Conner was clearly losing, and from the looks of things, this was a crucial round that would determine their fate.

His forehead glistened with cold sweat, almost undetectable. Although he wore a stoic expression, I could sense his confidence wavering.

What a shame and a complete waste of my time!

My jaw clenched, and a wave of disappointment washed over me.

It would take a miracle for the game to turn around in their favor, and the chances of finding one in such a delicate round were zero.

“Scoot over.” A woman's soft voice, laced with determination, caught my attention just as I was about to leave.

My eyes fell on her, a beautiful young woman in a black dress—a knee-length gown that hugged her in all the right places. As she took control of the game, her black eyes, sharp and calculating, surveyed the table with expert precision.

Her dark hair fell in effortless waves on her back, and her face was etched with solemnity and determination. She focused on the game like her life depended on it. Her sharp, dark eyes locked onto the floor, a possible straight draw materializing on board.

This woman didn't waste any time; she seized the initiative, raising the stakes with a bet so bold that it left the others in awe. The other players exchanged glances amongst themselves, soft murmurs rising, but she didn't look like she gave a fuck.

I didn't realize that I'd arched my brows, astonished by the swift shift in the atmosphere. The game just got interesting.

Connor squinted at her as her fingers moved swiftly, pushing the stack of chips into the center of the table.

“Are you sure that's a good idea?” one of the players asked, his eyes locked to her.

“She's feeling lucky tonight,” another said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“What can I say?” Her lips curled into a radiant smile, her tone smooth and endearing. “A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do,” she added, confidence lacing her tone.

Smart,I thought, admiring her ability to mask her plans and keep her opponents guessing.

---