Page 8 of Captivated By the Bratva

I’d find her, but if she was this used to taking off and avoiding her fate, I wondered with mild amusement how hard of a time she’d give me in returning her here.

4

NADIA

“All I’m saying is that I think you can go really far with whatever you decide, Nadia.” Professor Owens grinned at me as he stood.

As far as profs went, he was one of the coolest I’d met. Zoe and I had come out for a few drinks to celebrate our good grades so far. She already left, but I lingered to finish my one beer. Partying hard didn’t appeal yet. I still had exams to tend with.

Professor Owens was a regular at this pub so close to campus, though, and that was just one more way he was relatable, not stuffy and pedantic like most of the other professors and members of faculty.

Seeing him here was a pleasant surprise. His kind words of encouragement filled me with careful, delicate optimism. He believed in me and thought I’d be wise to pursue a creative writing degree next, but he was genuine in praising my academic success no matter what I debated doing.

Iwouldlike to go really far. Far away from here, from my dad, from Mr. Avilov…

But he couldn’t know that. Any other student would have to decide what to do after earning a bachelor’s degree, to get a job or continue with another degree. Me? I had to flavor my options withwill this help me stay out of an arranged marriage I don’t want?

“I appreciate that, Professor,” I told him.

He dipped his chin in a nod, then turned and left me to my drink.

I sighed, staring at the liquid in the glass.

Hopelessness filled me. Instead of experiencing a high of receiving high praise from my professor, I felt stuck. Trapped, with nowhere to go. And clueless about what to do.

Why is this my life?

Why did I have to be born to my father?

Why did he ever make a promise on my behalf before I was even alive?

Why?

I was so rooted in misery that I didn’t flinch when a guy bumped into my side. He took the stool Professor Owens had vacated, but the man slid in so clumsily, he knocked his knee into mine and chuckled loudly. “Whoops. My bad.”

I stared ahead, lacking the energy to smile and forgive him for his “blunder”. He totally did it on purpose, which meant he wanted my attention. I wasn’t in the mood. I was not ready or willing to strike up small talk with anyone. And I was definitely not interested in flirting.

“Looking good,” he said as a pervy greeting.

I let my expression fall. Turning to him, I raised my brows and winced. “Seriously?Looking good?That’s your line?”

“It’s true.” He nodded at the bartender, who brought him a drink. “You’re a fine-looking lady.”

God. Spare me the desperation.He was clearly seeking out an easy lay, and that was not going to be me.

“Save it,” I snapped with what I assumed was enough snark that he’d forget about it.

“Ooh. You’ve got some sass in you.”

I sipped my drink, amused yet not at this random idiot trying too hard to hit on me. “And you should give up trying to get in me.”

He laughed, like my crude comeback was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “Ouch. Bad day?”

That’s putting it mildly.I refused to be that pessimistic, though. I had avoided being Mr. Avilov’s bride for six years now. He tried to “take me home” when I was fucking fifteen, and here I was, twenty-one and still independent. Every day that I remained so was a blessing that I wouldn’t take for granted.

“I’m just wanting to chat.”

“You’re trying to get in my pants,” I retorted.

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