Page 3 of Forced By the Obsessed Bratva
Half of the people at the table rolled their eyes at Mila’s question. She just had it in her to be a menace and ask questions that would get on everyone’s last nerves.
Rurik sighed. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough alcohol for one day?”
“No amount of alcohol is ever too much for a day,” Mila replied, barely glancing over the table to look at him.
Rurik sighed and shook his head. “Crazy woman.”
Mila raised her glass. “The madness runs in the family.”
Everyone at the table laughed. Everyone except me and Zoella.
Zoella’s lip curled as she cleared her throat. “I would rather not have any.”
That answer caught everyone’s attention instantly. All heads turned in her direction, their brows slightly lifted in surprise.
My uncle had the biggest frown on his face, and I could imagine the thoughts running through his head. He believed women lived for one purpose: to serve men and become breeding machines.
Popping her elbow on the table, Mila rested her head on her hand and shrugged. “That might be the case, but you have to choose.”
“There’s no such thing as too much money or too much power. If I had to pick,” Zoella started, her voice level and forceful, “I’d pick the one who doesn’t anticipate being worshipped for either.”
The room went silent.
Mila huffed and rolled her eyes. “All men want to be worshipped for either their money or power.”
“Not all men,” Zoella said calmly, slicing into the steak in front of her. She looked so elegant doing it. “Most men would, but a real man’s value doesn’t depend on how much he has or who he can intimidate with it.”
I was watching her carefully, the way she bent her fingers around the handle of her glass of water, the way she didn’t flinch beneath the abrupt silence, didn’t apologize for her response.
There was a bite in her. It was quiet, deliberate.
I couldn’t help staring.
I’d seen her around previously, naturally, once before Rurik and Yulia’s wedding. She always had the same composure, smiling where she was supposed to, courteous but watchful. Likea person who’d gone long enough being overlooked that she understood its value despite being so young.
A slight smile creased Mila’s brow. “What makes a real man?”
“His morals,” she answered as she dug her fork into the steak. “Morals are what make a real man. Any fool can become rich or kill his way to the top.”
“This is why women shouldn’t study so much,” Rurik said with a shake of his head.
Zoella scoffed, slowly chewing on her meat and sipping from the glass of water in front of her before glancing at my brother. “Common sense can’t be acquired through studying.”
Riruk’s eyes widened in rage. “You might want to watch that tongue of yours, Zoe.”
Zoella gasped, and then she flashed an innocent smile at Riruk. “Forgive me, brother-in-law. I wasn’t insulting you. I was just simply stating that some things do not need to be studied. For example, a decent man wouldn’t cheat on his wife on their wedding night. You wouldn’t do that, would you?”
Riruk’s jaw clenched. He picked up a glass of wine from the table and finished it in one gulp while Yulia lowered her gaze to the table, probably too ashamed because she knew the truth.
The air was thick with tension, but Zoella didn’t back down. She didn’t glance away or let the disapproving look on Rurik’s face frighten her.
I bit back a smile, perplexed at the way her brain worked.
She wasn’t naïve for someone who’d grown up sheltered and with only one purpose, which was to be used as a pawn for future alliances. She was smart enough to see through the performance, brave enough to keep playing.
Then, like she’d sensed my stare burning into her for the last hour, she looked up. And for the first time, our eyes met.
Something shifted.
