Page 8 of The Russian's Forced Bride
“Why are you here?” I asked, cutting straight to the point as I gazed into his greyish eyes that looked at me critically. Then he removed the cigar from his mouth, placing it on the coffee table as he leaned forward, maintaining eye contact.
And then he dropped the bomb with abang.
“You’re next.”
I blinked, taken aback by what he said. “What?”
“The men who took your father’s life are coming after yours,” he explained, his voice low, as if we were being watched. “They were very strategic, child, and followed your father all the way to the Kamarov mansion. If they killed him, you can bet you’re next on the hit list as his heir.”
The walls around me appeared to close in as my breathing became irregular. I couldn’t breathe properly.
“But why me? Why Dad? He never hurt anyone.”
Oskar wasn’t affected by my fear. If anything, he looked at me like I was a painting he was trying to figure out—like he was trying to understand me.
“Don’t worry, Arlette,” Oskar took a drag from his cigar. “Your father made necessary arrangements for your protection in the case of a tragedy like this.”
My brows furrowed at his words.
“The Bratva has been tasked with protecting you, but we can only do so when you become a part of us. And the only way for that is for you to get married into our family.”
My eyes widened as I began shaking my head adamantly.
No!
No!
“I have a nephew,” he said. “You must’ve heard of him. Rafael Kamarov. He’s—”
“No!” I slammed my hands onto the table in between us, my face flushed in anger.
Rafael Kamarov? The same bastard who stared down at me like I was some insect he was wasting his time talking to?
I would rather die than marry him.
“Do you hear yourself, Oskar?” I sneered with a dry laugh. “Not only is he decades older than me, but he’s also literally known all over New York as a manwhore. There is no way I’m forcing myself into a marriage like that.”
That man was a snake. A greater evil than I had once considered Matvey.
But Oskar simply chuckled at me in amusement.
“Alright, Arlette. I’ll make sure to let the Bratva know to prepare a casket in case of your death. At least I can honor your father’s wishes in some way.”
“Whatever,” I muttered, arms crossed. My life was already filled with emptiness either way. I’d rather be shot dead than forced to marry that man.
But Oskar wasn’t finished yet, because his voice now carried an air of menace as his grey eyes glinted sadistically.
“And when they’re done with you, they’ll track down that brother of yours in New Jersey and send his skinned body back here to Chicago, where no one would be alive to bury him.”
My face paled at Oskar’s threat.
I couldn’t let anyone hurt Jacob. He was innocent, just as much as I was.
I hated this. I hated the Bratva. I hated that my father entrusted my safety and our family to them.
Trust the Bratva, he’d said.
Right, and that was why he thought marrying me off to another of them for the second time was a good idea. I was lucky when things with Matvey didn’t work out, but I didn’t see myself pulling out of this one.
