Page 12 of The Russian's Forced Bride
Joaquin Saavedra was an intercontinental facilitator, as well as a money-grubbing and power-hungry madman.
He had never directly messed with the Bratva, but it seemed to me that his ego was growing. Joaquin must have had something that gave him the guts to kill Jaxon Whitmore on Bratva territory.
But that wasn’t all.
“From what I’ve heard, Joaquin has been watching the Bratva cash flow system for a while, Rafael, so I need you to be very careful. We’re dealing with a smart man who suddenly went off the radar after that stunt he pulled,” Matvey warned me, and I took a sharp breath, scoffing afterward.
Joaquin Saavedra was a fool—one who loved to dip his hands into a crackling inferno, hoping to survive.
But from all Matvey had just said, I figured out why he wanted me to marry Whitmore’s heiress. It further solidified our share of her father’s company and offered her immunity and protection.
But….
“I don’t want to marry her,” I told Matvey flat-out.
His gaze on me hardened, like he couldn’t believe his ears.
But I was just as stubborn as he thought himself to be.
His voice dropped to a dangerous calm. “You’ve been given an order, Rafael. Your only choice is to obey.”
A muscle in my cheek ticked as a smile dragged across my face. He was right, and I knew he was, but it was satisfying to see Matvey try to remind me of my place. I tossed the paper he had given me back onto his desk before leaning back in the armchair.
“Alright, you win.” I lifted my hands in mock surrender, and Matvey raised a brow, clearly surprised at how fast I’d changed my mind.
But the change wasn’t out of the blue. I figured I had no choice, and a twisted part of me reveled in the thought of having that woman in my world and within my grasp.
She had managed to pique my interest, and I wanted to know what about her was so exotic to me.
“What?” I asked Matvey while crossing my arms in response to his confused expression. “It’s my duty to obey, isn’t it? Although I do have a condition to this.”
“A request?” Matvey asked, narrowing his eyes at me, and I nodded.
“I need to meet her alone first. A piece of paper can’t prepare me to live with a princess forever.”
Matvey scoffed at my words with visible irritation. He wasn’t just going to make all the decisions without me having a say, and this was my way of letting him know that.
And there it was.
Matvey sighed, cussing me out in Russian before he nodded. “I’ll make arrangements.”
A smirk tugged at my lips.
Good.
Chapter 4 – Arlette
He said yes. That son of a bitch agreed to marry me.
It wasn’t like I was completely surprised. I mean, he was the same person who completely disregarded my feelings at the hospital, making it look as though I were overreacting to my own father’s death.
He even tried to intimidate me, and now here he was, agreeing to marry me.
I despised everything about that man and the Bratva, even though I had only met him once in my entire life. That was how strong his first impression on me was.
And as if agreeing to marry me wasn’t bad enough, Oskar also told me he wanted us to meet—maybe to gawk at his prize, the woman he had earned after years of being a womanizer and a murderer.
So here I was, sitting all pretty at the Ritz-Carlton’s private lounge suite at 10 p.m. The backless, shimmering dress I wore clung to my curves and skin, prickling at it uncomfortably, and I resisted the urge to pull it off and change to something more breathable.
