Page 1 of The Pakhan's Forced Bride
Chapter 1 - Belle
The idiot sitting opposite me pulls his mouth to the side in a grimace.
“Don’t you think you should have ordered a salad?” he asks.
I snort.
This is not the first comment he’s made regarding my weight this evening. And I put a lot of effort into getting ready and looking pretty. Not for him. I did it for me, for fun, to try and make this evening more bearable.
But no matter how pretty I feel, it doesn't change the fact that I don’t want to be here on another forced date.Thanks, Mom.
It’s hilarious how men think they have a right to comment on my body as though they own it.It’s mine, by the way.
Especially men that I don’t even know. Like this asshole.
My eyes trace over the guy sitting opposite me.
Another one in the long line of assholes my mother has been setting me up with on these stupid blind dates lately.
She’s hell-bent on finding me a husband, something I have zero interest in. I want to be single for a good deal longer. And when I meet a man, he’s going to be amazing. He’s going to love me for me, and best of all, he’s going to have a sense of humor that can match mine.
But until then, I want to travel, see the world, find out who I am, learn about myself, and what I want from life.
I’m way too young to be stuck in this torturous, never-ending blind date mission my mother is on.
I sigh and smile tightly. “Interesting that you feel the need to comment on the steak I ordered when you look like you haven’t seen the inside of a gym in years.”
His eyes flare wide.Oh, it’s not that fun when someone does it back to you, is it?
I sit back in my seat, watching his face change from annoyance to anger. He leans forward over the table and hisses at me, “You’ll never find a husband looking like that. You should take care of yourself, girl; you’d be lucky to marry a man like me. And I’d make sure you got yourself right. It’s appalling you think men would ever be attracted tothat.” He makes a point of looking me up and down, slow and judging.
My smile gets much wider as amusement shoots through me. The audacity. I roll my eyes ever so slightly. It’s always the same with these guys. I mean, this one is way bigger than I am. His teeth are stained from smoking, and he has zero personality. I’ve been carrying the conversation the whole date so far, and his eyes are so dead, I’m starting to wonder if there’s even a real person in there somewhere.
He’s boring, bland, and mean.
Yet he feels he has the right to comment onmybody.
How does my mother find these guys?
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I need to powder my nose. Just to take a moment totake care of myself,” I say over-elegantly, brushing my hand through the air with my pinky finger raised. Yes, asshole, it’s called sarcasm.
I stand up and walk away from the table, taking my time because I’m hoping he’ll be gone by the time I get back.
I can’t wait to end this date.
The problem is that I’ve had to sit through to the end of each of them because these are well-known men in bratva circles. Men who have business with my brother, Benedikt. Allies and partners.
I can’t be rude and just leave out the back, even though it’s all I daydream about from the moment I sit down. Dammit, I wish I could tell them what I really think of them.
I’d love to do a proper comedy roasting on his non-personality, wine-red cheeks, and yellow teeth.
Okay, now I’m being mean.But it’s self-defense.
I make my way through the restaurant, past the open kitchen where you can watch the chef doing incredible things with food that makes it look like he’s creating art.
So what if I enjoy food. It’s my choice. And I’m actually perfectly comfortable in my body, so I really don’t care what that asshole thinks of me.
This is a beautiful restaurant, one of my favorites in Las Vegas. Sometimes I come here alone because I love watching them make the food. They put on a show. It’s fascinating. You can see the love and passion they put into their creations.
