Page 47 of Forced plus-size Bride of the Bratva
Kaz leaves about half an hour after I sat in the living room. I hear the heavy door swing open and shut again, the lowrumble of exchanged words between the two men fading as they move outside. I stay rooted in place, pacing slow and anxious across the length of the living room rug. My fingers tighten around the hem of my dress.
The front door opens again.
Adrian walks in, alone this time, and he stops when he sees me already standing. His shirt sleeves are rolled halfway up his forearms now, and the tension in his shoulders hasn’t gone down one bit.
I don’t wait.
“What was that all about?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even.
His eyes lock on mine—dark, unreadable. “What?”
I lift my chin. “Kaz. Your meeting. The bounty. I heard him mention it.”
Adrian exhales slowly through his nose and shuts the door behind him. “You were listening?”
“I was standing outside the door. You told me to stay inside, not to stay deaf.”
Something sharp flickers in his eyes. I don’t care. I step closer.
“You said I’m your wife now,” I continue. “So I deserve to know what’s happening, especially if it’s dangerous. Who’s the bounty for? Is someone coming after you?”
“Are you worried about me now?”
“No. I’m just concerned for myself, that’s all. What’s it about?”
He doesn’t answer. He moves toward the couch instead, shrugs off his jacket, and tosses it over the backrest before undoing the top buttons of his shirt with slow, deliberate movements. Like I’m not even speaking.
“I’m not going to shut up just because you’re ignoring me,” I snap, following him. “Tell me what’s going on.”
He looks over his shoulder at me, finally, but the expression on his face is cold and quiet. He doesn’t raise his voice—he doesn’t have to.
“Jennie,” he says, “don’t get involved in things that don’t concern you.”
“That’s rich,” I shoot back. “You dragged me into this. You gave me your name, forced me into your house, your bed. And now you want to tell me I don’t get a say?”
He turns fully to face me.
I freeze at the intensity in his eyes. He steps forward slowly, closing the space between us.
“You’re safe,” he says, voice low. “That’s all you need to know.”
I laugh—bitter, disbelieving. “That’s not enough.”
“It should be.”
“It’s not.”
He tilts his head slightly, watching me like a puzzle he hasn’t decided how to solve yet. Or destroy.
With a tired sigh, he mutters, “Your brother’s not just a fuck-up, Jennie. He’s a goddamn curse.”
I blink, confused. “What do you mean?”
He turns halfway, one hand gripping the doorframe, his jaw hard as stone. “The bounty Kaz mentioned—it’s not from us. It’s from another mafia.”
I go still.
Adrian’s gaze settles on mine like cold steel. “Apparently, your brother didn’t just steal from the Rusnak Bratva. He pissed off other people, too. Big people. Dangerous ones. Now they’ve put a price on his head.”
