Page 8 of Forced plus-size Bride of the Bratva
Big, watchful eyes. A round, soft face with a stubborn mouth. Curves like temptation built from heaven and sin. Hair pulled into a messy bun. The way her eyes widened that night at Zoe’s party, when she caught me watching her from across the room. Like she knew.
I stare down at my knuckles, still wrapped in bloodied gauze. My voice comes out low, careful. “What are you saying?”
Lukin chuckles. “Don’t insult me by pretending I don’t know, brat.”
My lips press into a thin line.
“I saw you that night, Adrian,” he continues smoothly. “At Zoe’s birthday. You couldn’t take your eyes off her. And ever since then? I’ve kept quiet. Even when I noticed the way her life’s been…curated.”
I say nothing.
“You think I don’t know you’ve been keeping tabs on her for a year?” Lukin’s voice is laced with amusement. “She tries to date, and suddenly, the guy disappears. Her campus security improves out of nowhere. Her rent gets mysteriously cheaper. You think that happens by coincidence?”
“I never touched her,” I say.
Lukin hums. “I know. That’s the part that makes this so interesting.”
I press a hand against the back of my neck, the tension rising.
“She’s the only blood relative that piece of shit has left,” Lukin says quietly. “And yes, Logan should die. That’s what he deserves for daring to steal from us. But if you want her—really want her—I’ll give you clearance.”
I go still.
“She becomes the exchange,” he says. “Logan lives. And she becomes yours.”
I don’t respond.
I don’t have to.
For a long time, I just…stand there.
The warehouse hums with silence. Zalar says nothing. The man in the chair is quiet now, too—unconscious or dead. I don’t care enough to check.
My mind’s a thousand miles away.
I see her in my mind’s eye. From the latest photo my men anonymously took of her.
Jennie in a sunlit courtyard on campus, her head thrown back in a laugh that hit me harder than a bullet to the chest. Her hoodie was too big, sleeves swallowing her hands as she sipped from a plastic cup. She had earbuds in, totally unaware she was being watched. Protected.
Mine.
And she had no idea.
I’d seen a hundred versions of her this past year. Jennie at the grocery store. Jennie falling asleep over her textbooks in the library. Jennie walking in the rain with her hood up, still managing to look like warmth made human.
She wasn’t meant for this world.
Too soft. Too trusting. Too kind.
And that’s exactly why I never touched her.
Because I ruin everything I touch.
Still, I never stopped watching.
Never stopped wanting.
Lukin’s voice slices through the silence, sharp now. “You want to daydream, do it later. Answer the damn question.”
