Page 6 of Plus-Size Bride Forced By the Bratva
The family business was now a shadow of what it used to be, and more than half of our domestic staff had left. I didn’t blame them; there was nothing more my father could offer. These workers had their own lives, families, and bills to pay. It made no sense to remain loyal to a man who could no longer pay them for their work.
Brick by brick, my father’s empire was falling to pieces. It turned out that his most loyal friends weren’t so loyal after all. He was all alone, dealing with his problems like the strong man that he was.
One by one, his business associates withdrew from his companies. He lost his most profitable clients, his partners, and shareholders in this crisis.
Recently, I split my time between late-night study sessions for my final semester in fashion design and phone calls to suppliers. It was our way to try to keep the company afloat. Nothing was working, and the more suppliers I reached out to, the more disappointments I got.
It was so exhausting, so difficult to keep trying, especially when it felt like the whole universe was against us. Did all of these suppliers have a meeting where they decided not even to lend the Jensens a listening ear?
What had happened to Dad’s business partners? Why wouldn’t any of them help?
“It’s all so frustrating, Blair,” I muttered quietly, fingers running through my hair, elbows resting on the table. “I’m tired.”
The rich scent of roasted beans and sweet pastries lingered in the air, mingling with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. I sat at a small corner table, across from my friend, Blair, our mugs steaming between us.
“Hey,” she called softly, reaching out to take my hand. “You’ll get through this, okay? It’s just a phase.” Her stormy green-gray eyes stayed fixed on me, her soft brown curls pulled into a messy ponytail.
“No offense, but a motivational speech is the last thing I need right now.”
She let out a faint chuckle, her lips curling into a smile. “I’m sorry, but as long as I’m here with you, that’s all you’re gonna get from me.”
I rubbed my eyes, laughing lightly despite my breaking heart. “I just want it to stop. I want things to go back to being as they were, you know.”
She picked up her mug and slurped her coffee. “You mean like your relationship with Viktor Tarasov?” she teased, stealing a glance at me over the rim of her mug.
My brows drew together, a playful scowl settling on my face. “Ha-ha! Very funny.” I lifted my mug to my lips. “Remind me again why I keep you around?”
“Moral support.”
“Well, you, my friend, are doing a very terrible job.” I took a sip.
“And that’s why you love me so much.” She laughed.
I pursed my lips to suppress the smile threatening to break free. “Careful there, or I’ll start asking aboutyourdating disasters.”
“Come on, you know I don’t have any,” she said, wiggling her brows. “I’m very meticulous about who I let into my life.”
I raised my brows, my head tilting toward her. “Really?” My tone dripped with mock disbelief. “Because I remember a guy named Adam—the one you caught kissing that blonde behind the library.”
She froze, her fingers scratching the back of her head before she became defensive. “Okay, first, that was a long time ago. And second, I dumped his sorry ass before he could even finish his pathetic excuse.”
“Yeah, right. Let’s go with that.” I smirked into my mug.
She swatted at me from across the table, laughter spilling between us. For the first time all day, the heaviness in my heart eased, and I let myself swoon in this fleeting moment of bliss.
Blair Blake was my best friend and safe space. She was a freelance investigative journalist and an ex-military brat. She was danger wrapped in denim and defiance, with oversized flannels concealing a pistol holster she swore she’d used. Lies.
Blair was the only twenty-one-year-old girl who wandered the city armed with a loaded gun as if trouble waslurking around every corner. Sometimes, I wondered if a zombie apocalypse was coming that I didn’t know about.
As sarcastic and annoying as she was, Blair was still the only one that I could talk to about stuff like this. She was the only one I could lay all my frustrations upon.
“You know, you actually dodged a bullet with Viktor,” her voice cut through my thoughts. “I hear the Bratva is now tightening their grip on the city.”
I leaned back in my chair, eyes darting toward the TV, where the news was reporting the clash between two rival gangs and the destruction they left in their wake.
My gaze shifted back to her face. “I have bigger problems to worry about than the Bratva and their activities.” I frowned at the news, my jaw clenching at the sight of dead bodies on the streets. “Why haven’t the likes of Lev Tarasov been brought in for questioning?”
She glanced at the TV screen, then back at me. “The truth is, these guys are above the law. The Bratva is untouchable at the moment. Even if other gang leaders were to be brought in by the cops, no one would dare come after Lev Tarasov.”
