Page 11 of The Bratva's Christmas Bump
“Wow,” she murmurs. “Like a smart kitchen?”
“Something like that.” I leave the kitchen and approach the hallway. I’m not expecting any guests so unless it’s Stu coming to apologize, I’m not in the mood to face anyone either. The demand for them to leave hovers on the tip of my tongue, but it doesn’t see the light of day as the elevator doors slide open and reveal my father, Igor.
He strides toward me at such a pace that his open coat trails behind him along with his white scarf. The tassels flop back and forth with each powerful stride while a cotton turtleneck stretches across his broad chest. His hair, as black as mine, is slicked up and back to make his forehead appear squarer and theshort beard hugging his jaw has been dyed so dark that it looks like someone colored his jaw with permanent marker.
His dress shoes slap on the floor as he closes in, flanked by two of his personal security, and as soon as he reaches the lounge, he speaks like the snap of a belt.
“Where is she?”
Hollie squeaks in fright, but it turns into a squeal when Dad’s left-hand guard pulls out his gun and aims it at her. The spoon clatters from her trembling fingers and she cowers, caught between sliding off the stool and not moving to try and prevent injury.
“Father—”
“Don’t,” he snaps. “I told you to take care of this and instead you’re…” He casts his eye over me and the kitchen in disgust. “You’re sharing amealwith her?”
I don’t reply, but I stride forward and position myself between the guard and her, locking eyes with him and daring him to pull the trigger.
“Maxim,” Dad barks. “We don’t havetimefor this. There are enough distractions and I am up to my neck clearing up other people’s messes. I do not need to handle yours either, understand?” He raises a hand, ready to signal the brutal and abrupt end to Hollie’s life, but I refuse to move.
An unfamiliar, weak surge of panic rises inside me, its cause unknown. I barely know this woman. The fact that she’s hot is in no way reason enough for me to throw my life and reputation on the line to protect her, but something keeps me rooted to the ground, steadfast between her and certain demise.
“You can’t kill her,” I say in a voice that barely sounds like my own.
Igor’s fingers hover in the air. “You dare tell me what I can and cannot do?”
“You can’t kill her because I’m going to marry her.”
5
HOLLIE
“You can’t kill her because I’m going to marry her.”
I gape at Maxim’s back in utter shock. There’s no way I just heard that correctly, right?Marriage? To a man I barely know? A murderer who just casually stood in front of me and threatened the lives of my family and everyone I’ve ever known just to force me into silence?
“What?” Maxim’s father sounds just as shocked as I feel, but before the conversation continues, he suddenly grabs Maxim by the arm and drags him down the corridor toward the office. After the door slams with both of them inside, their voices immediately rise, but they’re muffled enough that I can’t decipher any of the words.
My heart pounds. What little comfort I earned from the rather tasty curry melts away in the presence of the two new stony-faced guards who eye me with curious disbelief.
“Marriage,” says the one with the blue silk tie as he lowers his gun.
“A wedding,” says the other with the red silk tie.
I can’t speak. This night has been a whirlwind. Did I crash my car? Maybe I actually died and this is some alarming purgatory where my morals and values are being tested in the face of some really terrible decisions.
I’m supposed to be home. This late, I should be filled with turkey and my Mom’s amazing creamy, cheesy mashed potatoes. I should be relaxing on the couch watching Dad trying to help Mom to bed after one too many sherries.
Instead I’m here, trapped in this nightmare.
“What did you say to him?” Blue tie moves closer to me, rolling his shoulders as he approaches and fiddling with the cufflinks on his suit.
“Are you some rich heiress or something?” Red tie asks, approaching slowly from the other side of me.
“Nah,” blue tie scoffs. “I know all the rich bitches this side of the river and there ain’t any that look this good.”
Red tie snorts and his beady gaze starts wandering down over my body. A sickly, cold chill creeps across his skin as if led by his gaze until his eyes lock onto my thighs and I’m suddenly highly conscious of the skirt I chose.
“Gotta be that sweet slit between your legs, right? I always knew it would take a special pussy to make Maxim settle down,” red tie remarks. “Gotta be one dazzling cunt.”
