Page 13 of Bratva Bride

My father frowned at his outburst. "Control yourself, Maxim," he scolded, like he was talking to a child.

Maxim lowered his hand and straightened his big body. He narrowed his eyes at me accusingly, like I orchestrated this whole thing.

Well, you kinda did.

"They won't ask," he muttered. "They won't."

It sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than us, but either way I stayed silent, letting the conversation drop.

A little while later we touched down in a wide, open field. A black SUV was parked and ready to go as soon as we landed. We all piled in and headed to our destination.

The car ride was tense, the conversation from the helicopter still hanging in the air. It was clear Maxim was still pissed about the whole thing. He didn't even try to hide it. The fucker. If my father and Aleksandr didn't know about our relationship before, they sure as fuck did now.

After a short time, we pulled up in front of a large commercial building. I had no idea who owned it, but I trusted my father had the whole thing handled. The second we parked, Maxim jumped out, opened our car door, and we all climbed out. Another black SUV pulled up behind us and four of my father’s men got out and took up position behind us without a word. Knowing how prepared my father always was, he would have had the men here earlier to scope out the building before we arrived to make sure it wasn’t an ambush of some kind.

As we made our way into the building, my mind started going into overdrive. My eyes moved around the room we just walked into, looking for any type of threat, but there was none. The place was completely empty.

We walked along the main floor, not a single soul in sight, not a single sound to be heard except for the click-clack of my heels.

Father led us to an elevator on the far side of the building. It was a tight fit, but we all crammed inside. As the door shut and the elevator began to rise, I felt something touch my hand and I looked down to see Maxim wrapping his fingers around my wrist. I looked at him in confusion and tried to pull my wrist back, but his hold immediately tightened.

His lips were pressed in a tight line and I could see the vein in the middle of his forehead start to throb. He squeezed tighter, to the point of pain and I tried hard not to react. As soon as the elevator dinged announcing our arrival at our floor, I narrowed my eyes at him and pulled my wrist free. This time he let it go, but I could tell by the look on his face that this wasn't over.

Father walked out first, followed by Aleksandr on his right and me on his left. Maxim took up position behind us, along with my father's other men. We walked in complete silence, no one making a sound. We passed several different conference rooms, each one completely empty. The place was completely deserted.

At the end of the hall, a woman was waiting with her head down and hands clasped in front of her body. She was dressed in a stylish, black pantsuit and her blonde hair was up in a tight bun. She kept her head down as we approached, not saying a word. I could see her body shaking and I knew she was scared. Terrified, more likely.

I mean, who wouldn't be? You're about to be trapped in a building with two of the most ruthless mafia leaders in America. If you weren't the tiniest bit freaked out by that prospect, then you're a fucking fool.

The double doors beside the woman swung open as we stepped closer and we walked in. The first thing I noticed was the huge conference table in the middle of the room. It could easily sit fifty people, but at that moment it was empty. The only thing on it was a basket of fruit centred in the middle.

I followed my father to the head of the table with Aleksandr, as Maxim and the other men fell back to take up position behind us against the wall. My eyes moved around the room, taking in every bit of detail that I could.

Alessandro De Luca stood dead centre at the other end of the table, his lips pressed together and eyes narrowed on us. He was wearing a suit similar to the one in the picture I saw yesterday, and it looked even better on him in person than it did in the photo.

His two sons were standing beside him, Vincenzo on his left, Arturo on his right. I had to work hard not to stare openly at his eldest son. In fact, I tried to not even look at him at all, but the second I felt his gaze on me that flew out the bloody window.

Arturo stood tall; a few inches taller than his father. His suit clung to him like a second skin, his muscles bulging and contracting as he moved. His large, muscular body was screaming for my attention. I didn't think there was a man out there as big as Aleksandr, but Arturo could definitely give Aleksandr a run for his money.

His eyes, one blue and one green, were firmly on me, running up and down the length of my body. When his eyes finally locked onto mine, his lips curved up into a coy smile. God, he looked even more handsome in person, if that was even possible. The intensity of his gaze started to make my palms sweat.

He had a certain aura about him, a dark, dangerous presence that surrounded him. Power. That’s the first thing that came to mind as I stared at him, admiring the rough, sculpted lines of his face.

I couldn't get over how gorgeous this man was! The fact that he didn’t stop staring at me started to make me nervous, but I worked hard not to show it.

Vincenzo was dressed in black slacks and a white, buttoned up dress shirt. His bright green eyes were sparkling. They were mesmerising. His black hair was styled messily, like he just got up this morning, ran his fingers through it, and said,

‘Yep I'm done.' But surprisingly, it looked good on him. Of course, it would. With a face like that, I'm sure he couldn't look bad if he tried.

At first, no one said a word. Everyone was too busy sizing the other up. The De Lucas were watching us and we were watching them.

"De Luca," my father's deep voice filled the room.

"Volkov," Alessandro replied in the same tone.

They both stood there, staring at each other for a few more seconds before they simultaneously pulled out their chairs and took a seat.

Aleksandr followed our father, easing his big, overgrown body into the tiny chairs they provided. Just as I was about to take my seat, Maxim came over and pulled my chair out, sweeping his hand over it like he was my Prince Charming or some shit.

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