Page 6 of The Bratva's Forced Marriage
“That one. I want her.”
My words fell in a thicker pool of silence.
Viktor shifted on the seat and sniffled. “She does not look like an easy one.”
“My mind is made up,” I dropped my feet to the floor and dusted a lint off my pants. “She is on my menu now. Part of the things I like.”
That forced a smile on Viktor’s face. With a grin, he said, “Then, it’s done. You’ll have her on your doorstep by morning.”
“But you can’t—you can’t do that,” Andy was speaking. The shine in his eyes had dulled and his lips were pulled in a grim line. “I don’t know how things work where you come from but, here, we operate differently. Don’t come causing trouble now, kidnapping girls. You can’t have complete control over the authorities—”
“That is the third time you have said ‘I can’t,” I commented. He swallowed. “The next time you do that, you might lose your tongue. Or a finger. It depends on my mood. But let this stick: what Rafail Varkov wants, he gets. About the girl? You should know, from now on, she is mine.”
Chapter 3 – Juliana
The cool summer breeze whipped my hair across my face. Sweat and soft tendrils stuck to my lips. I tucked them behind my ears and rubbed my arms with a huff.
Today had been a busy day. A hot, bothersome day. For reasons I knew were more than the tedious work of serving from table to table. But I shook off the vivid, dark memories of last night– of the statuesque man, his dark suit, and those ocean-blue eyes piercing through me, and pulled my cell phone out of my pocket.
I had thirty uninterrupted minutes and planned to make the most of it. One way to do that was to connect with family. I pressed the phone against my ear and stared at an old gray-haired man smoking on the curb.
The automatic hum went through twice and he picked up on the third.
“Juju?” His husky voice, soothing as ever, floated through the speaker, not hiding his surprise. Just the sound of that voice made my lips curl to my cheeks. I had missed him.
I turned away from the sight of the man coughing and choking on the cloud of smoke from his lungs and folded an arm under my elbow. Cool air blew through my hair from behind and tickled my chin as I paced back and forth on the sidewalk.
I twirled a strand around my finger and laughed, “Don’t call me that! The last time I heard it was from an adorable four-year-old boy. No one’s called me that ever since.”
He laughed. It was airy and warm like I’d always remembered. “It’s been that long?”
I smiled. “Yeah, it has.”
“Still babysitting for Nessa?”
I shook my head and immediately remembered that he couldn’t see me. “Nope.” I raised my head. A pesky bird flying low, diving, and dodging poles caught my attention. “Could barely keep up, juggling that and school. Plus, they left Denver.”
“Hm.” The mirth was gone and replaced by an edge I recognized.
He worried about me. He always did, but I didn’t want him to. Not this time, anyway. He’d already done so much, gone out of his way, and made sacrifices many, many times but, unlike five years ago, I had most things figured out now. Somehow.
“Don’t do that, Liam.”
“Don’t do what?”
“The ‘hm’ thing.”
“What ‘hm’ thing?”
I scoffed. “The overprotective-worried-cousin thing? Look, I know you haven’t been around for a while now and hardly ever keep in touch—which I completely blame you for—but I swear, I’m fine. I didn’t call you to have you worry about me.”
He chuckled softly and exhaled. “The famous Juliana Blair line: don’t worry about me. I’m fine, I’ll be fine.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true,” I blurted out, pausing and glancing over my shoulder at the building behind me. High glass windows, yellow lights dangling from the ceiling, smiling customers and soft music could be heard through the closed doors. “Got a waiting job at Le Coin Brulet. Decent pay and friendly environment.”
“And you juggle that just fine?”
I dragged a hand down my cheek. “I can’t complain. Might not be the dream job but life doesn’t suck as much.”