Page 11 of The Bratva's Forced Bride
“Stop being so fucking dramatic,” I growled, and she flinched. “Your fiancé? He’s no fucking saint. I bet he didn’t tell you about his previous marriage. Or did he?”
All the color drained from her pretty face. She blinked and just sat there, visibly trying to process the information. I saw the battle, the questions, and the considerations.
She leaned forward, tilting her head to the side. “What?”
It was a whisper, borne from the deepest point of disbelief. Then, as if to prove my point, she shook her head and laughed. It was shaky and her eyes teared up, but the smile stuck.
“You should know, you have a terrible sense of humor. Logan … previously married?” She scoffed. “As if. My Logan wouldn’t do that to me. He wouldn’t lie or keep something that important from me. That means the only one lying here is you. My Logan would have told me if he’d been married before.”
My Logan …Fuck me!
My jaw ticked and I narrowed my eyes at her, hoping she would feel the burn of my gaze.
It was annoying to watch someone so young, and sensible, sticking up for that piece of shit. The affection she had was overwhelming, even blinding. And I could see why she saw past his flaws.
She was fucking in love.
“Let me tell you something: your Logan doesn’t give a fuck about you. Otherwise, he would hardly have fled so quickly and left you in the claws of the bad guys.”
The smile slid off her face and the quiet, reserved Addison—the real one, that existed beneath the confident and defiant façade—cracked through.
“That’s a lie.” She whispered.
“Strike one.” I inched forward, close enough to see the black specks in her Bambi eyes and feel her warm breath on my face. “You’re nothing here, understand? Lying to you would be an utter waste of my time. Your fiancé is nowhere in my facilities. He’s gone. Escaped. Vanished. Comprender?”
She ignored me and stared at the window instead. Her lips were drawn into a fucking sweet pout, her eyes glazed over and her hands trembled.
“But how?”
Wasn’t it obvious?
“Skills?”
Her head turned and she looked at me with a blank expression. When I read the unasked question, it wasn’t even funny. I massaged my forehead. Was it possible that this girl bribed her professors and bought her degree from the University? Was she just that inexperienced in life?
“Don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out yet?”
“It’s just… It’s not possible.” She swallowed and, I swore, that if she cried, I was going to get sick. Seeing such a sorry state was worse than enduring the stains of Ruslan’s blood on the carpet.
“It is, and that is the reality. Logan’s not an honorable man and he’s not who you think he is—not that I have the time to start giving you a background story. I’ll save that for another day. He’s a fucking snake and has some great fighting skills hidden under his false innocence. That’s why he was able to pull a few tricks and slip through our fingers while we were busy with you.”
“I don’t care what you say. He’s going to come back for me,” she snapped back. “I know he will. He has to.”
The despair in her voice sounded louder than thunderbolts and a single tear rolled down her cheek. The reason for her sudden silence was her realization of how lonely she was. With Archie in hospital, her best friend miles away, and her fiancé on the run, her little circle had fallen apart.
Archie’s condition was delicate. Hearing I had his daughter would be enough to send him straight to the grave, and that’s why I knew that information was never going to reach him. As for her relatives, it was no secret that Archie's siblings had their eyes on his wealth. It had even been rumored once that they’d attempted to poison him.
I rolled my eyes. “If it’s any consolation, you’re not a missing person. Those who care about you have been informed that you’re on vacation.”
She glowered. “Who would even believe that?”
“Maria did.”
That shut her up and smothered the fire in her eyes.
“And there’s no way our narrative will change, even in the slightest. Logan wouldn’t dare publicly say anything about us, the Bratva. No one has the guts to. And he knows it will further complicate things. We’ve got everything under our control; the media, the fucking government … You name it. So, if you think your cowardly fiancé is running to the FBI to save you, you’re wrong, princess.”
“Don’t call me that.”