Page 13 of The Bratva's Forced Bride

I could understand the silence of my father and Maria. Mr. Robert, my father’s assistant, must have gotten the memo about my sudden ‘vacation’ and decided to give my father the version that had been sold—to the public—at least that's what my kidnapper said. But Logan? What was his excuse?

Not even a single word had come from him since he allegedly escaped. Which led me to the next thought: why did he abandon me? It didn’t make any sense. He knew the truth; there was no vacation. My destination had changed, from Chicago to New York, yes. To any other person, it would have sounded like I’d taken a trip, but Logan, he knew what had happened.

I was locked up in a strange house, with a strange man who made my blood run hot and cold at the same time. A man who took the breath from my lungs with a single touch and left trails of fire burning on my skin in its wake. And when I looked into his intense blue eyes, the conflict flashed through me like an angry bird in a cage trying to get out.

A man like Mark Varkov was many things; powerful, determined, terrifying. But above all, intriguing. He confused me. On the one hand, I was convinced that he was a despicable person with nothing but wickedness lurking in his heart, but on the other hand, he seemed normal, like a man who knew what he wanted. His actions were intentional and precise. Just like Logan—when he got me gifts, made late-night trips to my house to keep me company, and complimented even the minutest detail about me.

A while ago Maria asked me if I had a type, referring to men. That day, the first three words I could use to describe my type were: intelligent, intense, and handsome.

She laughed, and I found it funny too. But two of those things drew me to Logan—his intelligence and charm. For me, those were enough. And I fell in love. It was Logan for whom my heart beat, for whom I yearned. Until those piercing blue eyes appeared and scrambled with every rational thought.

Mark came along with an intensity I didn’t bargain for and a seductive charm that swept me off my feet—literally. He was almost unearthly, like a star from the constellations, or a god who had descended from Olympus. His voice sent unwelcome delicious shivers to my toes and his lips on my skin made all the hairs rise. He’d messed around with me and left a burning ache in my lower region after he had left the room. I shook my head and rubbed my arms.

This was wrong, thinking about him as if he were a dreamy lead from a fantasy novel. Nothing about Mark was fantasy. Disastrous, maybe. Violent ...

Even if, technically, he hadn’t hurt me.

But he hurt Logan. Struck him with a gun and made him bleed.

I should hate him. I should hate this silly game he was playing. It was only a game, after all. He’d said it himself; he was going to use me as bait to bring Logan out from hiding.

I have to get out of here.

I hugged myself and buried my face between my knees. Tears stung the back of my eyes and I wanted to bawl my eyes out. None of this made any sense; being captured and locked up for... for what exactly? What did I ever do?

Mark’s voice came back to me.

“I know you are innocent. You’re just a victim of that idiot's mistakes; in the wrong place, at the wrong time. He’s to blame for everything. He was stupid enough to mess with me and the Bratva and put our family’s honor on the line.”

So, this wasn’t about me or anything my family did. I was paying a price for Logan’s sins—without having the slightest knowledge of what those sins were. And I so desperately wanted to find out. What did he do to the Varkovs to make Mark hate him so fiercely? Fiercely enough to want him dead? And the Bratva? The Russian mafia? What could Logan possibly have done to anger them?

I didn’t know Mark long enough—No. I didn’t know Mark at all. My awareness of the type of man he truly was had been limited to the dark sides he’d shown me. But something in those blue eyes revealed a part of him—that he had values—honor and loyalty.

He was a businessman. And like my father, a man like him didn’t waste time or indulge in wild goose chases. If he was after Logan and decided to go through the trouble of keeping me here to get him, then my fiancé might have done something seriously wrong.

And marriage, and divorce?

That sprung out from completely nowhere. Logan was married once before. Married? Thinking about it was like taking a sledgehammer to my chest walls. I could almost hear the pieces shattering like glass. If he had been married before, he would have told me, wouldn’t he?

My mind was a looping playlist of thoughts, and Maria’s brittle tone reechoed from the day at the café. “Five months doesn’t sound like a long time to me to get to know someone who bumps into you on the way out of the elevator.”

She was right; five months was not long enough to get to know someone, I now realized. But all that wasn't enough to destroy the hope that he had a plan. As crazy as it was, I held on to the glimmer of hope that wherever he was, he had a return and rescue plan for me. He would not abandon me. There was no way he was going to.

He loved me.

Logan loved me.

And I loved him too.

But that was what he wanted, wasn’t it? The display of affection, the grand romantic gesture from Logan, swooping in to save the day. This love we shared was a trap in itself, and it didn’t matter that my fiancé might have kept a few secrets from me, I didn’t want him venturing into any danger.

The first tear fell down my cheek and I wiped it away in frustration. I pushed my feet off the soft mattress, walked past a loveseat, and sauntered closer to the window. There was a group of six men posted outside. Two stood at the gates, two at the steps of the main entrance and the other two patrolled the center of the grounds, checking everything, including the cars lined up under a shade structure. I bet if I threw a pin out the window, they’d notice it, like motion detectors.

I sighed.

Who was I kidding? Thinking I could escape this place was a dream and nothing more. Mission impossible.

The mansion—no doubt beautiful, with healthy green trees and open blue sky in sight—was heavily guarded, with more men than I could ever fight. From the outside, the house looked like something out of a storybook, I was sure of it. But inside, it felt like a gilded cage where innocent souls like me were held captive.