Page 41 of The Bratva's Forced Bride

“I’m all ears.”

Mr. Robert sighed, and the heaviness in his voice alarmed me. Something was wrong and my mind went into overdrive, thinking that the news had something to do with my father’s health. Panic rose in me, and I fumbled with a button on my blouse; the tension dug deeper into me.

“Are you sure he’s getting better? You can tell me the truth. I can handle it. But don’t lie to me; I need to know what’s going on with dad.”

Another sigh sounded and the sound of shuffling pants and feet followed it. “Addison, you must understand that I cannot say anything until I am sure no one is with you. Confirm when you're out of earshot.”

I peeked over my shoulder again and strangely enough, Logan was sleeping on the bed, sitting up. He looked so tired and peaceful, and I wanted to make sure not to wake him. I tiptoed to the door, carefully took the key, and went into the creepy hallway, in the basement of the building.

“You can talk.” I was sure the ripples in my voice conveyed how nervous I was.

“Look,” his tone dropped. “What I’m about to tell you now, it’s important you think carefully and consider your next step wisely. And try to listen with your head and not your heart. Don’t panic.”

I was already in a panic. But I nodded, even though I knew he couldn’t see me.

“Talk to me. I’m trying to keep a cool head.”

“It’s about your father’s health. I know I didn’t say anything before, but I didn’t want to worry you. It was strange that he suddenly became ill. You know your father, Addi; he had the strength of an ox. I did some private investigations and found out that he was given a drug that messed up his mind. His medication was changed.”

“What?”

Shock seized me, held me by the throat, and squeezed until I had no oxygen left. My eyes stung and I clutched my chest, feeling strength slip from me. “Messed with his mind, mix-up medications? What are you talking about? Who would do that to him and why?”

“You know, your father does have enemies. He deals with dangerous men, you know that; and that’s one reason that propelled me to dig deeper. My first thought was that a politician had a hand in it. But I was wrong.”

I clamped my hand over my mouth. “So, you know who did this? You know who wants my father dead?”

There was an eerie silence on the phone before he took a deep breath and continued. “I think so. Mr. Logan Mercer has a connection to this situation. There is a high probability that he was directly involved in the deterioration of your father’s condition.”

“No.” I shook my head and chortled. It was impossible. It had to be another Logan Mercer. Not my Logan. “Tell me you’re bluffing, Mr. Robert. This is a joke, right? A very mean joke. I mean it must be because my father was already sick before Logan met me. He couldn’t have been connected.”

“That was the same thought I had. It didn’t make any sense, so I pressed further and ran a background check on him. Turns out, he was married ...”

The world around me came crashing down and my heart sank with it. Mark’s voice came back louder than ever.

Your fiancé? He’s no fucking saint. I bet he didn’t tell you about his previous marriage.

It couldn’t have been a coincidence that Mr. Robert and Mark—who don’t even know each other—said the same thing about the same person.

Robert wasn't done talking yet.

“Her name was Irina. Irina Varkov. Beautiful, and young. A respected woman in society, or so it seemed to the naked eye. Behind the scenes, she has connections to the notorious Bratva, the Russian mafia, a hard-core organized crime gang involved in so many atrocities. Anyway, he married her, claimed he loved her and divorced her eleven months later. In the process, he took more than half of her fortune. If you ask me, I’d say that was a stupid move. If you mess with a mafia princess, you mess with the whole gang.”

“I know you love my father as much as I love him, but don’t play with me like this, I beg you. What you're saying can’t be true.”

“Listen with your head, Addi, not with your heart. The point is that Irina Varkov wasn't the only one. He has a long history of extortion, especially of wealthy women. Logan Mercer is a con artist. You were even lucky he used his real name with you. To some, he was Martin, Jace or Conrad. As for your father, he knew him before he met you.”

My throat burned even hotter as I gripped the wall for support. “But that’s impossible. We met—”

“On the way out of the elevator in one of your father’s hotels. It wasn’t a coincidence, Addi. He knew who you were; he knew who your father was and, I don’t know how, but he managed to get close enough to tamper with his medications. He planned everything; charm Archie Mason’s daughter and get closer to her. With your father at the brink of death, who’s going to get the inheritance? You are.”

“I am,” we whispered at the same time, as the dots connected.

I remembered that day at the hotel. After he bumped into me, it wasn’t an ordinary apology that followed. He flashed his charming smile and offered to buy me coffee. I refused but he insisted. And so it began; from one coffee date to the next. Then, a beautiful engagement ring and the big question, five months later.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I tried to process the reality of the situation. Thoughts of all the memories we had shared flooded my mind. The laughter on our road trips, the late-night conversations and the devotion and support he had given me all this time.

And now, he was linked to my father’s illness? He’d conned me. Used me?