Page 42 of The Bratva's Forced Bride

“Do you understand the gravity of the situation now, Addi? You are nothing more than another victim on his list. After your wedding, he would have divorced you soon enough to get his hands on your fortune.”

My hands trembled on the phone, and I struggled to find my voice. “I’ll call you back.”

I hung up, slid to the floor, and hugged my knees to my chest as tears blinded me. I wanted to deny it, I wanted to scream–not true. The pieces of the puzzle that were being put together made sense. And the information came from a credible source. Mr. Robert worked with my father for the longest time. He was in charge of operations, and my father trusted him.

He wouldn’t lie about something as grave as this. What did he have to gain by defaming Logan? Absolutely nothing.

I wiped my nose.

I understood Mark’s thirst for revenge. I knew why he was out to get him, to make him pay with blood. Logan had betrayed one of his own, his family, and they were unforgiving. A sob escaped me as I remembered Maria’s concern.

Five months doesn’t sound like such a long time to me, to get to know someone who bumped into you on your way out of an elevator.

I cried more. I wish I had listened. I should have investigated him. All of this was my fault. How could I have been so stupid? So blind?

My heart not only cracked, but it also shattered into a million pieces.

You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my entire life.

Liar!

He’d been married. Married! He had an extensive list of women before me. How many of them had he said those exact words to?

Nothing in this world is too much or too good or too beautiful for you. You deserve so much more, Addison Mae.

He played with my heart, took my affection for granted, and made a mockery of me.

My beautiful angel.

Liar! Liar! Liar!

The pain in my heart soon turned into something much more dangerous, more poisonous. It burned inside me like a red-hot furnace, and my pain turned into rage.

If I had loved Logan Mercer a hundred times before, I hated him now. I hated him a thousand times more.

Sniffling, I rose to my feet. What was the saying about revenge?

It was best served cold.

Chapter 17 - Mark

“Every strike brings me closer to the next home run.” – Babe Ruth.

Addison got out of the car, dressed in an ugly green sweater and black skinny jeans. Her hair blew in the wind and a hand clutched her arm. With a scowl, she lowered her head and stared at the driver.

A few words were exchanged before her head came up again. My men surrounded the silver Toyota, guns pointed at the windshield, and her eyes met mine.

They were hard. Angry. In all the days I’d spent with her, I’d never seen her in such a state.

I grinned, but she didn’t even blink. She just stood there, her eyes fixed in the distance and her lips drawn into a grim line. It was like looking at a statue that had no soul or feelings. The look on her face made me angry. Something stirred in me, I cared for her more than I realized.

This made me think about the message she had sent, revealing her current whereabouts with the idiot Logan and his escape plan. Her help had been unexpected; and though her personal reasons remained unknown, her actions were commendable.

The driver’s door opened and the gaunt blond—also in a horrible green sweater—stepped out. Ignoring my men, he slammed the door shut, walked past, and stood next to Addison. He rolled his shoulders, his eyes blazing.

“We meet again, Varkov. But I can’t say I enjoy a second of it. You must understand that every time I see your face it makes me sick to my stomach.”

I rested on the hood of my car and folded my arms. “I could say the same thing about you, motherfucker. You owe me.”