Page 50 of The Bratva's Forced Bride

“Men like him can marry women like me, Dad.” I held his hand, interlaced our fingers, and gave him a smile that I knew turned his heart to jelly. “Mark may not be an accountant or a lawyer, but he’s a businessman. Not all his dealings are dishonest. He’s intelligent, loyal, and has a heart —even if it’s made of granite and ice.”

This caused a smile to appear on my father’s face. “I'm just looking out for you. I wouldn’t be able to bear it if anything happened to you.”

I knew how much my father loved me and cared for me. But even then, it was undeniable that Mark was protecting me and our unborn baby with all his might. It was like a fact that hovered in my subconscious: Mark would never hurt me.

“I know. But I want this; I want to marry him. And I know it doesn’t make sense to you or to me, but nothing else feels right. We might be the most unusual couple, but I have a deep conviction inside me. Like I belong out there, with him.”

Suddenly there was silence in the ballroom and a door opened at the front. From where we stood, I spotted him over the heads of the crowd, and my heart flipped in my chest.

The suit, impeccably tailored, hugged his powerful frame. His presence dominated the room. He stood tall and statuesque, like a Greek god. A very handsome and sexy god.

With his razor-sharp cheekbones, styled dark hair that touched his collar, and one hand tucked in his pocket—as always—he combined strength, elegance, and sophistication. While Yuri focused on his phone, his eyes scanned the room. And I knew who he was searching for.

And when his eyes found mine, flames danced below my belly, and I smiled. The orchestra started up again, but I didn’t take my eyes off him. We shared a steamy eye contact and remained hooked, like two relentless drug addicts.

“You love him.”

Startled, I faced my father. “What?”

He motioned to Mark, who was standing on the stage and just glanced at his watch, and I couldn’t help but smile even more and almost laugh out loud. Mr. Precision, I was sure he was timing me.

“The way you look at him, and your cheeks are on fire.” I blushed and patted my hand with an exhale. “I trust you; I know you’re making the right decision. And if it is him your heart has chosen, I’ll support it.”

I could barely hear him after the words had left his lips. I hadn’t given it much thought. Love is a strong word, I knew Mark desired me, my body, but would he be able to love me as a whole person? Could I love him? After my last disastrous relationship, I wasn’t even sure what love really meant. What we had was enough, I was content with the level of affection he gave me.

Mr. Robert signaled us. It was time to walk down the aisle. With tears on my eyelids, I hugged my father one last time and he kissed me on the temple.

“Te amo, mi amore.” [I love you, my love]

****

I vow to stand by your side, to protect you with my life, and to make every one of your dreams come true.

He said it with intense passion, holding my gaze and my hands as he emphasized every word that came out of his mouth. Then he sealed it with a fierce kiss that marked me. Proclaiming that I was his.

We stood together at the reception, hand in hand, as we worked the room; greeting everyone he introduced as an important guest.

My feet hurt, but he held me tight and gently rubbed the small of my back. When I looked up, startled by his tenderness, he stared straight ahead with a poker face.

“Let’s introduce you to the rest of the family,” he said softly and led me to a group of people standing by a high table; the men, all tall and well-built, dressed alike in matching black suits, while the women flashed pretty colors, all except one.

She had fiery red hair and wore a black dress with a thigh-high slit and a long back neckline that revealed flawless fair skin. And when she turned around, the blue in her eyes was as piercing as my husband’s.

His family exuded dominance and intimidation. Everyone else in the room seemed to give them space. No one wanted to cross their parts. I rubbed my arm; anyone could feel the chill from across the room.

“Damien, Viktor ..." he called out and the rest of his words rolled out in fluent Russian. They exchanged glances, and the taller one with the dark eyes and the tattoos on his neck, whose name was Viktor, grinned after glancing at me.

More words went back and forth, and I couldn’t understand a word. Then, out of nowhere, Mark turned to me and kissed me with a clown's grin on his face.

I was stunned. And even more so when Damien stretched out a hand.

“It’s nice to finally meet the woman who managed to win my brother’s heart.”

My cheeks flushed and I took his hand in a firm grip.

Damien was nice, friendly and had a witty sense of humor. The resemblance between him and Mark was striking. Although Mark reminded us of their differences as soon as he opened his mouth. He was sharper, funnier and had a wry sense of humor.

Viktor, on the other hand, was gruff but also had funny traits. I learned that his patience had been thinned years ago, before he became the boss of the business. His fuse was always blown. But not with his wife. Never with her or his son. Around them, he was the biggest marshmallow.