“I’m just finishing up at another client, then I’ll come to you,” he replies curtly. “I’m not sure how long this will take.”
“Thank you, it doesn’t matter what time it is, just come here after,” I say, before ending the call.
I want to get the marriage documents signed tonight. No matter how late he comes over, I just want it done.
Pacing in the foyer, my eyes are on the open front door, eager for Bardil’s arrival.
When his car lights shine down near the front gate, I force myself to take a deep breath, slow down, and focus. My adrenaline is on its own mission, though.
Bardil parks at the bottom of the steps, and I watch him climb out of the car and walk around to the trunk.
“She put up a pretty decent fight,” Bardil says, sounding impressed. “I tied her hands but didn’t have time to get her feet too.”
“Let’s get her inside as quickly as possible,” I reply.
Bardil tugs the trunk open, and I hear a scream from her and a grunt from Bardil as she kicks him in the chest.
There is a tussle that ends with her being flung over his shoulder. He’s shaking his head as he walks toward me, up the steps to the front door.
“Like I said. She’s a fighter,” he grumbles.
I lead the way into the living room and gesture for him to put her on the sofa.
While he’s doing so, I start talking.
“You’ll find that things will go a lot smoother if you do as you’re told,” I tell her.
Bardil steps away, and my eyes fall onto the beautiful girl sitting in front of me, bewildered, angry, her hair a wild mess around her face, and her eyes piercing daggers into me.
It’s not Nikita Abashin.
Anger spikes through me like venom, and I grab Bardil’s arm to pull him to the side. In hushed tones, I growl, “That’s Stefania Shevchenko,notNikita Abashin!”
“Fuck,” Bardil mutters.
“Fuck? Are you kidding me? You took the wrong girl, and all you can say isfuck?” I whisper harshly.
I should never have trusted him with this. It’s so typical of my brother to fuck up something so fucking simple.
My heart is beating a million miles an hour. My head is swimming with thoughts. But it’s too late now. I still have to go ahead with the same plan. It’s not like I can just send her home with an apology.
Chapter 2 - Stefania
The two men are clearly having some kind of argument in the corner near the closed patio doors. I sigh loudly, rolling my eyes and wiggling my wrists to test the restraints, but they’re tied tight enough to hurt, and there’s no chance of getting out of them.
At this point, I don’t even care. I mean, I care that they’ve totally ruined my night and my dress. I care that they made me scuff my clean white sneakers. I care that this is all a big waste of time, and that I got sucked into some new Bratva business bullshit that I don’t even know about.
But I’m not scared. Sure, I got a fright when that oaf grabbed me. And I’m pissed off that this is happeningagain. But at this point, this type of shit seems normal. Another day in the life of a Bratva Princess. Someone gets pissed off, kidnaps a girl, demands some shit, and the girl’s family comes to rescue her. Done.
My brothers will be here in no time to take me back home, and these assholes wouldn’t dare hurt me because they know how powerful my family is in this city.
But why is it that the women always get the brunt of whatever war is going on between the men? Why don’t they kidnap one of my brothers instead of me?
Because they think I’ll be an easier target? Meek? Mild? A scared little girl who will cower and obey their commands? Pfft. They have another thing coming.
I sit fuming, watching their argument and trying to pick up on anything they’re saying, but they’re talking too softly. The fight is over, though. Short-lived.
“For fuck sakes, Bardil, I can’t trust you with anything,” the taller man snarls, walking away from their corner and heading back toward me.Oh wow, he’s hot.
