Page 32 of The Bratva Enforcer and His Virgin Bride

Is this how people get kidnapped in New York? For verbal mistakes?

My stomach tightens.

He stops a few feet away from me, close enough that I can see him clearly now. Too clearly.

Sharp features. Cold gray eyes. That same infuriating calm expression that makes it feel like I’m the one reacting incorrectly just by existing near him.

And worse, up close, he’s even more handsome than I remember.

It’s almost unfair.

I hate that my brain notices it at all.

I hate it more that my body does too.

A small shiver runs through me, and I force myself to stand straighter. Show no weakness. My father always told me that.

I draw whatever courage I can find from deep inside my chest and step forward slightly, even though my legs feel like they’ve forgotten how to cooperate properly.

“You,” I say, voice sharper than I feel. “What am I doing here?”

His expression barely changes.

“I think you should sit,” he replies. His voice stays calm, and just arrogant enough to make my irritation spike through the fear. “You’ll need it,” he adds.

My fingers curl slightly at my sides. “I don’t need anything from you,” I snap. “I need answers. Why am I here?”

His lips press together briefly, like I’ve said something mildly inconvenient rather than demanded explanations after being dragged into a penthouse against my will.

Then he points at the nearest couch. “Take a seat.”

My body reacts before my mind fully catches up.

No hesitation. It’s like a desperate need to obey him, to do what he says. For a split second, I almost move. Almost sit. Then I stop myself sharply.

“No.”

His eyes narrow.

And I realize, with a strange flicker of clarity, that he isn’t used to that response.

Not from anyone.

“Sit down, Sofia,” he says.

My breath catches so suddenly it feels like something inside my chest has been yanked tight.

“How do you know my name?” I demand, my voice rising to mask the shock. “Look, if this is about what happened days ago, I’m sorry. Okay? I admit it. I walked into the pavement. Sorry about that. But that’s no reason for you to stalk me, kidnap me, and bring me here. Where even is this place? Let me go.”

My words spill out faster now, fear threading through every syllable.

I need control back.

I need something that makes sense.

He says nothing.

Just watches me.