Forced to Marry the Russian (Nikolai Bratva Brides #2)

Chapter 6 - Lev

Lev loved the defiance in Zia’s eyes.

Most people feared and respected him, given his reputation, but not her. She stood up to him without a single fear and challenged him despite knowing who he was. This stubborn, mouthy woman was going to be his undoing. And getting married to her was definitely going to be fun.

But first, he had to keep her safe.

She peered into his eyes without backing down. Her lips parted as if she wanted to spit back a retort but kept quiet at the sound of footsteps joining them in the kitchen, glaring at whoever it was behind him, she turned her face away and stared aimlessly at the wall.

When Lev turned around, Konstantin was standing behind him; his brows arched as his gaze bounced between him and Zia. “What do you want?” Lev asked.

Konstantin cleared his throat, his eyes finally deciding to settle on Lev. “I found out who was behind the attack. You might want to see this.”

“Wait in my study,” Lev said. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

Konstantin shot Zia one last suspicious glance before he nodded and left the kitchen. It was just like him to suspect everyone, and he wasn’t wrong to do so.

The man has to let loose sometimes, Lev thought.

He dragged his attention to Zia. “Finish your food, and don’t go anywhere. I’ll come back to show you to your room.”

Zia didn’t reply or not, but he took satisfaction in the fact that he knew she’d heard his order loud and clear.

He straightened up and left the dining to join Konstantin in the study. “Who was responsible for the attack?” Lev asked, closing the door behind him.

Konstantin crossed one leg over the other and leaned back on the mesh chair he’d sat on. “Cillian Moore.”

“Cillian Moore,” Lev echoed. “That arrogant asshole. How did he know when to attack? An insider must’ve given him information on where I would be.”

Cillian was the head of the Irish mafia. He’d been a loyal dog to Dostoevsky, always at his beck and call. It truly wasn’t surprising that Cillian would pull a reckless stunt like he did. In fact, Lev’s older brother and head of the Bratva had been expecting an attack since he defeated Dostoevsky a year ago.

But what happened last night was too sudden and too neat to be a coincidence. Someone must’ve helped him.

“You’re right,” Konstantin inclined. “Someone helped him.”

Rage flared in Lev’s chest. Who would dare cross him like that? Traitors existed in their world, but only a fool would do something as self-destructive as betraying him.

“I checked and found out Cillian bought Darnell’s Event Planning agency anonymously,” he said. “Looks like someone helped him. Someone who knew where you were going to be and at what exact time.”

Lev’s fist clenched, his heartbeat tripping as he boiled with fury. That bastard had been quiet all along because he was planning his next move. Lev had known, but he hadn’t expected it to be so sudden or while he was unprepared.

He had to admit it, Cillian got him good, but that was going to be the last time. He had to prepare, and he had to hunt that Irish bastard down like a fucking animal.

“Where’s the manager of Darnell’s planning?” he asked. “If there’s anyone else who would be so bold, it had to be him.”

“He snuck out of the country last night.” Konstantin’s voice was gruff and laced with fury. “Cillian was quicker than us this time.”

“We have to be quicker from now on.” Lev sat on top of his worktable and thought for a while. “I’m getting married tonight. Our hunt begins after.”

Konstantin shot him a disbelieving look. “You’re fucking kidding me, aren’t you?”

“I love to joke, Man. But not with thins as serious as marriage.” Lev didn’t care about Konstantin’s approval. He worked for him, not the other way around.

“There’s one more person you’re not suspecting,” Konstantin said, nodding toward the door. “That girl. Has it occurred to you that all of this is a setup? She’s the assistant manager at Darnell’s planning. This could be a trap, and you’re falling into it.”

“It could be, but it’s not.” Lev was sure of that. His intuition told him so, and he always trusted his intuition. That was how he’d made all the right decisions he’d made so far, and ignoring it was the only reason Cillian’s attack worked last night. “She almost died. No one tests their own death to prove a point.”

Konstantin shook his head. “How the hell did you grow up in the mafia when you’re so na?ve, Lev?”

“Call me na?ve one more time, and I’ll show you exactly how na?ve I am.”

If Konstantin weren’t his closest friend and soldier, he’d be dead for even spilling such insults at Lev. One thing he would never do was allow anyone to talk to him in that manner unless it was Mikhail. Ranks and respect mattered in the Bratva. And the only way to earn respect was to inflict fear. A man who was not feared in their world was a nobody.

And Lev was not a nobody.

He was a Nikolai—son of the former head of the Bratva and brother of the current head of the Bratva.

“The Pakhan will never allow this,” Konstantin said. It was something Lev considered his final attempt at trying to change his mind. “He’ll never give you the permission to do this.”

“That is why no one will tell him until I’m married. He’s my brother; I’ll handle him after that.”

Konstantin’s brows creased with worry. “You’ve really lost your mind.”

A smug smile played on Lev’s lips. “I was born a madman. Don’t expect me to be normal. The wedding is happening tonight—arrange for a priest.”

“And her? Does she want this marriage?”

Lev tilted his head. “It doesn’t matter what she wants. I have the final say in this.”

Konstantin looked like he might argue some more, but he nodded and got to his feet. “I’ll arrange for the priest.”

“One more thing, get some men to fix up the mess at the club. Close it down until the damages have been fixed,” Lev ordered.

Cillian would pay for every single penny spent on fixing that club whether he wanted to or not. Lev was going to make sure of it. No one messed with him and got away with it.

After Konstantin left, Lev pulled out his phone from his pocket and called La Femme. It was one of the most expensive boutiques in Chicago, owned by Madame Pruitt, who used to make all his mother’s clothes before her death. She now made clothes for Mira, his older brother’s wife.

“Do you brothers have a personal vendetta against me?” Madame Pruitt nagged as she answered my call. “Your brother called a few minutes ago, booking my entire store for his wife.”

He chuckled.

Madame Pruitt had always treated them like a tired grandmother who’d grown tired of being pestered by her grandsons. She was a sweet old woman who was fun to be around.

When Lev and his brothers were younger, they loved to follow their mother to Madame Pruitt’s boutique. That was how much they loved her.

“I’m a bit disappointed,” Lev said. “I was expecting you would be happy to hear my voice. It’s been a while.”

“It has,” she said, her voice laced with excitement. Even though she wouldn’t admit it, Lev knew she loved hearing from him and his brothers. “I suppose you’re not calling just because you missed this old woman.”

“That’s one reason, but I have another reason for calling.” He pushed one hand into the pocket of his slacks. “I need a fancy white dress for a size six. Given her personality, I don’t think she’ll like anything too extravagant.”

“By white dress, do you mean a wedding dress?” Madame Pruitt asked.

“Yes, I’m getting married tonight.” Lev sighed. He trusted Madame Pruitt not to run off to his older brother and tattle, but he had to make it clear to her that this was a secret and she wasn’t allowed to tell anyone else. “It’s a secret wedding. No one else must know.”

“Does this include your brothers?”

“Especially my brothers.” His other two brothers, Ivan and Adrian, weren’t much of a problem. Although they would mumble their disagreement like Konstantin did, they wouldn’t take it too far.

All it would take from Mikhail, on the other hand, was an order for the wedding not to happen, and Lev would never go against his older brother. If he got married first though, then Mikhail couldn’t do what was already done.

“My lips are sealed,” boy, Madame Pruitt said over the phone. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

Exactly an hour later, Madame Pruitt arrived with her assistants. Some of Lev’s bodyguards helped them push the clothes racks they had with them into the living room.

Zia climbed down the stairs at the sound of voices, giving everyone a suspicious look. When her eyes met Lev’s, she shot venom at him before her gaze bounced back to Madame Pruitt and her many racks of clothes. “What are these?”

Madame Pruitt raised her head and glanced in Zia’s direction. Her face immediately lit up with a smile. “You must be the woman our Lev is getting married to.”

Zia’s face scrunched up, but a polite smile curled her lips. “I’m Zia. Nice to meet you.”

“Zia,” Madame Pruitt repeated. “Such a beautiful name for a beautiful girl like you. You have the body of a model and the face of an angel. You’re going to make a stunning bride, my dear.”

“I would prefer not to be his bride,” Zia mumbled loudly, gritting her teeth.

Madame Pruitt ignored her, scanning the rack for a wedding gown she thought would look best on Zia.

Choosing a simple yet elegant gown in white satin, Madame Pruitt held it up against Zia’s figure, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “This is the one,” she declared with certainty. “It will accentuate your natural beauty and make you shine like a star.”

Zia's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the dress. The silky fabric flowed gracefully as Madame Pruitt placed it on a mannequin, allowing Zia to see how it would look.

“I think it’s beautiful,” Zia admitted. She was beaming with a smile, one that reached her eyes and made her look even more addictive than she already was.

Lev watched quietly from the corner, a rare softness in his gaze as he observed Zia's reaction. He hadn’t seen her look so excited in the hours since he met her, and it intrigued him more than he cared to admit.

“Give it a try, Darling,” Madame Pruitt urged, her voice gentle yet persuasive.

With a hesitant nod, Zia took off the dress shirt that she had on.

Lev had never shared his clothes with anyone before now, not even his brothers. But Zia looked so perfect in it that he didn’t mind. It showed off her slender, long legs and her sexy curves.

Madame Pruitt helped Zia into the wedding dress. As the gown settled on Zia's frame, it was as if the dress had been tailor-made for her. The satin hugged her in all the right places, emphasizing her delicate features and enhancing her natural grace. Zia gazed at her reflection in the mirror, a sense of wonder in her eyes as she took in the sight before her.

Lev couldn't tear his gaze away from her. He had never seen a woman look so breathtaking, so ethereal. A pang of something unfamiliar tugged at his heart as he watched her twirl in the gown at Madame Pruitt’s order.

Madame Pruitt clapped her hands in delight. “My dear, you are a vision! This dress was made for you.”

Zia blushed at the praise, a soft pink dusting her cheeks as she met Lev's eyes in the mirror. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, then as if suddenly remembering getting married to him wasn’t what she wanted, she frowned and looked away.

The disgusted expression on her face made Lev’s heart twist in his chest. Despite himself, he’d planned for this just to be a wedding. He had thought he would let her go after he brought Cillian down.

But another cruel plan blossomed in his head as he looked at her in that white dress. Zia wasn’t just going to be his wife for a short time—he was going to make her his forever.