Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
The fact is, Lara is mine.
She was fake-promised to me, but we’ll be legally wed, and that means I’m the guy–the only guy–who gets to have her.
Is she what I expected? I reply in English, my tone dry. “Not really.”
Her pale skin flushes pink. At least I know she speaks English.
I hold out my hand. “Come. We have a marriage license to pick up.”
Lara
Benjamin Baranov doesn’t look as menacing as my father and most of his associates, but I get the feeling he’s deceptively dangerous. Blond hair falls across his forehead in a casual, beachy style, but his eyes, framed by thick, dark brows, appear ancient in his young face.
Dressed in an expensive suit, he doesn’t look like a college student playing dress-up. He wears it with casual elegance. There’s no outward aggression in his posture, just quiet power in the carriage of his shoulders. Like he rules his kingdom with control and cool, calculated decisions.
I clutch my purse closer to me as the flight attendants follow us to Benjamin’s shiny black SUV with the five giant suitcases that contain all the belongings I could pack in the hour my father gave me before bundling me into the private jet.
Just yesterday, I’d come home, exhausted from a day of classes at Académie Internationale des Langues de Paris followed by a three-hour shift for my new internship. The one I spent the first two years of college setting myself up to get. I opened the door to find my father sitting at my kitchen table with a deep frown between his brows.
He hadn’t told me he’d left Moscow to fly to Paris. When I asked if he brought my mom, he said she was too angry with him.
Stupid me.
I’d thought he’d come to tell me they were getting a divorce.
Never in a million years could I have predicted this.
* * *
“Pack your things, Lara. I’m sending you to Illinois.”
I blink. My brain stops computing. “What?”
He nods with a grave look. “There’s something I should have told you a long, long time ago.”
My heart slams against my ribs wildly. “What do you mean? What are you talking about?”
“I entered a contract with Ravil Baranov when you were a baby .”
I stare at him. None of this makes sense. Ravil Baranov is the powerful pakhan of the Chicago Bratva, where my father entered into the brotherhood. They are close associates. Friends.
“You’re to marry his son, Benjamin.”
I sway on my feet, suddenly light-headed. “That…that’s absurd.”
“It was a long time ago, and I didn’t know he intended to hold me to it. Certainly not so soon, while you both are still in school.”
I back away from my dad. “No.” My head shakes on its own accord. “I won’t. I can’t. I just started my internship. I have one more year of school. This is crazy. Why would I marry a stranger?”
“It has to be now. Ravil demanded it, and he’s far too dangerous a man to cross.”
“But…why?”
It just doesn’t make sense. We don’t live in medieval times. The patriarchy is dying. I shouldn’t be chattel in some bratva machination.
“I don’t know why now, only that he has his reasons. I’ve made arrangements for you to transfer to Thornecroft where Benjamin attends school, so you can finish your degree. It’s one of the most prestigious colleges in the world.”
My nose burns. Angry tears flood my eyes. This is insane!
“And if I refuse?” My voice trembles even though I try to keep the words even.
My dad’s expression turns even more grim. “Then none of us are safe.”
How can that be? My father, one of the most powerful men in Russia, can’t keep his wife and daughter safe from the bratva on another continent?
This is worse than my parents divorcing. This is my entire world crumbling to my feet.
No wonder my mom is mad at him.
A tear slides down my face, and I see a flicker of distress on my dad’s face.
He reaches for me, but I pull away.
“I’m sorry, but marrying Benjamin Baranov is the only way to keep you safe.”
* * *
Safe from what?
I have no idea what the Baranovs or the Chicago Bratva want with me. I still can’t believe my father sent me here–alone. I could be walking into a trap. Maybe they intend to hold me hostage to make Papa do what they say.
Maybe it is for marriage, and I’ll be a hostage for the rest of my life. After all, marriage is one of the oldest methods of ensuring an alliance with other kingdoms.
I steal a glance at the bratva prince walking beside me. Will he expect me to share a bed? Consummate this marriage? Bear his heirs?
My stomach, which has been in a tight knot since I found my father in my flat, feels queasy.
Benjamin takes my luggage from the attendants, easily handing the heavy bulk into the trunk of his vehicle. I catch sight of tattoos marking the backs of his hands and wrists. So he’s part of it all. I wondered, because he’s in college, if he was already a member of the brotherhood.