Page 20 of Owned Bratva Bride

Silence kept me company as they locked the door. Again.

I remembered pushing people out of my room when I was growing up, just because I wanted quiet. I would steer clear of the parlor when my parents were there because I didn’t want to hear their chatter; I preferred my silence over it.

Who would have thought silence could be so disturbing to me?

This must be what deafening silence feels like.

I walked to the large windows by the bed, looking outside. I didn’t need anyone to tell me the property I was being held in was one massive mansion. My view was clearly not of the front of the property; all I could see was the stretch of greenery. But the height of the walls I could see from my window told me there was at least one floor below mine and another one or two above.

I sighed, leaning against the windows that seemed to be several centimeters thick.

My situation was even worse than I had thought.

I wasn’t just kidnapped by regular kidnappers. These people were a criminal faction that held their own authority. The Russian Mafia.

If the people themselves weren’t terrifying, the reason they took me was. The fact that they waited to do this for years was chilling to the bones; it was more than scary. The painful part was that I got into a trap they had set for someone else. Someone else whose existence I had no idea of until today.

How in the hell was Lucien married?

He never wore a wedding band or even talked about ever being married.

I could still see the first time we met in my mind’s eye.

“Hi, beautiful. May I join you?”

I turned to the side to see the owner of the smooth but confident voice. His black hair shone as brightly as his blue eyes did under the colorful lights.

“Well, there’s no private space here, is there? It’s a rooftop party,” I replied, mirroring his smile.

Even in my heels, I had to look up to meet his gaze.

His black suit sharply contrasted with his white shirt and clearly showed it was tailored to fit his muscular frame.

“You could say that. But, from where I stood, I could see that you owned the whole space around you with your royal elegance.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“And your laugh is even more beautiful than your silence,” he complimented before taking my left, manicured hand in his. “Nice to meet you, beautiful. Lucien Navarro.”

Then he lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it.

“Are you always this forward?”

“I wouldn’t risk any man sweeping you off your feet. You’ve not told me your name, beautiful.”

“Marielle.”

“Marielle…” he repeated. “I can’t think of anything more gorgeous.”

I chuckled before lifting my glass to my lips. He did the same.

He was smooth.

As we casually talked, his eyes lingered on mine like I was the most interesting thing in the room—or, on the roof. His attention and charm didn’t make me feel sick like those of other guys. It probably had a lot to do with the fact that he was an older guy with a mature demeanor.

The party was almost over, and I told him I was going to leave.

“When can I see you again? I’d do anything to make it happen, Marielle,” he uttered as he walked me down the stairs.