Page 8 of Sold to the Bratva (Sinful Mafia Daddies #2)

KATYA

E xactly seven days stand between me and becoming Mrs.Kozlova. One pitiful week until my father’s surname evaporates, my own identity bleeding into Isaac’s like black ink in clear water. The very thought sends bile crawling up my throat.

Marrying Isaac still registers as a death sentence and represents the abrupt end of every dream I ever sketched for myself.

Worse, I don’t loathe the idea quite as fiercely as I did last week.

That’s catastrophic, because my entire escape plan hinges on making Isaac so miserable he pulls the plug himself.

He’d be the villain while I played the dutiful, wounded, jilted bride.

Father couldn’t blame me for a shattered alliance.

I’d just shrug, insist I tried and obeyed, and walk away squeaky-clean.

We could all walk away scot-free and pretend the whole mess never happened, until Isaac’s warning from last night ricochets through my skull. Papa could still marry me off to someone far worse.

The worst thing Isaac can do is prove he isn’t a monster. A low heat simmers between us, one I’d love to ignore, yet he sparks sensations I can barely name.

He’s clever, composed, and, when it suits him, irritatingly charming.

Not one of my antics has rattled him, to my endless annoyance.

He pushes back just enough to keep me off-balance without breaking me.

He even claims he likes my fire, unlike Papa, who’s forever hunting for the nearest extinguisher.

I still want to hate him, yet every day closer to the wedding makes that desire slip through my fingers.

I haven’t breathed a word of any of this to Evie. At the moment she’s holding up a mermaid gown with a plunging neckline, crystals winking across the bodice, her brows arched in exaggerated admiration.

I gag theatrically. “I’d rather be arrested.”

She sighs, drops the hanger back on the rack, and snaps her fingers as if it’s a viable plan. “Hey, that might be your ticket out of this marriage. Or you could run away and start a residency in Vegas.”

“Alas, I can’t sing,” I reply with mock regret. “But seriously, that thing is hideous. I’d never walk down the aisle in it.”

Evie crosses her arms and glowers at the sea of white surrounding us. “I don’t know what you would get married in, Katya. You’ve turned down every single dress here.”

“Because I don’t want any of them.”

She plants her hands on her hips. “You’re the one who insisted we come shopping. I’d have been happier taking you to a strip club or throwing you a lingerie party.”

“But then what would I wear down the aisle?”

She snorts. “The lingerie, obviously.”

I flop onto the velvet couch, fingers tunneling through my hair. Finding a wedding dress suddenly feels more impossible than I ever imagined.

The boutique is gorgeous with soaring ceilings, muted lighting, and the constant perfume of peonies. When I was little, this was exactly the kind of place I dreamed of visiting with my mother.

We used to binge wedding reality shows, the two of us glued to the couch while model-tall brides twirled for their mothers’ approval. I’d picture stepping out of a dressing room in the perfect gown, her eyes going glassy with pride. But she’s not here.

Not one of these dresses is perfect. I don’t want any of them, or the entire wedding for that matter, because I’m not marrying a man I chose. I’m exhausted by the pretense that I have any control over my life.

Evie plops down beside me, kicks off her shoes with a groan, and says, “Okay, spill.”

I blink at her. “What?” I honestly have no idea what she’s fishing for.

“You’ve been weird all morning. You’re snappier than usual, and you actually looked like you were trying not to cry when that woman asked if you wanted to try on the beaded gown.”

I look away, swiping at the traitorous tears. Evie’s posture softens immediately.

“Oh, sweetie,” she murmurs, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Talk to me.”

“I just…” I exhale and admit, “I wish my mom could see me. I wish she were here to tell me what to do. If she were, maybe I’d have had a fighting chance of turning down this wedding.”

Evie stays silent for a full minute, then pulls me closer and squeezes hard.

“I think she’d be proud of you,” she says quietly. “Even if you did turn down the sparkly one.”

I let out a shaky laugh that catches in my throat. “You really think that?”

“I know that. All things considered, you’ve handled this with a lot of grace. You could’ve treated Isaac much worse than you have.”

I close my eyes and lean into her. It’s the first moment all day I can breathe. Eventually Evie pulls back and gives me a look.

“So, are you ready to admit you kind of want to marry Isaac?”

I freeze. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb,” she says. “I see it.”

“See what exactly?”

“You blushed earlier when you were talking about him. You like him!”

I roll my eyes. “You’re way off-base,” I say. “He’s as insufferable as ever. That hasn’t changed.”

“Maybe you like insufferable,” she says thoughtfully. “Or maybe you’re just searching for a reason to hate him because your dad is forcing this, but secretly you have a huge lady-boner for Isaac.”

I press my lips together and say nothing at all, which only causes her to grin like the cat who ate the canary.

“I knew it,” she crows, victorious. “You so want him.”

I cross my arms. “So what? That doesn’t mean I like him.”

She shrugs. “That’s fair. I don’t like a lot of the guys I sleep with. But you’re stuck with him unless he decides otherwise. In sickness and in health, till death do you part. So what’s the plan?”

I hesitate. “I’ll keep pushing, finding ways to make this difficult. Annoying him didn’t work, but everyone has a line you shouldn’t cross. I’ll find his and cross it until he breaks.”

“And exactly how sure are you about this plan?” she asks, eyes narrowed.

“Not very,” I admit.

She cocks a brow, smirking. “Did something happen between you two?”

I shift on the cushion, suddenly cold. I’ve never told her about the night he slipped into my room and how intimate and intense it felt. I woke up ashamed for yielding to him, but now I see how effortless his presence is, and that’s far scarier than simple lust.

“Not that I’m aware of,” I lie, looking down at my hands.

She tsks. “You’re a terrible liar. And you’re blushing again.”

“Shut up, I am not!” I protest, sneaking a glance at the nearest full-length mirror.

“Like you said, Isaac has a button you can push, you just have to find it. Maybe you should use every tool at your disposal.”

She wiggles her brows, clearly plotting something extra-suggestive. Knowing Evie, she’s already scripting half a dozen psychological games to keep Isaac on his toes. The thought excites me, though I’d never confess it. To everyone else, the idea of sex with Isaac still repulses me.

That’s why he’ll never see it coming. It would blindside him and rattle his perfect composure. Maybe I really can win, whatever winning ends up looking like. I rise, a fresh spark burning in my chest.

Evie grins. “You have a dangerous look in your eyes.”

I return her grin, victorious. “I’m going to destroy him.”

“Better pick a dress first.”

I glance at the rows of gowns and sigh. “Fine. But if you make me wear tulle, I’m calling off the wedding myself.”

I’m two seconds from declaring the day a bust when my gaze snags on a dress hanging alone at the back of the rack. It’s no shade of white that has ever existed and had no frills, no beads, nothing remotely bridal. It’s wicked, and it’s perfect.

I smirk and start walking toward the rack.

“Katya…” Evie murmurs, scandal tinting her voice as she spots my target.

“I’m just looking,” I say, all faux innocence.

“Uh-huh.”

I reach the dress and trail my fingers over the silk. It feels decadent and dangerous, everything my father hates. Isaac definitely won’t expect it coming down the aisle. With any luck he’ll be horrified. Game on.

A saleswoman spots me and approaches, her polite smile barely masking confusion.

“Would you like to see something else in white, Miss Belova?”

“No,” I say, still staring at the dress. “I want this one.”

She blinks. “That one’s not from the bridal collection.”

“I gathered.”

“It’s meant for a black-tie gala.”

I turn to face her and smile sweetly. “Well then, good thing I’m about to host one.”

She frowns. “But your wedding?—”

“This is the one I want.”

The poor woman has no idea how to respond. Her gaze darts between me and the dress, as though deciding whether to encourage me or call for backup.

Evie sidles up next to me, barely holding in her laugh. “You heard the bride. Ring it up.”

The woman hesitates, then nods. “Of course. Right this way.”

As we wander toward the counter, Evie whispers, “This is going to be so good.”

I fish Isaac’s black card from my purse and flick it like a victory flag.

The saleswoman launches into the checkout process, and I watch the numbers climb with smug satisfaction. Isaac said I had carte blanche, but he probably didn’t expect me to weaponize it this fast.

The card reader beeps. The instant I slide the card home, my phone rings.

I glance at the screen.

Papa.

Evie arches a brow. “Think he’s got cameras in here?” she asks, only half joking.

I answer, putting him on speaker. “Hi, Papa.”

“How’s everything going, sweetheart? Are you settling in all right? Is Isaac treating you well?”

I lock eyes with Evie, grinning wickedly. “Everything’s going great, Papa. Evie and I are picking out my wedding dress. I can’t wait for everyone to see me in it.”

Evie snorts, and I cut her a warning look.

Papa sounds delighted. “That’s the spirit, honey. I knew you’d come around. See? I told you this wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Oh, it’s going to be unforgettable,” I say.

The machine beeps again positively, showing the transaction approved. The saleswoman slips the dress into a thick, dustproof garment bag and hands it over, still looking dazed.

Evie coughs into her hand, trying not to laugh.

“Good girl,” Papa says proudly. “I’ll let you go. Have fun shopping.”

“Will do.”

I hang up, slide the card back into my purse, and sling the dress bag over my shoulder.

I flash a venomous smile. “He’s going to be blown away. I just know it.”

Evie’s grin mirrors mine. “You’re evil.”

“I prefer unpredictable.”

She links her arm with mine as we head for the door. “Whatever you are, I cannot wait to see Isaac’s face when he lays eyes on that dress.”

I adjust my sunglasses and step out into the sun, already imagining it.