Page 25 of The Russian’s Forced Bride (Kamarov Bratva #2)

I’m so stupid.

So stupid for believing that just maybe I was wrong about the kind of man Rafael was. He never regarded me with anything other than lust and condescension, and I was a fool for thinking I meant anything special to him.

That man had succeeded at crawling his way into my heart and making sure there was no way I could function without him. He manipulated me into developing these disgusting feelings for him.

I hated him so much, he had no idea. I wished a shard from his wrecked car had pierced his head so he could be gone forever. Mourning him seemed better than having to feel like this.

This was worse than a breakup because I couldn’t run from him even if I wanted to.

I sat curled up on the living room sofa, wearing an oversized hoodie that covered the slight bump that was starting to form on my stomach.

Ever since our little squabble at the hospital, Rafael hardly spoke to me. He had been discharged about a week ago and only came by the house to change his clothes. The tense atmosphere between us filled me with a mixture of dread and rage that was about to explode in a matter of days.

He was out there living his best life while I was cooped up in here, sickly and pregnant for him.

I hadn’t even gone in for work in days because my morning sickness sucked the life out of me, and he didn’t even bother to ask why I had been skipping or why it looked like I could drop dead at any moment.

And since I had been off work since the week began, here I was in the living room, an unfinished toast—which Brandon had made for me—on a plate in front of me while I pretended to be engrossed in the movie Brandon had put on, as he was currently seated across from me, deeply interested in the telenovela drama playing out on the TV screen.

Brandon had literally slipped into my schedule as he had promised me. He skipped classes to cook for me and keep me company, even rubbing my back whenever it felt sore—all things my supposed husband was supposed to do in his stead.

And aside from Brandon, the only other people who knew I was pregnant were Eleanor and Jacob.

They had been ecstatic when they heard. Jacob even joked about being an uncle and promised to fly in when I was due for delivery in a couple of months.

I had also wanted to tell him about Brandon, but then I reckoned that it was Brandon’s story to share and not mine.

I did want to tell Lara about the pregnancy as well, but she was Matvey’s woman, and knowing Lara, she was certainly going to let Matvey know.

It was a Bratva thing. Being pregnant for a Bratva man was like carrying an extraordinary child, she once claimed.

But I didn’t care about its significance.

If Matvey found out, Rafael would too, and I wasn’t sure I wanted him to know I was pregnant anymore.

My subconscious self even dared me to run away so I could leave Rafael devastated, but deep down, I knew he wouldn’t even care if I was gone. I was just his little sex toy. One he could easily replace.

With my hands slipping under my hoodie and cradling my belly, I tried to pay attention to the TV, but once again, I blanked out—immersing myself deeply in my thoughts as the voices of the characters faded into the background.

But then, moments after, the snapping of fingers jerked me out of the depths of my thoughts.

Brandon appeared before my line of vision, his hands holding on to my free hand as he knelt in front of me, his features screaming in concern for me.

“Are you okay?” he asked, gently rubbing the top of my hand.

And maybe it was because I was pregnant, but just as he asked, my eyes burned with unshed tears. I struggled to hold them back, to go back to being the perfect heiress Father had raised me to be.

An heiress who didn’t cry. An heiress who could always put up a front no matter what situation I was in.

But I couldn’t. The traitorous tears slid down my cheeks, and I used the hem of my hoodie to wipe them off.

“It’s fine.” I feigned a laugh. “Must be the pregnancy hormones, and the movie.” I pointed to the now muted TV screen.

Brandon didn’t seem too impressed by my excuse. “That was a comedy movie, Ari. And in case you didn’t notice, I’ve been watching you for about an hour now. You’re not okay.”

His voice was soft, gentle, as though he was talking to a baby. But I didn’t mind it. If anything, it made me feel even more vulnerable. And I found myself stripping my emotions raw in front of him—something I hardly ever did.

“He doesn’t look at me anymore.” The tears were dripping onto my hoodie now like waterworks.

“He’s always busy, and he doesn’t tell me anything when I ask.

And then this house just suffocates me when he’s not in it, and I’m scared.

I’m scared that he’ll wake up one morning and won’t want me anymore. ”

I had become obsessed with that man, and at least—even though Rafael didn’t love me—he saw me as valuable, and I wanted to keep it that way. I wanted him to crave me like the air he breathed.

I actually wanted him to love me. As crazy as that sounded.

But Rafael Kamarov was a man incapable of love. He thrived on violence. He thrived in the empire he and his generations had built through blood and secrets over the years.

I knew a man like that couldn’t love me.

Brandon’s eyes softened at me in pity, and I hated it. But then I let him hold me as he opened his arms wide to hug me. The embrace was filled with warmth that seeped into my heart as he rubbed my back.

“You’ll be fine, Ari. I promise you,” he assured me.

And after pulling away from the hug, his hands still holding me, he said, “Why don’t you divorce the piece of shit and come live with me?

We obviously can’t get married, ’cause that would be incest, but I bet I’d make a way better husband than him. ”

I found myself laughing, and a weight lifted off my heart and shoulders.

It was a tempting offer, but Brandon’s apartment was already as miniature as it could get, and I honestly didn’t want to inconvenience him any more than I already had.

But at the same time, I wanted Rafael to feel the rage I was feeling if he eventually got to hear I had moved in with Brandon.

“I’ll think about your offer. Doesn’t sound so bad.” I smiled softly at him, my tears now long forgotten, even though my eyes still felt swollen and sore.

Brandon then took to his feet and helped me up.

“Let’s go see a movie,” he suggested.

But I shook my head. I wasn’t really feeling up for it, and though the nausea that would randomly hit me had reduced over the past few days, I still didn’t trust myself well enough to be out in public. But Brandon was persistent.

“It’ll cheer you up,” he claimed, and then poked my belly. “And I’m sure Lily would want to see a movie too.”

“Lily?” I laughed. “What makes you think I’m going to name my child that?”

Brandon shrugged. “I just think it’ll suit her. And if it’s a boy, you can just call him Brandon 2.0.”

I scoffed. There was possibly no way I would ever name my child Brandon .

But my face genuinely lit up this time, and though I honestly wasn’t in the mood to leave the house, I figured just watching one movie with Brandon wouldn’t be too bad. It was already fast approaching evening, but it wasn’t like Rafael would be home anyway.

And even if he did get to find out I had left the house, he could blow his fucking head off in anger for all I cared.

So instead of moping around, I decided I’d rather spend the rest of my day having fun with my brother.

“Whatever you say.” I nodded giddily. “I’ll go shower, and then we’ll go see that movie.”

Brandon grinned almost too widely. “Perfect.”

***

The movie wasn’t anything over the top.

Brandon had chosen a psychological thriller centering around a woman who fell in love with her abuser, and at the end of the movie, the woman jumped off a cliff, ending her life. The movie had been graphic, yet compelling enough that I watched it till the end with my hands wrapped around Brandon’s.

And though I didn’t want to admit it, leaving the house actually worked its magic in lifting my mood. There were still times when I randomly thought of Rafael, but the image of him would quickly vanish because Brandon kept checking on me every now and then.

After the movie, Brandon and I had dinner at his usual favorite place. I didn’t eat much and only drank a can of soda Brandon had gotten me.

But then the clouds began to darken with each passing second, reminding me that I needed to head home.

As much as I wanted to rebel, if Rafael caught me out spending so much time with Brandon, I was sure he’d throw a fit, and I couldn’t stand Brandon being hurt because of me.

I had taken a liking to him, which was weird. I wasn’t one to easily like people, but I guess Brandon was just charming like that.

After our meal at the La Cuisine restaurant, we headed toward his truck parked at its usual spot in the parking lot. The night sky was overshadowed by the city lights flickering about, replacing the stars in the sky, and the moon remained blanketed in the dark clouds, hiding.

A gust of wind suddenly picked up as we approached Brandon’s truck, and I hugged myself tightly, trying to keep warm even with Brandon’s jacket, which he had lent to me.

Brandon’s voice filled the air in excitement as he gave his take on the movie we had watched earlier, but his words seemed to sound like an echo at the back of my mind.

“Did you see her face when he strangled her?” I heard him ask. “Fucking terrific,” he exclaimed, and I chuckled lightly.

My brother sure could be scary sometimes, but I figured everyone I knew had nuts loose in their heads.

Though as he kept talking, I couldn’t help but feel oddly lightheaded.

It wasn’t the usual nausea feeling that crushed my entire system.

This feeling was like being buzzed. It made me both hyperaware of the smallest details, yet oblivious to what was right in front of me.

I even almost slipped, and I would’ve knocked my face against Brandon’s windshield.

I didn’t want to bother Brandon anymore, so I just kept humming in response to whatever he was saying as I successfully slipped into the passenger’s seat of his truck while he took his position in the driver’s seat.

During the drive, I noticed Brandon had fallen silent, though the silence between us was a comfortable one. I felt bad that I didn’t ask him any questions about his day, but I felt too tired to engage in a conversation as my eyes tiredly planted themselves on the road.

And then, after saying he needed to grab something from a nearby store, he drove right past the streets that led to my place.

I didn’t think much of it at first—until I noticed we had started to delve into a much darker part of the city.

The streets Brandon rode past were eerily empty, the alleyways illuminated slightly by flickering streetlights.

Loaded, overflowing bins of fermented trash lined the narrow walls, the cobbled walls smeared with a rusty red tint mixed with the oily sheen of wet asphalt in the form of grotesque graffiti paintings.

The sound of dripping water echoed in the distance, and I caught glimpses of hooded men in the alleyways, seemingly watching as wisps of the cigarettes they were smoking floated into the air—the acrid and rancid smell of garbage filling the truck. It almost made me throw up.

I turned to face Brandon, the weakness and sudden fear in my bones intensifying by the second.

“Don’t be scared,” he told me, not sparing me a glance. “I just need to get something. It’ll be quick.”

His car then abruptly stopped the truck just before one of the alleys. The darkness and grimness seemed to be warning me to open the doors and run, but it was already too late. My body was paralyzed, my consciousness slipping in and out.

As my vision blurred, I could see Brandon lighting up a cigarette before finally looking my way. He had a malignant smile that sent a chill crawling up my spine, and just then, the door to the side of the truck I was seated in was jerked open.

I shook my head in panic as the men I had seen huddled in the alleys loomed over me, a knife glinting underneath the moon’s lighting.

I wanted to scream, but my voice remained stifled—stuck in my throat and unable to claw out in the dense atmosphere. The last thing I saw before I faded out completely was Brandon laughing.

The same hysterical laugh that had warned me at the coffee shop that I couldn’t completely trust him.

It was dark, sinister, and nothing like the one I had gotten used to over the past few months.