The Bratva's Hostage Bride: Surprise Pregnancy Dark Mafia Romance (VARKOV BRATVA Book 7) by Rina Lawson

Author:Rina Lawson [Lawson, Rina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-04-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10 - Viktor

“At the club, she was Celia Anderson, and the day after, her real name was Camilla Jose. I was like ... what? What the actual fuck? I’m forty, and I still can’t figure women out. Why do they have to be so fucking complicated?”

A few women giggled in the background as if on cue. It was mainly about the newest member at our table, Mark. All the female eyes were on him. They batted their eyelashes, pursed their lips, and invited him to fuck them. I rolled my eyes, at thirty-six I felt too old for this shit. Music. More laughter. Food. And blow jobs in a couple of premium suites upstairs.

Sometimes I loved parties, sometimes I didn’t. This time I fucking hated it. Eighty percent of the women pretended to be horny and eager to get you to a room, while the other twenty stuck to their husbands’ sides because otherwise they would be whipped. Literally.

“I have a theory.” A glass tinkled and the entire table faced Damien—the entire table being Mark, Fedor, and me—listening intently to hear his “theory.” His raven black hair glimmered under the light, his navy blue suit had a smooth shine, and the silver ring on his finger caught a flicker of light when he swirled the vodka in his glass with one leg crossed over the other. He smirked. “I think the problem is that you keep trying to figure them out, and that’s because you’re such an emotional ass. Too rational and interested for your own good.”

Even though I felt like shit, I let out a short laugh and Mark stared at me over the rim of a glass in his mouth. It was never hard to recognize a Varkov when you saw one. Their strong genes and similar traits followed them wherever they went. Like his older brother, Mark had bright blue eyes that constantly earned stares from his admirers, and dark hair that he had combed back. The only difference between them was Mark’s preferences. He was super careful, always reserved, and very detailed. If Damien decided to be reckless and wild, Mark preferred to be rationally reckless. He put a lot of thought into everything.

“You’ve had two women throw themselves at you this evening and why did you turn them down?”

That was my cue. I raised a glass, snagging their attention my way. “One wore mismatched shoes and the other had her lipstick smudged at the side. And you turned down a good fuck because she lied about her name.”

Damien busted into wild laughter, sinking back in his chair with no care about his composure. It didn’t matter; everyone else knew we owned the room. They couldn’t make a move without getting the pass from us first. “I swear, man, sometimes I think you’ve got fucking OCD.”

“It’s not OCD. You sound fucking stupid when you talk like you aren’t educated, Damien.” Unlike us, Mark didn’t find the jeers funny. He crossed a leg and smoothened a crease on his jacket.

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