Page 3 of Forced & Knocked-Up Bratva Bride
“Dante,È tutto a posto?” Uncle Roberto asked him if everything was alright.
Dad’s fingers tightened around his fork, a glint of anger simmering beneath the surface. “The shipment deal with the Russians has gone sideways,” he said, his voice a throaty growl.
My brothers looked at each other, their expressions darkening, a mix of worry and fear flickering in their eyes.
“That can’t be good,” Uncle Roberto said, sipping his wine.
“Nik Tarasov is threatening me,” Dad added, his grip tightening around the fork. “The son of a bitch thinks threats will get him what he wants.” His voice was laced with contempt. “He forgets who he’s dealing with.”
Even though everyone at the table tried to act all calm and composed, I could still sense the tension in the air. And I knew why.
The name Father had mentioned rang a bell in my head—Nik Tarasov. I knew who he was. Or at least I was familiar with his reputation. Word on the streets was that he was a brute, a cruel Bratva leader known for his strategic thinking and unforgiving nature. Nikita Tarasov was a man of few words, but he had a subtle way of striking fear in the hearts of his enemies.
“Russian pigs,” Marco cursed under his breath.
“They might be pigs, but they’re not the kind of pigs we want to have as enemies,” Uncle Roberto said, setting down his wine glass, his gaze darting toward my father.
“You overestimate those assholes, brother,” Dad said to him, his tone laced with disdain.
“Not all of them,” he replied. “Just one. Nik.”
“Nik is nothing but a violent thug,” Dad blurted out, his voice venomous. “He’s insignificant and unworthy of my attention.” His face contorted into a frown, his breathing ragged.
So much anger for someone so insignificant and unworthy of his attention. Something wasn’t right.
Uncle Roberto stared at his brother for a moment, silent with an unwavering gaze. “You know best, Dante.” He broke eye contact and returned to his meal.
Beneath the calm exterior, I could feel my uncle’s unease, which was strange because he was hardly ever uneasy about anything. My brothers were quietly eating their food, the sound of clinking cutlery filling the air.
As the evening unfolded, Dad cleared his throat and faced me, wearing an affectionate smile. “You’ll finish school soon,” he said in an attempt to fill the awkward silence.
I met his gaze, a faint smile twitching on my lips.
He continued, “Your uncle was right; you do have the law coursing through your veins. You know every section of the Constitution by heart.” Pride flickered in his gaze, stirring a flutter in my chest. “I cannot wait to see you in action, working with the rest of us in the real world.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “I have no doubts that you’ll be one of the very best, Alessia.”
I heaved a sigh, feeling a rare warmth spread across my body. My sole purpose was to make him proud, to be the perfect daughter he wanted.
“Grazie, papà,” I thanked him with a wide smile and a heart full of gladness.
Chapter 2 – Nik
Betrayal was just a word the gullible clung to after gifting their trust to the wrong people, only to find out too late that it was a gamble. With this kind of mind and perception of life, how could one feel such a puny emotion when they never trusted anyone to begin with?
My father used to say,“A knife in the back only hurts if you let someone close enough to use it.”I’d lived all my life setting boundaries, detaching myself from any sort of emotion. Only a handful of people were close to me, and only a couple of them had my trust.
I was the kind of man who struck deals based on guarantees, who saw everyone as a potential threat and viewed the world through a broken lens. Some called me a madman; others said that I was a cynic, a demon from the pits of hell. But I was just a simple man who saw people for who they truly were—selfish and hypocritical.
It was that same selfishness that created the rift between the Romanos and the Tarasovs. I’d never liked Dante, the Italian Mafia boss who thought he ruled the streets of Chicago, whose name instilled the fear of God in the hearts of his enemies. I had no personal quarrel with the man—I just didn't like proud people in general.
Deep down, I knew Dante would try to double-cross me and manipulate our deal in his own favor. But I went ahead and sealed the deal regardless. Not because I trusted him. No. Because I wanted to see for myself what kind of man he truly was. I wanted to see just how greedy he could be.
Dante Romano had that reputation—the reputation for getting away with anything, even when he was at fault. The man had some of the best lawyers in the city at his beck and call, twoof whom were his own sons. He practically had the legal system in the palm of his hand.
He believed he was invincible, untouchable, and that he could do as he pleased. Dante’s faith in his power and influence was beginning to get to his head, clouding his judgment and boosting his ego.
The man was a snake, cunning in every way, proud and arrogant. He fucked up, and now his carelessness had caused my organization a great loss. Our deal was simple, yet he failed to hold up his end of the bargain. A shipment of weapons meant for the Bratva had mysteriously disappeared without a trace, stolen under his watch.
The bastard claimed to have nothing to do with it, but when I dug deeper, I found out that there was a chance he was involved in this act of theft. The signs all pointed in his direction, yet he wouldn’t own it. Instead, he denied it and sent a half-hearted reassurance that this must be some sort of misunderstanding.
