Page 10 of Forced into a Bratva Marriage
I knew he was referring to the State v. Daniel Vetrov’s case. My presentation in the hearing room must’ve caught the attention of those actively involved. This was good for Vetrov. But bad for me.
This man was here to intimidate me, to scare me off. The fact that he wanted me to drop the case meant I was on to something. Clearly, Vetrov was innocent; if he wasn’t, this man wouldn’t be here.
“Why?” I asked him.
“Because I said so,” he replied, his tone dripping with conviction.
He was clearly used to giving orders and having people grovel at his feet. No wonder his voice was authoritative and laced with condescension.
My face twisted into a faint scowl that masked my fear. I sat back down, holding his gaze. “Who are you?”
He waited, watching me with the same flat expression he’d had since he appeared in that seat. “Drop the case before it’s too late.”
He was threatening me.
This was the point where I let my fears and insecurities take control. But I refused to back down.
“No,” I said.
My refusal wasn’t loud or dramatic. However, it was confrontational, and I could tell he wasn’t pleased with my response.
He stayed silent, his expression unchanged.
I leaned in, summoning the little courage I had. “An innocent man is serving time while the real culprit walks free. I will not stop until justice prevails.”
Finally, something shifted in his expression. Not much—barely a flicker. But I saw it. It seemed I’d surprised him. Maybe he wasn’t used to people saying no to him.
He stared at me a bit longer than the conversation required before rising to his feet. That’s when I realized how tall he was. At least over six feet.
“You’ve been warned…Miss Hendy,” he said.
I swallowed, watching him walk away with slow, measured strides like he owned the place. It wasn’t until after he walked out the door that I let out a heavy sigh of relief.
I sat there for another minute—maybe two—shaking as I stared at the seat he’d occupied. My legs were trembling beneath me, my heart pounding like a freaking drum.
When I looked out the window, I saw him walking toward the SUV parked across the street. The man in black, who’d been standing like a statue, opened the backseat door.
That’s when it dawned on me that he was the vehicle’s owner and that the man worked for him.
The waiter returned with my order. “Your tea, ma’am,” he said.
I looked at him and flashed a forced grin as I accepted it. “Thank you,” I said, struggling to steady my shaking hands.
My whole body was tense, and my pulse wouldn’t stop racing. I released a quiet exhale, attempting to calm my nerves as I sipped from my cup.
Relax, he’s just trying to intimidate you,I said to myself.It’s all just empty threats.
If that were true, why was I still shaking like a leaf? Why did his last words still echo in the back of my mind?
“You’ve been warned…Miss Hendy.”
I was so sure that he not only knew my name. Men like him always did their homework on their targets before showing up. That meant he already knew everything about me: my home address, my workplace, and even my class schedules.
Fuck.
I wanted to believe he was bluffing. But the man who’d occupied the seat across my table didn’t look like someone who made empty threats. He looked more like a man of few words and more action, definitely someone I didn’t want to mess with.
Although his English was smooth, the man was clearly Russian. And considering the power he exuded, he was most likely a member of the Russian Mafia.
