Chapter 5 – Kat #2
And then he was out of the room, leaving me with the other guy, who brought in a full rack of dresses behind him.
“You, my dear, are my newest idol,” he remarked, laughing as he brought the rack to the bed.
“What?” I asked, brushing my hair back from my face.
He stepped closer until he was just a few inches away from me. His vintage shirt and dark jeans perfectly matched his carefree vibe. I couldn’t pinpoint how, but he looked different from Danil or any of the other guys I’d seen here so far.
“Nobody—I mean not a single person—ever stands up to him. Yet, you talk to him like you’re college classmates? That’s phenomenal,” he explained, his soft blue eyes bright as he smiled.
I didn’t know what to say to that.
“I’m Sava. Chinese by birth, but I’ve only been there a few times. Like the boss said, I’m one of the soldiers here,” he remarked before adding, “And I’m a sweetheart. When I’m not making people beg for death.”
I was right. He looked different because he was Asian. He was good-looking and maybe just one or two inches shorter than Danil himself. But his face wasn’t as sharp as the others’.
That probably explained why he seemed less cold-blooded than them.
“So, tell me about yourself,” he urged, shrugging.
“I’m Kat, and your boss just forced me to sign marriage papers.”
He chuckled.
“I like you. I mean, you’re pretty, and I like pretty girls. But I like smart and pretty girls more, and you happen to be a boss in that category, too,” he revealed before adopting a more serious look. “Officially, though, I’m here to help you with anything you might need or want.”
I nodded before asking him, “Can you get me out of here, then?”
“What?!” he exclaimed, then chuckled. “I don’t have a death wish, baby. And even if I did, it wouldn’t be at Danil’s hands.”
I laughed inwardly at myself.
What was I expecting?
I walked past him and toward the dresses.
“I hope you don’t plan on going through with your ugly dress plan, because it’d be a shame for all this beauty to go to waste,” he said, standing beside me.
“I fully intend to,” I confirmed, nodding as I held the first dress up. “Your boss’s looks will be enough for you to look at.”
“His good looks are undeniable, right?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper.
“Good looks? I see nothing beyond his coldness.”
His arm bumped lightly with mine as he answered, “I know you know he’s handsome. And all that coldness can inspire heated thoughts.”
I chuckled despite wanting to keep a straight face.
His friendly aura was too strong for me to feel uncomfortable.
“Back to business. You’ve not freshened up yet, so get on it. I’ll be here waiting. Then we’ll try the dresses on and make a choice.”
I was about to talk, but he beat me to it.
“Oh, you don’t have anything to change into,” he said as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out his phone, typing a quick text. “Casuals, underwear, lingerie.” Then he looked up at me. “Vanilla? Citrus? Sandalwood?”
I raised a curious brow.
“Your bathroom essentials,” he pointed out.
“Citrus for my hair. Anything soft works for my skin.”
“I love your hair, by the way. It looks raw in a sexy way,” he complimented, typing away on his phone.
Casual flirting has to be this guy’s hobby.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
He put the phone back into his pocket, and I sat on the bed to his right.
“They’ll be delivered in minutes,” he informed. “Are you really thinking of escaping?” he asked, turning to face me.
“More like hoping,” I answered, sighing. “I’m not na?ve. Neither was I a kid when my dad worked for the Bratva. I know I can’t just break out of the estate. Even if I did, your almighty boss surely has the resources to bring me back in the blink of an eye.”
He nodded in agreement.
“I can only hope he’s sensible enough to consider another way out of this impossible situation. But he just made me sign the marriage license, and now I’m about to pick a damn wedding dress. My hope is becoming nonexistent.”
“Sounds cliché, but you know we sometimes find happiness in unexpected places, right?”
“So I’ll find happiness with the man who murdered my father and forced me into marriage?”
“It sounds crazy when you put it like that. But I’ve heard of even more reluctant brides who became their happiest in marriage. Some are married to Mafia bosses, too. Even the boss’s brothers.”
A knock on the door ended our conversation as he stood.
About an hour later, I was in the bathroom, taking off the fourth dress I’d tried on—my chosen wedding dress.
It was a black dress with mesh sleeves and a shimmery, lacy bodice that gathered into an elegant ball gown.
The boat neckline removed its implied conservativeness with how low it was; if I had been a bit bustier, I would have been exposing more than just the top of my breasts.
I came out of the bathroom in my jeans and one of the T-shirts that Sava sent God-knows-who to get.
“Are you sure?” he pressed. “You have a banging body. Any of these dresses will be dope.”
“You already said that about a hundred times, Sava. This is my wedding dress,” I insisted, tossing said dress toward him.
“I was right. You. Are. Different,” he proclaimed, rising from the edge of the bed.