The Mafia's Unwilling Bride
Angel Freeborn · Ongoing · 100.5k Words
Introduction
Ivy Greene hates men. It's not just a phase, or a front. She actively hates them. All her life, she has lived, surrounded by women. Most importantly, her grandmother who taught her to hate men. So when she finds a man in her living room, and her grandmother tells her he is her betrothed, her first reaction is to faint. She wakes up in a wedding gown, all dolled up, with a note plastered on the mirror in the strange room.
The moment she crosses through the door, her entire life changes as she steps into the world of Vladimir Bratva, the youngest, yet most feared mafia lord in the world. Vladimir is taken aback by her venomous tongue she wastes no time using to show him just how little she thinks of men. He's only used to men hating him, so she's an amusing development.
Both strong-headed, they clash in every way. But the most explosive way is between sheets, where Vladimir shows Ivy the kind of results passionate hate can produce. Her perspective starts to shift. Because how can the same kind of person she has been groomed to hate, make her scream so much, and not in anger?
Just when she begins to rethink her orientation, the ghost of their ancestral past, intertwined in the most toxic way, resurrects. Sending them on a ride that changes everything.
Chapter 1
My sleep paralysis demon always came around just before the first light of dawn.
Grabbing me by the chest, and choking until I was completely paralyzed and under the mercy of the unknown.
Because of her strength, yes, my demon is a girl, I call her Millicent.
Millicent was absent tonight. She was so absent, I freely dreamt of my hatred for men with a smile on my face.
Grandma taught me from age five when she took me in that men were useless.
It was a lesson that had literally raised me to the woman I was now.
So as I dreamt of the world I presently lived in where not a single man played a role in, my physical body was elevated into an euphoric state— until it wasn't.
Boom!
The cataclysmic sound jolted me up from sleep.
So many alarming thoughts ran through my head, only made worse by a resonant male voice.
A male voice!
My grandma hated men. She had only one rule for me, "Never trust a man, princess. You're better off without them."
I ate that rule, digested it, and lived by it.
When I heard that voice, I pushed aside my fear, and bolted out.
As I ran down the stairs into the living room, I discovered my beloved grandmother, chinned up defiantly, whilst a gun was pressed to her temple by a man.
My system regurgitated that rule, and I grabbed my stomach, instantly feeling nauseous.
"Princess," Grandma called to me.
Slowly, I lifted my head, my eyes staring straight into her eyes.
"I'm sorry," she said.
I tried to speak, but the words were stuck somewhere in my throat.
"I'm sorry that after everything, you have to leave."
That did it.
"Leave?" I blurted out through trembling lips. "What do you mean, leave?"
She swallowed hard. It looked like a painful swallow because she was about to hit me with a painful truth.
"The gentleman with a gun pressed to my head–"
"Gentleman?" I played with the irony in my head, damn near scoffing out.
"He's a representative of the Bratva family. You are betrothed to the head of the Bratva family, and the time has come for him to take you as his wife."
Reflexively, I burst out laughing. It was such a ridiculous thing to say, I thought surely grandma was playing tricks on me.
Like I would ever be betrothed to a man, knowing damn near how much we both hated them.
"This isn't a joke, princess," she said, and my laughter ceased abruptly.
"Wait you're serious? How is that possible? Why would I be–"
"Enough questions," the man who had been silently observing spoke in a stern tone that shifted my gaze to him.
If eyes were windows, his eyes were showing me a dark heart and soul. Then again, weren't all men the same way?
"You've said enough. She comes with me now," he continued in his Russian accent.
"Oh God," I held my chest, realising this was really happening.
"Princess, please forgive me. We will meet again."
"What do you mean we'll meet again, Grandma? What do you– oh my God! You're not coming with me? You're going to le–lea– you're going to–"
As I was trying to get the words out of my lips, another man was coming towards me with a determined look in his eyes.
Grandma wasn't meeting my gaze anymore. She was releasing me to the wolves. How could she do that? We were two peas in an inseparable pod.
It was too much. My brain grew so fuzzy, I couldn't breathe, and it even affected my vision.
Before the determined man could get a hold of me, I swayed behind.
In a blink, I was unconscious.
****
My eyes flickered open, and in a second, my memories aligned.
Strange men, living room, Grandma, Bratva, betrothed.
I gasped, and jolted into a sitting position.
My head spun around in search of where the hell I was.
A room, twice the size of my large bedroom, greeted me.
"Where am I?" My voice echoed in a hush whisper, returning back to my ears.
One moment, I was enjoying Millicent's time away, and the next, I was here.
My fingers dug into whatever surface it was resting on, and it sank.
I looked down to see satin sheets, notifying me I was on a bed.
Absolutely disgusted, because I didn't know who could have laid on these strange sheets before me, I jumped out of the bed, and landed directly in the center of the room.
My head shot up, and the first thing my eyes caught was my reflection in the large mirror.
"Oh my God!" I let out a subdued shout.
This wasn't happening. How could it happen? When did it happen?
My hand touched my face that was absolutely dolled up to the heavens.
Trailing down to see I was in a wedding gown, sealed my horror.
"No God. Please no!" I was on the verge of bursting into tears.
Yet, nothing compared to the twist in my stomach when I saw the note plastered to the side of the mirror.
One slow, cautious step after the other, I drew closer to the mirror to read what was written on the note.
"Hello Princess, when you awake, walk through the door, and you'll find a gentleman stationed outside. He'll bring you into the hall where the guests are seated and waiting for your arrival.
Sincerely, Vladimir Bratva."
A Mirthless chuckle escaped my parted lips.
It was bad enough when grandma said I was betrothed to the head of the Bratva family, I pictured a bald aging predatory man.
This note pretty much confirmed it. I wasn't just marrying any man, but the worst kind of man. An old, creepy, balding man.
"Some luck you have, Ivy. Some luck."
I was about to turn towards the door when I paused, and reflected.
No one knew I was awake. What if I just continued to pretend I wasn't?
A smile formed on my face, as I finally saw a silver lining in the middle of this unwelcomed chaos.
Turning right around, I walked back to the bed I had violently flown from before, and sat on it.
"Hello, I'm Ivy Greene. Sorry for fleeing from you before," I apologized sincerely. "Hopefully, we can be friends now."
That felt good. Everything was fine again. I would just sit still, and if I heard someone approaching, I'd pretend I was still asleep. Or even dead.
Because I'd rather die than to marry an old, creepy–
My thoughts had barely finished forming when the door pushed open, and someone stormed in.
I gasped, and tried to lay on my back, but my cover had been blown already.
"Hello princess," the voice of the intruder said.
A voice so strangely alluring, I was compelled to straighten up, and look.
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