A Beauty So Cursed by Beena Khan
Chapter 2
Miran sat upright and stared at Alexei in surprise.
“What?” he bit out.
He cannot be serious.
“You can’t run from an important matter forever,” Alexei chided. Then, he glanced behind and called out, “Lada, my Goddess, you can come inside now.”
I’m a grown man, and they want an arranged marriage.
Fuck that.
Miran looked on in disbelief before meeting his mother’s eyes. She gave a tight-lipped smile before returning her gaze to Vlad.
Vlad caught her looking, but this time, he didn’t turn his face away.
Their mother gave Vlad a small smile. Vlad didn’t return it, but at least his expression softened.
In the background, small, timid footsteps came toward them. Miran held in a deep sigh as he stared at the floor in frustration, wondering how he could get himself out of the situation.
As she came closer to them, a whiff of a celestial scent hit him. She smelled of warm sandalwood and sage, and it was… earthy, like home. He tried to block out the scent, but it was hitting him hard, and it was a struggle not to inhale it.
He heard movement to the right, on the opposite couch, across from him. His ears perked up when a weight of a body pressed down into the couch.
Heavier footsteps followed behind her. He didn’t want to look, but realizing he had no choice, he glanced up.
It was the first time he’d seen Lada Sokolova.
He’d expected to meet her gaze, but she stared at the floor with her head bowed, her hair enveloping her.
She had short, wavy brown hair with reddish hues. His gaze traveled from her hair and lingered on the freckles that dotted and decorated her fair flesh. The fairest beauty in the kingdom. He leaned forward, wanting to see more of her. He paused and wondered how many freckles did she have and where?
She was a fantasy come true.
Pretty girl but she looked so small and out of place sitting next to her father. Thin and tiny like a kiska, kitten, and he was sure he was more than a foot taller than her. She couldn’t be taller than five-feet-two.
She looked young. Too damn young… that made her off-limits to a bastard like him. He gritted his teeth, wondering how old this kid was. Averted his eyes to Alexei, he looked at him with disappointment.
A child bride? Is he fucking serious?
Miran opened his mouth, but Alexei spoke again, “This is Lada, and you have already met Adrian before.”
Miran gave a curt nod to the redheaded man who sat beside her.
Adrian Sokolov.
The man he was after in the Bratva.
Adrian knew Miran was DEA. He was Councilor to Alexander, and it difficult to hide things from him.
“This is Dahlia and Vladimir, Adrian,” Alexei continued, looking at Dahlia and then Vlad. “They are our guests today.”
Adrian darted his eyes at the couple before focusing on Vlad. He didn’t look too pleased, but he nodded.
Vlad didn’t bother to say hello in return, although Dahlia did.
“Lada is twenty,” Alexei said, finally answering his unspoken question.
He exhaled the breath he’d been holding in for a few seconds. She wasn’t a child, despite that, her baby face barely looked legal. Miran glanced at her again, and not once she met his eyes. Returning his attention to Alexei, he raked a hand through his thick, black hair, tousling it before he spoke, cutting right through the chase and not bothering to introduce himself.
“She is too young for me. I’m twelve years older than her. I’m thirty-two,” he pointed out. He was talking about her like she wasn’t even present.
Miran the Moron.
He avoided looking at her body because he knew she had an adult, womanly body, especially her tits, that looked soft in her white, thin dress. He cleared his thoughts and forced himself to focus.
A nagging voice told him he could agree to the proposal to bring down her father.
Alexei protested, “I’m twenty years older than my late wife.”
Miran grazed a hand through his light beard, remembering his deceased grandaunt, before bluntly saying, “Yes, everyone is aware you married a woman who could be your daughter’s age.”
Dreadful silence filled the room, but Miran wasn’t afraid.
Just then, Alexie’s laughter chortled through the air, easing everyone and the tension in the room.
At last, the young girl, Lada, glanced up. His eyes clashed with hers. It was like she was seeing him, but not seeing him at the same time. Her emerald eyes were bright, and they looked almost… pained and lonely.
It was like looking in a mirror.
His own reflection returned the gaze.
His eyes narrowed, and her small hand nervously reached up and tucked the hair that fell in front of her face behind her ear, allowing him to have a true glimpse of her.
He inhaled sharply when his hard gaze fell on the right side of her face.
Her scarred side.
Jagged brown lines ran down her cheek. The imperfection on her skin made him wonder how she got the marks and how long ago? He didn’t know. Now, he was stumped at her disfigured looks. The girl looked away and glanced at the floor again.
“Lada had an accident when she was five years old. My wife spilled hot oil on her while cooking, and it scarred her,” Adrian, Lada’s father said, noticing Miran’s reaction.
“Where is your wife now?” he asked slowly.
Silence filled the room again.
Adrian’s first wife had died fifteen years ago.
He knew that already.
A lightbulb flashed in his mind.
Fifteen years ago.
Lada Sokolova was twenty-years-old. His mind formed the connection. Had Adrian killed his wife for accidentally hurting her daughter? A dread ran chills up his spine, and his heartbeat raced. Now, he really felt the need to grab him by the throat and choke him to death. The snap of Adrian’s neck would be so satisfying to the ears. He wasn’t close to Adrian at all like he was with Alexander and Alexei, and he avoided him at all costs. Clenching his fists in and out, he looked at anywhere but at him.
It was bad enough that the child had been burnt, but she was motherless too.
He looked at Vlad whose intense gaze seemed to be studying Adrian.
“Lada’s mother died in an accident,” Adrian answered.
It was a lie.
Miran was sure of it, but he kept his mouth shut now.
“Lada’s match is not me,” he said slowly, carefully choosing his words as he returned his attention to Alexei. It wasn’t about her scars though. Mainly, he was conflicted about her age, and that he didn’t want to marry anyone. “She would be suitable for someone in her age group. I’m not the one for her.”
He knew he was rejecting her, but he hoped she wouldn’t have any hard feelings toward him. The last thing he wanted was a crying female.
Adrian deeply sighed, catching Miran’s attention.
“Are you satisfied now, Alexei? He has no interest from the beginning. I could have married off my daughter when she turned eighteen, but you insisted on the match for Miran,” Adrian protested, blatantly ignoring Miran, and glaring at Alexei.
Miran wanted to punch him in the gut.
“She could go to college instead,” he offered.
Adrian scoffed under his breath and questioned, “For what? She can’t work if she is to be married.”
“Maybe she can decide that for herself,” a voice chimed in.
Miran’s eyes fell on Dahlia who’d spoken. He was just about to rise and wring Adrian’s fleshy neck, but he caught Alexander’s disapproval across the room. His cousin shook his head slowly, and Miran gritted his teeth in return, forcing himself to stay seated.
“I’d expected a finalization of the proposal today and not a mockery,” Adrian muttered under his breath.
“Very well since that is Miran’s final answer. You may do what you like. I will not stop you,” Alexei said in defeat.
“I will get my daughter married off soon,” Adrian fumed as he rose and snatched Lada’s hand, jerking her up.
With her gaze cast to the ground, her eyes looked permanently glued to the ground. She didn’t make eye contact with anyone at all. Was she shy or fearful? He couldn’t tell, but his eyes caught her small, pale, trembling fingers.
She didn’t raise her chin and protest against her father’s threat. Feeling conflicted, he wanted to reach out and break those harsh fingers of her father’s that clutched her delicate flesh. Skin that would have bruises later. Her father walked away, dragging her behind him, causing her to stumble. Miran wanted her to glance at him again, to look behind her, but she didn’t.
“At least that’s over,” Alexander said at last. “Now we can stop worrying about your marriage.”
Miran rolled his eyes in return.
“Well, I’m going to have lunch brought out,” his mother added. “I prepared the food today.” She rose to her feet and turned to leave.
“What kind of cuisine?” a deep voice asked.
Miran’s head turned to his right at Vlad.
Vlad spoke for the first time to their mother.
Their mother, Roza paused and looked bewildered before her eyes brightened.
“It’s Italian,” she replied in her soft voice. “I made it especially for y…” her voice trailed off, and she began fumbling with her long, pastel, pink dress. “I’ve also made Russian,” she added.
“I’ve never had Russian food. No one cooked it in my household,” Vlad said in a voice so low.
Her eyes filled with tears as she blew out a shallow breath. She sniffled slightly as she tried to compose her emotions once again.
“Do you want to help me bring out the food?” She clicked her teeth. “I mean, not that I expect you to do any work.” Her cheeks warmed and her neck flushed. “We have servants. I just thought I could spend time…” She was fumbling with her words now. “I mean since it’s your first time here, do you want a house tour?” she asked, giving a broken smile.
“Okay… Mamochka,” Vlad said, acknowledging her for the first time, standing up, and moving toward her.
Miran hid a smile at the meaning. Mother.
Her eyes widened and she gasped. “You know Russian?”
“Yes,” Vlad replied softly. “But I’ve never felt the need to use that word until… now.”
Her eyes sparkled, and a soft smile played on his lips.
Those two would get along just fine.
He watched them reunite, but he lost his focus because his gaze kept drifting to the front entrance where Lada Sokolova had disappeared.