Ruined By My Brother's Best Friend (by Silverwriter) novel Chapter 294

Ruined By My Brother’s Best Friend

Meeting The Strangers

ARABELLA’S POV

I swallowed, staring at the blonde, middle-aged woman beaming at me, her smile widening with each passing second.

Who was she?

I dragged my eyes away from her and looked at the other unfamiliar faces at the table.

There was a man, middle-aged and with an unreadable expression on his face, sitting next to a younger man I guessed was in his late twenties.

It only took one look at the three of them and their brown eyes to know they were a family.

Why did Alvise bring me here to meet them?

“Please, come, take a seat,” the woman said, pulling out the chair next to her for me to sit.

There was an empty one right next to Alvise, so I smiled at her apologetically and walked over to sit beside

him instead.

“Good morning,” I muttered, looking around the table.

The woman’s smile faded a little, but she masked it with an awkward laugh. “Good morning.”

Her husband and son mumbled their replies, but I was too busy turning to look at Alvise to pay attention

to them.

“Why are we here?” I mouthed, uncaring of who saw, and just too uncomfortable to play along.

Alvise snaked an arm around my waist and pulled my chair closer until our skin touched, and I was so close I could sit on his lap if I wanted to.

“They are a friend’s family,” he whispered into my ear.

I frowned, pulling back to look at him.

His blue eyes were unreadable, and with each passing second I stared into them, I found myself struggling to understand what was going on.

“You don’t have friends.”

His grip on my waist tightened, and he rubbed his thumb over my hip bone, dark amusement flashing in his eyes. “That’s quite rude, Arabella.”

But it was the truth.

Alvise didn’t have friends. The only person I’d seen him making an effort to befriend was Archie, and even then, I always wondered how they ended up becoming best friends.

“What are we really doing here?” I asked, searching his face.

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Ruined By My Brother’s Best Friend

“No more questions.”

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opened my mouth to argue, but someone cleared their throat at the table, and I turned around to see the blonde woman watching us and scratching the back of her head.

What’s her deal?

Alvise’s grip disappeared from my waist, and I straightened out, my eyes dropping to the table as the waiters placed mouthwatering dishes in front of us.

Good.

I was starving, and we hadn’t had breakfast this morning.

“This is my wife, Arabella Valerio.”

My hand froze over the glass of water I was reaching for, Alvise’s words laced with so much intensity and authority that a shiver ran down my spine.

“She’s beautiful.”

I looked up, and it was the man in his late twenties who had spoken, his sharp brown eyes fixed on me.

Alvise didn’t like what he said.

I could tell from the way he tensed beside me and the veins on the backs of his hands protruded as he rested them on the table, but he didn’t say anything.

“My name is Hedeon,” the man spoke again, his Russian accent thicker. “Nice to meet you.”

“Thank you,” I smiled. “Nice to meet you too.”

Alvise pulled his hand from the table and rested it on my thigh possessively, and I sucked in a breath, giving him a side-eye.

He brought me here… so why did he have a problem with Hedeon speaking to me?

“I’m Logvin,” the middle-aged man said, prompting me to look at him. “And this is my wife, Rashell,” he added, draping his hand over his wife’s shoulders.

“She’s pretty, Pakhan,” Rashell said, clasping her hands together. “You’ve always had an eye for pretty ! women.”

Always?

My stomach tightened, and I dug my nails into my palm.

Her words implied that there had been other women. I mean, I didn’t expect to be the only woman Alvise had ever been with, but something about the way she spoke made my chest feel heavy.

Her eyes turned sad, and she shared a look with her husband. “Almost as pretty as our…”

“Let’s get to eating,” Alvise said, cutting her off. “I have somewhere to be after this.”

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Ruined By My Brothers Best Friend

I blinked, not missing the way he deliberately stopped her from finishing her sentence.

d what did she want to say… I was almost as pretty as who?

Utensils clicked against plates, and I snapped out of my thoughts to see that everyone had started eating.

I pushed away the discomfort in my stomach and joined them too.

“So… where are you from?” Rashell asked halfway through breakfast.

I wasn’t in the mood for small talk, especially because the vibe was off and I didn’t know these people, but I decided to indulge her.

“London,” I said, downing the rest of my orange juice.

“Ah, I see. I knew I heard a bit of an accent.”

I chuckled. “It’s the same for me. You all have accents.”

“Oh, really? But it can’t be as awkward for you as it is for us.”

I looked up, wondering if I’d heard her right. “It’s awkward for you?”

She laughed, waving her hands. “Well, not exactly, but we’re not used to seeing a non-Russian girl around.”

“I’m sure tourists visit here a lot, and other people come as well.”

“They do, but I’m talking about…” She lowered her voice, whispering, “the Bratva.”

I don’t know if she expected that to make me scared, or if she thought I didn’t know Alvise was involved in the Bratva yet, or both, but she stared at me expectantly for a reaction, and all I gave her was a blank stare.

Rashell laughed again.

She seemed to do that a lot. Could she be mentally deranged?

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