Page 1 of Bribed & Bred By The BRATVA (Bred By The BRATVA #9)

The hospital smells of disinfectant and burnt coffee. I’ve been sitting in the hard chair so long the plastic has carved ridges into the backs of my thighs, but the woman behind the glass doesn’t care. She reads out numbers like she’s reciting a grocery list.

The number she names is higher than anything I’ve ever earned in my life.

“Payment within seventy-two hours or the booking is cancelled.” Her voice is flat, without even the pretence of sympathy. She stamps the paper and pushes it across the counter, eyes already sliding away.

Seventy-two hours.

My brother doesn’t have seventy-two hours. Mateo’s heart is failing. Every minute he waits is another minute stolen.

I thank her, though the word tastes like rotting apples, and force myself up. The strap of my bag cuts into my shoulder as I stumble down the corridor. The fluorescent lights are too bright, humming overhead like insects. My vision swims.

I press the elevator button with a shaking hand.

That’s when I feel it.

A weight. A presence.

I turn, and he’s there.

Tall. Broad. Dark suit cut to perfection. His shoulders could hold a kingdom. His mouth is sharp, unsmiling. But it’s his eyes that stop me cold. They pin me like a dagger through paper. Cold. Certain. Stripping me bare.

Heat rushes to my cheeks and I look away.

The elevator arrives with a soft chime. I step inside, gripping the rail like it’s the only thing keeping me upright. My reflection in the mirrored wall looks hollow. Pale. Already breaking.

When the doors open on the ground floor, he’s waiting.

Coincidence, I tell myself. Just a man leaving the hospital. But he doesn’t walk past. He stays. Watching.

I try to ignore him, buying a small cup of tea from the café, but the paper cup trembles in my hands. My stomach knots too tight to swallow. I throw it away and head for the doors.

“Miss.”

The voice is deep. Smooth. The type of voice that leaves no room for refusal.

I turn slowly. “Yes?”

“I believe you need help.”

My pulse skitters. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.” His gaze never wavers. “Your brother is out of time. I can solve your problem.”

Anger sparks in me, brittle and hot. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know enough.” His words are measured, calm, absolute. “Mateo Constible. Sixteen. Cardiology. Your only family. A young woman breaking herself in two to keep him alive.”

My blood goes cold. “How—”

“I make it my business to know what I want.” He steps closer, not touching me, but the air thickens around us. “And what I want is you.”

The words knock the breath from my chest.

“I want a wife,” he continues, his voice quiet and cold edged. “A child. My legacy in blood and bone. You will give me both. In return, your brother will live. His surgery will be scheduled tonight. Paid in full. He’ll wake tomorrow in a private room with the best care money can buy.”

It takes me a moment to find words. “What? You can’t—”

“I already have.” He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a folded sheet of paper. When he opens it, the words Marriage License look back at me in bold print.

My knees threaten to give out.

“This is insane.”

“This is inevitable.” His tone sharpens. “Sign, and your brother lives. Refuse, and he dies on a waiting list. Decide now. My men are already transferring him from your…apartment.” He twists his face, as though the word apartment is too generous for how we actually live.

It is.

“The only question left is whether he survives.” His blue eyes flash, as though he is excited about not knowing what comes next. Whether I accept or refuse. It’s already a challenge for him, whether I bend or not.

I picture Mateo’s thin face, the hollow shadows under his eyes, the way he still tries to smile when I tuck his blankets at night. The memory of him coughing in the dark twists like a knife.

“Why me?” I whisper. “I don’t even know your name.”

His eyes glint, the faintest edge of hunger. “Aleksei Vasiliev. And you’re strong enough to stand in front of me without breaking. Because no one else will come for you. And because the moment I saw you, I knew.”

The paper shakes in my hands.

There is no choice. Not really.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’ll sign.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. Not a smile. Possession.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Then you’ll come with me now. We won’t waste time.”

He takes and folds the paper neatly away, gestures, and a sleek black car glides to the curb as if it has been waiting all along.

Warm air rushes over me when the door opens. My legs move even though every nerve screams at me to run. The leather seats swallow me whole.

He slides in beside me, close enough that heat radiates across the narrow gap. He doesn’t crowd me, but he doesn’t need to. His presence fills every inch of space.

“Where are we going?” My voice sounds small.

“To my house. Your new home.” His gaze flicks over me, sharp and assessing. “The judge is already on his way. We’ll sign as soon as he arrives.”

Panic claws up my throat. “Today?”

“You need urgency,” he says smoothly. “I expect it.”

The car hums forward, streetlights flickering on as the afternoon gives way to evening. My phone buzzes in my bag. I fumble it out with clumsy fingers.

A message glows on the screen.

Mateo transferred. Private room. Monitors stable.

I press a hand to my mouth. Relief floods me so sharp it hurts. I should call him. Let him know everything is going to be okay. But he’s mostly been out of it for the last few days. That’s how I knew he was running out of time.

“You see?” Aleksei says softly. “I keep my promises. Now you’ll keep yours.”

I lower the phone, pulse hammering. “And if I run?”

His gaze cuts to me. Dark. Certain. “You won’t. There’s nowhere safer than with me. And nowhere else your brother’s life will be saved at no monetary cost to you.”

The city lights fall away, replaced by trees and a stretch of private road.

Gates open silently, letting us through.

The car curves up a drive until a vast house of stone and glass looms ahead, glowing against the night.

Then continues around the drive taking us to a smaller, more contemporary single storey building.

He leans closer, his voice a command disguised as softness. “Breathe, Isabella. Your life has already changed. The rest will follow.”

The car rolls to a stop. My fingers tighten around my bag, though I don’t remember lifting it.

The driver opens the door. Aleksei doesn’t move until I do. His hand rests casually on his thigh, watch glinting, a man in perfect control.

When I finally step out, the cold night air slaps my skin and the rain dampens my hair. The house stands ahead of me, windows lit like watchful eyes.

Aleksei comes around, his steps unhurried. He stops close enough that I feel the pull of his gravity, close enough that when he tilts his head to look down at me, the world seems to tilt with him.

“Come inside,” he says.

It isn’t an invitation, but now I realise, I’ve already said yes.