Page 9 of Forced Bratva Hostage (Dubrov Bratva #15)

“Did the message go through?” I ask, my eyes raised towards my head of security.

Berk nods. “Yes, sir. It went through, and he’s read it.”

“Will he be able to decipher it?”

“We sent it in the same code you said his security system runs on. He won’t be able to work out where it originated from, but he will be able to work out what it says.”

“Perfect,” I sigh in relief. Finally, I’m back on track.

Tatiana has been the most unexpected distraction since the whole thing started. I can’t let her do that anymore.

Once Boris has figured out what the message says, he’ll know who has his sister. That’s when the whole plan really kicks off.

The guards need to be on high alert and prepared for anything, and I need to get my head in the game.

There is a burner phone lying on the desk next to me. I pick it up and roll it over so that the screen is facing up. It’s the one Boris will call on.

“You can run a full system sweep. I want to make sure that every firewall is in place to stop Boris from being able to trace the message back to us.”

Berk nods. Even though we both know it’s not necessary, I will feel better if he does it anyway.

He leaves my office, and I tap my fingers against the phone.

Technically, if Boris has already read the message, it should take him a few minutes to decipher it. The only unpredictable thing is whether or not he will call right away or wait.

In answer to my question, the phone begins to ring with a high-pitched generic tone. I smile. Right away, it is.

Sliding my finger across the screen, I swipe the green button to answer the call.

“Boris Enzo,” I say with a smile of satisfaction on my lips. I’ve waited a long time for this.

“Where the fuck is she, Andrei, and where the fuck are you, you fucking rat?”

“It’s been such a long time since we spoke. How are you?” I say, grating at his impatience.

“Why the fuck did you take my sister?” he shouts.

“I didn’t have to take her—she begged me. That girl is in love with me, and she ran away from you to marry me.” I say blandly.

“If you lay one hand on her, I’ll tear you—"

“It’s too late for that, Boris. She’s my wife.

Of course, we have done everything a husband and wife should be doing.

That girl would literally do anything I asked of her.

And she’s spilling all of your secrets.” I speak with dark intent, leaving no room for doubt in his mind.

If he doesn’t believe me, this is all for nothing.

“Fuck you, there is no way she would marry scum like you—you wouldn’t fucking dare cross that line with my family—"

His words are so tight in his throat that it sounds like he’s struggling to breathe.

“Did you know about that cute little butterfly tattoo of hers?” I muse.

There is a dragged-out, heavy silence. I don’t even know if he is aware of her tattoo. I’m just taking a chance with that knowledge, hoping it pays off.

When he speaks again, there is strain in his voice that confirms it did.

“You are dead, Andrei Volo. No one touches my sister. Not without my permission. Every man I have is hitting the streets to hunt you down. Every single one of them is coming for you. When they find you, they will drag you back to me, and I will take my fucking time with you—I will do things to you that people haven’t even thought of yet—I will rain such agony down—"

I press the red button and the line goes dead.

I said everything I needed to say, and I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of releasing his anger via those endless threats.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I chuckle over the fact that his sister is currently upstairs in her overly comfortable bedroom, enjoying pizza while she lies around on a king-sized bed. She’s completely comfortable.

Boris sounded horrified that I have his sister, but I can’t help wondering if it’s because his ego got cut down after someone got close enough to reach his family, or if it’s out of genuine love for his sister.

Why didn’t he ask to speak to her or offer to pay me to get her back? He went straight to threats.

I’m still lost in thought about this when the phone in my pocket rings. My personal phone.

The number on the screen is private, and it makes my heart beat faster, worrying if Boris is already step ahead of me and has tracked me down.

I can’t ignore the call. It’s too risky.

“Hello?” I say, tense and agitated.

“Andrei?”

The voice is instantly familiar. He sounds just like his brother, and my heart drops to the pit of my stomach.

“Hi,” I stammer.

“It’s Nico Andreev,” he says.

“I know. I recognize your voice. How are you, man?”

My heart aches with guilt. There have been so many times when I wanted to reach out to Grigoriy’s oldest brother.

I wanted to try and say sorry, to explain that Grig’s death was my fault because I was so blind in following the Enzos. I didn’t realize who they really were until it was too late, and Grig lost his life. He only got involved with them because of me.

His death is on me.

“Where have you been?” Nico asks. “I’ve been looking for you since we lost Grig. You vanished—"

“Yeah, I had to. I wanted to reach out, but I—I—"

“It doesn’t matter. We can talk over drinks soon,” Nico sighs. “It’s good to know you are alive. I assume things are well?”

“As well as can be expected.”

He takes a deep breath, and I wait. I don’t know what to say to him. My heart is beating too fast and my stomach is knotted tightly. This phone call came before I was ready for it.

“Listen, Andrei, there is a lot of shit going down with the Enzos lately. Someone is stirring up drama with them. They are acting up, getting aggressive, looking for something—do you have anything to do with it?”

They are looking for his sister. Shit. What do I say?

“No, I don’t. I don’t want anything to do with the Enzos,” I lie.

If I involve him, I put his entire family at risk. They already lost Grig because of me. I won’t put them in the middle of this.

The lie is a kindness. And I hope that after this all comes out, which I’m sure it will, that he’ll forgive me and understand why I made the choice to keep the truth from him.

We chat a little while longer. It’s a tense, awkward conversation, both of us skirting around things.

He’s definitely surprised to be talking to me, but the things we need to say are things you say face-to-face.

And the guilt I have about Grig is way too heavy to allow me to stand in front of his brother right now.

By the time I hang up the phone, my neck and shoulders are knotted tightly.

I should have told him we were married. That was my whole plan—to tell everyone she married me by choice. But I tripped over my own thoughts. Dammit.

I reach back, running my fingers over my aching muscles, up my neck and pressing them into my skull. I should have been more prepared for that conversation, but how can you prepare?

With a heavy sigh, I lean back in the office chair. I need something to take my mind off it all, so I flick the track pad of my laptop and navigate to the security camera program to busy myself with that.

I tell myself that I’m checking on everything, but I navigate straight to the camera in her bedroom. A tiny, hidden camera I haven’t even turned on up until this point—but I want to know what she’s doing.

Except she isn’t in there.

“She got out again?” I huff, zooming out and searching each of the other cameras until I find her in the servants’ quarters.

I guess it’s time I accept that locking her up simply isn’t working. It’s a waste of time. I won’t even bother with that anymore.

“What in the world?” I zoom in on the monitor and lean forward.

She’s switching out laundry soap with cake flour. Why would she—oh. She’s pranking the staff.

I keep watching her, annoyed, but curious to see what else she’s going to do. It’s strange that she’s putting energy into this instead of trying to escape. Unless she’s finally realized she can’t get past my security systems.

I tap my finger on the desk in annoyance. Tatiana is now pouring bleach into the fabric softener. Once that’s done, she moves over to the kitchen and mixes hot sauce with the ketchup and swops salt with sugar.

She’s messing with their ability to do their job.

Although the person she’s messing with the most is me.

I’m the one who has to eat the food that gets made. It’s my clothes that get washed by the staff—she’s messing with me, not them.

Amusement creeps in and I start chuckling.

She’s really playing with fire, but by the look on her face, that wide, mischievous grin, she knows it.

My laptop clicks closed, and I push away from the desk, determined to catch her in the act.

She’s going to be shocked when I walk in on her and she can’t deny any of it.

I hurry to the kitchen, set on reprimanding her, but when I get there, she’s gone.

How did she leave so fast?

I walk over to the sugar and touch my finger against it, then again my tongue. Salt.

Shaking my head, I call the housekeeper and tell her to check the salt, sugar and laundry powder and to throw away the fabric softener.

She’s confused, but when I explain what’s happened, she struggles to hide her grin.

“It’s not funny.” I narrow my eyes at her.

“No, sir. It’s not funny at all.” She shakes her head vigorously.

After dealing with the pranks I caught her pulling, I walk through the house looking for her.

In the library, she’s snuggled up on the sofa by the window, right in the warm rays of the sun, reading a book.

She’s lying on her back with her legs draped over the back of the sofa, looking very comfortable indeed.

“Have you been enjoying that book?” I ask, walking towards her, my eyes focused and stern.

“Oh, it’s lovely. I’ve been caught up in it all afternoon.” She smiles sweetly, as innocent as ever.

“All afternoon?” I tilt my head to the side.

“Yep.” She raises her brows and closes the book, stretching her legs out as though she’s cramped up from all the reading.

“I guess I should walk around a bit. I can’t sit here all day, that would be as bad as being locked up in a room.

” She throws me a challenging stare, her eyes glittering.

I watch her lips curling up into a wider grin. They look beautiful and soft.

Tatiana pushes past me, and my eyes follow her movements. The sway of her hips and how her hair bounces as she walks. By the time she’s left the library, I realize I didn’t even chew her out about escaping her room again.

***

Over the next few days, the pranks escalate. They are all pretty innocent, silly and mostly harmless, but for some reason, it’s driving me crazy.

I don’t know if it’s because she flat-out denies them and I can’t catch her in the act, or if it’s because I find them amusing and I’m starting to enjoy this stupid game she’s playing.

I enjoy the fact that she’s determined not to let her situation bring her down. She could be sulking in a corner, begging for freedom that I can’t grant her, but instead, she’s having a little fun.

I’m on the balcony outside my bedroom late at night. The sun went down a few hours ago, and I’m enjoying the cool night air.

The sky is dark blue, not a cloud in sight, but I can see thousands of stars. It’s absolutely beautiful.

Below, from somewhere in the garden, I hear a giggle.

The pool light is on, and it’s right below my balcony. The blue glow looks inviting, but I think it’s still a bit too cold to be swimming now.

I hear the giggle again, and my eyes dart towards the sound.

Tatiana steps up to the edge of the pool, slowly undressing.

She pulls her T-shirt over her head and throws it onto the floor behind her.

What the hell is she doing? The guards patrol this area on a regular basis—any one of them might see her.

She unbuttons her jeans and wiggles her hips as she pushes them down her slender, perfect body.

For a moment, I’m spellbound. I’ve seen her in her underwear before, on the night I took her, when her dress crept up, and again when I bandaged her knees—but this is—this is different.

She’s confident, grinning, and mischievous.

She kicks her pants off and stands at the edge of the pool in her underwear, dark red lace panties and a bra that matches. I can see the outline of her nipple against the transparent fabric, and my cock is already getting hard.

My heart is beating fast in my chest. I’m waiting for her to dive in before anyone sees her, but to my horror, she starts to reach back, unclipping the bra, and starts to peel her bra and panties off as well.

One hand, I can’t look away. On the other hand, I’m furious she would let other men see her this way. Jealousy rages inside me.

In the evening light, she is completed naked beside the pool. Light jumps through the water and reflects over her smooth, tanned skin, dancing across her body, teasing me.

She is so much more beautiful than I could ever have imagined.

She dives in, swimming beneath the surface of the water while my eyes follow her naked form.

I’m stunned into silence, and I’ve lost track of my thoughts. But when I hear some guards moving somewhere else in the house, I get a shocking reality check. One of them could see her at any moment.

The jealousy gets thicker and more dangerous as my cock throbs, watching her swim.

She’s taken her pranks too far, and it’s time to put an end to it.

I hurry from my bedroom, downstairs, towards the pool.

While I’m running, I tell myself how ridiculous I’m being. She’s not mine, not technically—but then again, she is . She’s my wife, and I don’t want any other man to see her body.

I have a right to be angry about what she’s doing.

I shove the patio doors open and march towards the pool, hearing the gentle sound of her laughter and another splash as I step onto the stone walkway, following the soft lighting leading me to the water.