Page 10 of Forced & Pregnant Bratva Bride (Tarasov Bratva #13)

Everything happened so fast, and I barely even had the time to process what the hell was going on. It started out as some expensive joke—a ploy to fool his elders—but in the end, the real fool was me.

I didn’t want to believe it at first; it seemed so strange and inhumane even for a monster like Egor. However, I realized soon enough that he wasn’t kidding—he meant every word when he introduced me as his fiancée.

It was true. I belonged to him. With this stunt, he proved that I was just another piece of property he owned. It dawned on me now. I was at his mercy. My hatred for him couldn’t stop the wedding; my fury, my stubbornness, and resistance couldn’t do anything.

Maybe he should’ve just sent me to the brothel or thrown me in his dungeon.

At least then, I wouldn’t be affiliated with him or his world of violence, shrouded in nothing but darkness and evil.

His last name would completely change my identity—turn me into a woman I wouldn’t recognize in the mirror.

This wasn’t the life I wanted. It sure as hell wasn’t the way I wanted to get married. Yes, I didn’t have such high standards or high tastes in a man. But I never imagined settling down with someone like Egor.

This has got to be the worst wedding ever.

No proper proposal—a responsible man on his knee with a fancy ring in his hand. Nothing.

My teenage years were taken from me, as was my adolescence. As if that wasn’t enough, my dream of someday marrying a good man who would love and protect me was also stolen. It was official. I was the unluckiest girl on the planet.

Was this all there was to life?

Was this really my reality now?

Why me? Why did all the bad things happen to me?

I was just a twenty-one-year-old girl trying to find a place in this world. Why did the world have to be so cruel to me? Was I born to suffer?

Why was I put on planet Earth if all that awaited me was pain and agony?

The church doors parted, and I drew a deep, long breath, my heart racing in my chest. I blinked back the tears that welled in my eyes, my lips curling to a plastic grin.

Soft piano keys filled the air, heads turning and looking at me.

Their gazes were heavy, and their expressions—some were light and welcoming, while others were just downright flat.

My only consolation today was that our guest list was limited to a handful of people—close friends and family members from the groom’s side.

The mere thought of him being my groom made my blood boil.

The aisle seemed to stretch on forever, my heels clicking softly against the floor as he walked toward the altar. My palms were greasy, my eyes glassy, and I was sweating in weird places. My hands trembled, my pulse quickened, and all I could do was hope—pray—that I was able to put it all together.

Get a grip of yourself, Leo , I thought, his threat echoing in my head.

“Make no mistake, if you screw this up, there will be consequences.”

Egor wasn’t the type to bluff; he was a man of his word.

One I didn’t want to mess with despite my stubbornness.

I was insignificant. If he decided to make me disappear, he’d do it without lifting a finger, and no one would even notice I was gone.

Left to me, I’d rather be six feet under than be married to this monster.

But I still had four siblings, and I’d be of no use to them dead.

Yes, I hadn’t given up on them. I’d never do that—not even in a million years.

Every cloud, they say, has a silver lining. Maybe this union wouldn’t be so bad—maybe with just the right scheme, the right act, I might make something out of this situation.

At this point, I was only juggling through possibilities with no actual plan on the ground. Not yet, anyway. But I’d figure something out later. Since this was my new reality, there was no use crying over spilled milk. I’d have to take the bull by the horns sooner or later.

But for now, I had to get through the day—I needed to survive the vows at the altar.

My eyes fixed on him as he stood before the priest, dressed in a dark suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and muscular build.

His dark brown hair was perfectly styled—slicked back to highlight his strong jawline and the subtle scar on his left cheek.

He stood tall and powerfully built, his presence drawing my attention.

Deep down, I admitted he was good-looking—attractive, too, dare I say.

But on the surface, all I saw was a devil in a tailored suit. Nothing more.

Finally, I reached the altar and stood beside him, my heart pounding like a drum. As soon as the priest began the ceremony, I felt my soul leave my body. His voice echoed across the building—striking, powerful, and audacious.

Did he not realize I was forced into this marriage? Could he not see from my face that I was uncomfortable with this madness? But then again, what could he do even if he did know? He was probably one of Egor’s pawns anyway. Respectfully, of course.

As we drew nearer to the part I dreaded the most—the vows—I closed my eyes, praying for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. The air in the church building suddenly felt thinner when the priest turned to me.

“Do you, Leona West, take this man, Egor Tarasov, to be your lawfully wedded husband…?”

His voice trailed off as soon as he began, replaced by only one sound: my own heartbeat. I saw his mouth moving, but couldn’t hear his words. A lone strand of sweat trickled down my temple, my chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths.

My knees felt too weak to carry my weight, my eyes too heavy to contain my tears. Gradually, I was losing strength, becoming more and more vulnerable by the second.

So, this is it, I thought. This is the moment I lose everything—myself, my freedom. This is the moment I get bound to this devil for the rest of my life.

I wept on the inside, struggling to keep my tears from flowing like a river.

The priest’s voice snapped me back to reality just in time to catch the million-dollar question: “...till death do you part?”

My jaw tightened, heart racing like a galloping horse as I went silent for a moment. I managed to meet Egor’s gaze. He was calm as always. However, there was a look in his eyes that was both scary and intimidating at the same time. Like he was daring me to try something stupid.

After a brief moment of hesitation, I answered, “I do.” My heart shattered into a million tiny pieces, a single tear rolling down my cheek.

He turned to Egor and asked the same question. His response was, as expected, positive.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you, husband and wife,” he announced, his voice loud with a hint of enthusiasm. “You may kiss the bride.”

Egor closed the distance between us, and the second his lips rested on mine, a cold shiver ran down my spine. My whole body trembled—not with repulsion or disgust—but with something…lighter.

Strange.

That wasn’t the reaction I expected. At all.

The guests stood up and applauded. Camera flashes blinded me as they went off.

Egor held my hand, his grip delicate but firm. “The least you can do is smile,” he whispered through gritted teeth, his gaze sweeping across the cheering crowd.

I swallowed hard, drew a long breath, and mustered a hollow grin.

The ceremony ended as quickly as it began, and I made it through in one piece. Thank God.

***

I was in my room—my cell—seated on a chair by the window with my head against the cool glass. My wet hair stuck to my skin, my legs pulled up before me as I watched two hummingbirds build a nest in a tree outside.

I’d finally gotten out of that tight white silk lace that almost suffocated me and had taken a hot shower. My mind was focused on the birds in the tree as they worked together to build a nest. Maybe they’d soon lay eggs, and this was a preparation for their little babies.

Even the fowls of the air managed to find true love and happiness in their union. In contrast, mine was filled with nothing but pain and regret.

The knock on my door startled me, and my hand instinctively went to my face, thumb wiping my tears. The door creaked open, and she peeked in first, her expression gentle and caring. It was one of the maids, Nikki.

“Mrs. Tarasov,” she began, polite and gentle as she stepped inside, her head lowered. “It is customary that the bride sleep with the groom in their shared bedroom.”

My brows knitted together, jaw tightening at the mere thought of sharing a bed with that monster. “Thanks. I’m fine where I am.”

She hesitated, her head still bowed. “I’m afraid it wasn’t a request, ma’am. The master demands that you come with me.”

The master , I scoffed, expression darkening. What a control freak.

Nikki was only doing her job, and if I refused to go with her, “the master” would punish her. There was no need for that.

Reluctantly, I rose to my feet, letting out a soft sigh, the hem of my oversized T-shirt kissing my thighs. “Lead the way.”

“Thank you,” she said, turning around to leave.

I followed her through the grand hallway until she reached a door at the end of it. She knocked, and his muffled voice answered, telling her to come inside. Nikki stepped away from the door, looked at me, and gestured at the door as if to say, After you .

Without a word, I walked inside, and she closed the door gently behind me. I thought my room was enormous and sleek, but it was nothing compared to this place. It was called a master bedroom for a reason—massive, much bigger than our entire apartment back home.

The floor was polished black marble, veined with silver streaks that shimmered faintly under the golden light of the chandelier above. The chandelier itself looked like something stolen from a royal palace—hundreds of crystal shards dripping like icicles from a bronze crown.

To the left, near the floor-to-ceiling windows, was a small sitting area adorned with a couple of sleek leather armchairs that flanked a fireplace.

Bookshelves lined one side of the wall, filled with thick volumes and ledgers.

Above the mantle was a hanging portrait—a large oil painting of my egocentric jailer. Egor.

A king-sized bed, nearly twice the size of the one in the other room, dominated the far end of the space.

The headboard was dark oak, carved with brutal precision, and the sheets were black satin with a blood-red throw tossed carelessly across the foot.

Everything about it was bold, masculine, and cold.

And then there was him, Egor, standing on the other side of the bed with the top three buttons of his crisp white shirt undone. He didn’t say anything, didn’t move, just stood there, watching me in silence.

I caught his eyes darting across my body as if wondering what I looked like under the oversized T-shirt. His gaze would’ve been creepy if he weren’t smart enough to mask the lust in his eyes.

“I thought this was supposed to be political,” I began, looking right at him, my expression almost as flat as his. “You only married me to get your elders off your back. There’s absolutely no need for us to be in the same room.”

Quietly, he walked over to me, his footsteps slow and deliberate, one hand buried in his pocket.

My eyes dropped to his chest, subtly drinking in the incredible sight of his torso, highlighted by the fabric of his shirt.

His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his dark brown hair catching the chandelier’s warm glow.

He was gorgeous—I saw that clearly now.

The closer he drew to me, the more I struggled to breathe, especially with his intoxicating scent invading my nostrils. He smelled really good, and when he towered over me, I felt my heart sink into my stomach.

Egor lifted my chin, gazing down at me, those dark hollow eyes locking with mine. “You’re my wife in every sense of the word,” he said, voice a low whisper, deep and husky. “Or did you forget?”

This close proximity had stolen my breath and also my ability to think, leaving me completely blank and defenseless. The look in his eyes sent tremors down my core, and when he touched my wet hair, I felt a cold shiver sprint across my body.

His touch was electrifying—a stark contrast to the repulsion I’d felt the first time he held me by the waist.

His fingers threaded through my wet hair, lingering at the ends. “You will sleep in my bed from now on,” he declared, voice low and even. “You will play your role as my wife. Got it?”

I clenched my jaw, but before I could respond with something sassy and arrogant, his arms wrapped around my waist. Less than a second later, he pulled me to himself, and that was when I felt his hardness.

His erection grazed my thighs, a subtle gesture that stirred up something in me—ignited a flame I didn’t want burning.

He didn’t move, just held my gaze in silence. We locked eyes, and the longer we remained in that compromising position, the longer I felt his boner. And now, it was even more difficult for me to breathe.

I hated myself for feeling this tingling sensation between my legs—for entertaining the illicit thoughts that invaded my mind.

No, no, no. This can’t be happening. I can’t be horny right now. No. Hell, no!

He pulled me closer, his face inches from mine, his fresh breath warm against my skin. My pulse spiked, heart hammering in my chest as his lips drew nearer to mine. I felt myself surrendering to him, his touch slowly breaking all of my defenses.

I couldn’t resist—couldn’t pull away, couldn’t even think for myself. It was almost like I was hypnotized by the lust dancing in his eyes. His hand traveled up my face, his thumb tracing the curve of my lips.

This entire time, I was frozen in place, vulnerable, and so fuckin’ wet. It was embarrassing, especially when he withdrew from me with that signature on his lips.

“Get used to your new identity, princess,” he said calmly. “The only way out of here is in a coffin.”

And with that, he walked away, leaving me to the crazy thoughts that plagued my head. This was intentional. He turned me on and left me hanging.

I hated the satisfaction that I saw in his eyes. But I hated myself even more for letting him toy with me the way that he did tonight.

Egor didn’t touch me again. That night, he slept on his side of the bed, and I did the same with my back against him, my legs curled up to my chest.