Page 14 of Forcibly Sold to the Bratva (Zolotov Bratva #14)

I wake up thinking I’m dreaming, for it can’t be true that I have a woman curled up against me. But then, the memories from last night rush back in, and I open my eyes to see Arina curled against me, her ass digging into my crotch, her back touching my chest.

She’s still wearing that dress I got her—that gorgeous pink chiffon—and from where I lie, I can see it’s riding down her chest, her breasts spilling out in a dangerous manner.

I find my cock aching, hard against the soft curve of her ass.

Fuck.

I shouldn’t have handcuffed her to my bed. I know I didn’t have a choice, and the smart thing to do would be to carefully pull away before she wakes and pretend this didn’t happen, but I can’t help wanting one more minute with her.

She feels like she fits right against my body, like she was made for me. And no matter how hard my brain screams to get out of bed, my body has a mind of its own, and it’s causing a rebellion.

She sighs softly and nestles closer, and on impulse, I slide my hand around her waist, my elbow resting on her hips as I pull her closer.

Last night, for the most part, was one of the most beautiful nights I’ve shared with a woman.

I still remember how utterly divine she looked as she closed her eyes and savored what was on her plate, how pretty she looked when the wind swept her hair as she walked, how hooked she kept me with her retellings of her day, finding magic in the smallest of things.

Last night didn’t just feel like a meal; it felt like more. And I know it’s crazy to think I’m growing attached to Arina Sokolov when her brothers destroyed my family.

But in this moment, all I can think about is how perfectly she fits against me.

She stirs, and I go still, hoping she’ll go back to sleep before she realizes I have my arm draped across her like this.

Her body shifts subtly against mine, and I bite back a groan when it’s clear she might feel my cock if she wakes up. I’m about to pull away when she turns in my arms, and her eyelashes flutter over her cheeks as she opens her sleepy eyes to look at me.

“You let me go,” she murmurs, nestling closer like this is the most natural way to wake up.

“I did.” My voice sounds gruff.

Her eyes drop to my lips, then slide back up. “I don’t know whether to thank you or be annoyed that you handcuffed me in the first place.”

“How about we forget that ever happened? Think you can show me that small mercy?” I ask and gently slide a strand of her hair behind her ear.

She smiles and doesn’t move away.

What the hell is happening here?

Can’t she see how dangerously close we are? How increasingly difficult it is for me not to slide my hands up that dress, down her back, up her neck, until I have it all off?

I try to stifle a groan, but I’m so lost in those beautiful eyes that remind me of the ocean, of our time together, of how I drown in her presence and I think she hears me because the next thing I know, she’s sliding her hand over my waist, inching closer, angling her face up at me with those doe-eyes filled with desire matching mine until her lips are inches away from mine.

And I…snap.

“Fuck, Arina,” I moan as I reach toward her, my lips brushing against hers for just a moment before pulling back. “This is a bad idea.”

“Then you shouldn’t have slept next to me all night,” she whispers, her voice hoarse, as she cranes her neck to brush her lips against mine.

Any and all restraints I have are cracked, and I find myself unable to hold back. I gasp and slide my hand up her body, feeling the edges of her breasts, moving up her arm until I’m cradling the back of her neck to bring her close until my lips are smashed against hers.

She lets out a moan that gets me even harder, then slides a leg over mine, and I feel her heat burning through my boxers, calling to my cock, and with a growl, I bite into her lower lip.

This kiss isn’t anything like the one we shared at that apothecary store.

It’s explosive, dynamic, filled with a greed we’ve both been harboring for far too long, and I can see it in the way her fingers dig into my waist, in the way she parts her lips for me and fights her way into my mouth, curling her tongue around the ridges of my mouth.

She moans into my mouth, soft and low, and it makes me near-dizzy.

Her nails dig into my shoulders as she pulls me close, until our bodies are flush against one another’s, and then she pulls out, bites into my lower lip.

I groan and bite back, sliding my tongue back into her mouth, tracing her tongue with mine, the blood slowly heating in my body.

Her entire body trembles, and I feel my hardened cock through my boxers.

God, I want her. I want her so bad. And from the way she whimpers against my lips, I know she does, too. I’m starting to consider what it would be like to have more, to admit I want more when there’s a sharp ringing of the bell.

What the hell?

I quickly get off Arina while she adjusts her dress and follows me out. We reach the door when I hear a sharp knock.

“Housekeeping!” calls a voice from the other side.

Arina is about to reach for the door when I grab her hand. She turns to me, and I lift a finger to my lips and shake my head.

Hurriedly, I rush her to the back of the suite, toward the balcony.

“What’s going on?” she asks, wide-eyed.

“I put the do not disturb sign,” I tell her in a whisper. “At a hotel like this…”

The hotel would never override a do-not-disturb sign, especially not at this hour. She pales as she understands. It could be someone dangerous. Someone at our heels.

The bell rings again, and I run into my room.

“Coming! Just in the shower!” I scream as I begin to put on my clothes. I grab our passports, my phone, and wallet, and rush back to Arina.

Behind me, I hear the door handle turning. They’re trying to get in. Slowly, I slide open the door to the balcony, which leads out to the gardens out back.

“Come.” I hold out my hand and help her climb over the balcony railing. Outside, as expected, our guards wait.

One of them rushes up to me. “Sir?”

“Someone’s at the door,” I tell him, Arina’s hand clutching mine fearfully.

The guard nods and motions at the other. “Take them to the car. Take them straight to the airport. Send over back-up. We’re going to hold these guys off and follow.”

***

We follow our guard to the car, which has been brought up to a private entrance away from the lobby so as not to be seen. Arina’s hand hasn’t left mine for a single second, her grip tight from her nerves.

We get into the SUV, and Arina tries to ask, once again, who that was, but I shake my head, peering out of the window.

“The convoy isn’t ready,” I tell her. “We could be ambushed. I need to be on watch out.”

After that, she doesn’t question me. We reach the tarmac, and I lead her up to the plane.

“What about your guards?” she asks when we’re settled in.

“We should leave now,” I explain. “They’ll fly commercial if they have to.”

She nods, but there’s something in her expression, a fear and confusion, that tells me I won’t get away without telling her what’s going on for much longer. She’s seen us escape danger on two occasions now. She’s not a fool.

She knows someone’s out there to hurt me. She’ll want to know why.

We’ve just managed to take off when my doubts are proven right.

Once we’re airborne, Arina turns to me, and I hold back an internal groan. We have a four-hour flight to New York. Just how long do I think I can keep up this act for?

“Ilariy,” she says firmly. “Someone came to our hotel room this morning, and we ran. Please, tell me. Who are you running from and why?”

As I watch the trust in her face, the hope for answers, I find my heart shatter. The honest thing to do, the easy and right thing to do, would be to tell her the truth. She’s married to me now, and she has every right to know what she’s in for.

But the thing is, I don’t know how to tell her who my family is without her asking how her brothers come into this picture. For so long, they’ve sheltered her from the ugliness of their world.

She didn’t even know the Bratva existed when I slipped the word in once or twice. She has no idea what our families are.

And I hate to be the one to take away that innocence from her.

“Ilariy?” she asks, her voice slightly fearful now.

“Arina,” I try to answer as best I can, without giving away too much. “My family… we run big businesses. The competition is stiff out there, with people wanting to shut us down. They’re threatened by us.”

“Can’t you go to the cops?”

It’s such a simple question, and in a simpler world, that’s what we would have done.

“The cops…they aren’t all honest.” That’s all I can come up with.

“But—” she says, and I’m running out of things to say to her. It’s impossible to say more without shattering her peace of mind.

I pick up my phone and pretend to look worried. “I need to check something with the pilot,” I say as I stand. I walk off and turn around casually, as though it’s a passing thought. “I’m going to spend the next couple of hours working on some accounts for my office. Why don’t you get some rest?”

She doesn’t say anything. She simply glares at me like she can see right through me. I feel guilty, so powerless against that expression, but, like I said, I can’t be the one to break her innocence.

***

In the cockpit, with nothing to do but sit, I close my eyes and try to think. How much longer can I keep this up? How much longer should I?

If she knew the truth about the Bratva, about her brothers’ involvement, she’d be in even more danger if someone caught her.

It’s not just about her innocence. I think back to when I got her and how prepared I was to break her spirit until she gave me answers about their whereabouts.

If she hadn’t been innocent, I would have known.

Her innocence saved her, but how long before she finds herself in another situation like this?. There’s only one way that it ends: she’ll reveal secrets she shouldn’t, and she’ll die for it.

The moment anyone realized she knew, she’d become a liability. But keeping her in the dark is its own kind of cruelty.

By the time we land in New York, I’ve made my decision. I’m not telling her anything, and when she pesters me on the ride back, I stand firm. I stop making excuses. I tell her she knows all there is to know.

She sulks the entire journey home.

We enter the house in silence, and I’m prepared for her to walk to her room, but the moment we walk into the foyer, my heart drops to my stomach when I notice all my brothers milling about, waiting.

“Agafon?” I ask hoarsely. Instinctively, I place a protective hand on Arina’s lower back. Agafon turns to me and, behind him, I see my other brothers go various shades of red and pale in anger and shock.

“Ilariy?” he hisses, his eyes turning to Arina. They widen, and he steps forward angrily as he speaks coldly. “What the hell are you doing with Arina Sokolov?”

“Arina Sokolov?” my youngest brother, Rurik, speaks, checking with the rest for confirmation. When Nikandr gives him a nod, Rurik mutters, “Bloody hell.”

Arina shuffles her feet, visibly uncomfortable. I know she knows who they are because she scans the crowd and does a little count of how many there are. Just last night, I told her I had six brothers. Now, six men are standing in my foyer.

Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.

“Don’t just stand there mute!” Bogdan bellows. “You’ve been keeping company with Arina Sokolov, and you haven’t told us? The Bratva alliance won’t be happy about this.”

I wince as Arina gasps for air. She turns to me, wide-eyed. “What are they talking about, Ilariy?” she asks. “How do they know my name?”

“How do we know your name?” Faddey laughs. “Don’t act innocent. Our family and yours have been enemies for years.”

“We’ve been hunting your brothers down, surely, you must know that,” Agafon asks her directly.

She nods, and when she speaks, it’s almost a whisper. “I know our family owes yours some money, and I’m trying to—”

“Owe us money? You think we need your money?” Melor laughs. “Sweetheart, your family has three powerful Bratva organizations chasing them because they thought they could bring them down. The fact that they call themselves Bratva is a joke!”

“Ilariy…” Her voice trembles, “What the hell are they talking about? Y…You’re Bratva? Like…the mafia?”

I don’t know how to answer. I see the fear in her eyes. The horror. The shock.

Agafon steps forward. “Brother, just tell us what’s going on.”

I turn to face them, unable to face Arina. “Arina Sokolov is married to me. And until now, brothers, she had no idea we were the Bratva. So now, if you’d excuse me, can you please stop adding fuel to the fire?”

The entire room falls silent.