Page 15 of Forcibly Sold to the Bratva (Zolotov Bratva #14)

The air in my lungs feels like cement, refusing to move, and I’ve never felt panic like this. Ilariy’s brothers stare at him in shock after his declaration that I’m his wife, but I can’t bring myself to care about whatever trouble he’s in.

I can’t stop thinking about what they just said. Ilariy and his family… they’re Bratva? Ilariy mentioned the word once when we were getting married. He claimed my brothers were Bratva, and I’d laughed it off.

I still won’t believe that. In fact, now I can’t. Why the hell would I trust a man who kidnapped me? Suddenly, everything falls into place.

I’ve been married to a mobster for weeks and didn’t even know it. Didn’t even consider it when we had men on our heels, when I got nearly taken off the street in Cancun. My body feels hollowed out, like someone has scooped away everything I thought I knew and left nothing but questions.

“That’s impossible,” I finally manage to say. “My brothers run restaurants. And you,” I say, turning to Ilariy, hoping he’ll put a stop to this madness and tell me his brothers have a bad sense of humor. “What are your brothers saying? That you’re some crime family? Please, Ilariy…”

I beg him to make this go away. His jaw locks into place, and I see the pain flicker in his eyes. I gasp and step back, shaking my head. “No! Please, no!”

“You had no idea?” Agafon now addresses me in a gentle tone. “Truly?”

I shake my head, suddenly feeling dizzy. “No. How would I? I never even knew what the Bratva was,” I whisper. “Ilariy, he… took me. Married me and said my family owes him a debt.”

“Ilariy!” Agafon sounds shocked, and I look up at his oldest brother, waiting for him to tell me this is all a joke.

“You seriously married her?” Melor asks like he can’t believe it. “When did this happen?”

“The night I found her,” Ilariy answers, avoiding my gaze. “It’s not how I planned to tell you.”

“Did you plan to tell us at all?” Faddey, I think, from how Ilariy described him in Cancun, asks. “We came because we haven’t heard from you, and now we find you’ve married into the family that—”

“I said that’s enough,” Ilariy cuts him off, like he’s protecting me from something. “She didn’t know.”

At this, Agafon steps in. “I think you two could use some time alone.” His eyes dart between Ilariy and mine.

Ilariy reaches for my arm, but I flinch away. In Cancun, I started trusting him. Now, I don’t know what to believe.

“Arina, please?” he asks, motioning toward the living room.

With trembling legs, I follow. Once inside his living room, alone, I feel like whatever we had going on is shattering with each passing second.

Even after Cancun, when I thought we trusted each other, when he had every opportunity to answer my questions, he didn’t bother to tell me he’s a part of the Bratva. I don’t know what to do but fight, to rage, to be livid by that betrayal of trust.

“You lied to me.” My voice is strangled as I try to hold back tears. “About everything.”

“I never told you what I did,” he counters, as if that’s a defense.

“You let me believe you were some hotel and casino mogul!” My voice rises, cracks at the edges.

“You showed me such a different side to you in Cancun, and I think I finally understood the kind of man I was dealing with. I knew you kidnapped me. I knew you were dangerous. But I let myself believe that maybe— maybe —you weren’t the kind of dangerous that could get me killed. ”

Then, I look up at him with tears in my eyes. “But all this time, you were in the Bratva. What is the Bratva, exactly? What do you do?”

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, but for the first time since I started asking questions, he answers.

“The Bratva is the Russian mafia. We control territories and run businesses. Some are legitimate, like hotels and casinos. Others, well, they can get us into trouble. Protection rackets. Smuggling. Some drug trade.” His voice weakens toward the end.

Each word drives into me like a nail. “And my brothers?”

“They do the same. Our families have been rivals for generations. Recently, your cousin Viktor crossed us, and it escalated into a war.”

I feel my eyes widen, refusing to believe what he’s saying. “How dare you?” I hiss. “Viktor might have done whatever, but my brothers are nothing like what you say. They aren’t criminals. Viktor crossed you, and you’ve painted us all with the same brush. How could you?”

Ilariy looks at me like I’ve crushed his heart, like I can’t see what he does, and it makes me feel small, weak. But I refuse to let him manipulate me.

“So, Viktor crossed you, and you decided to kidnap me. Why?”

“Because, Arina,” he sighs and speaks like each word is torture for him. “Your brothers helped him, and I thought you were involved at first. When I learned you weren’t, I thought I’d keep you as … leverage,” he struggles with the last word.

“Leverage?” I gasp, clutching at my chest from how it hurts.

“If I had you, I thought I could draw your brothers out.”

“That’s why you forced me to marry you? To use me against my family?

All this time, I thought our marriage meant I was paying off my brothers’ debts, but …

that’s not going to happen, is it?” My voice catches, humiliation burning through me as I remember how willingly I’d kissed him just hours ago, how I’d almost let him sleep with me.

“No.” He shakes his head reluctantly, and his answer burns on the already festering wound in my heart. “That’s not going to happen.”

“What was your grand plan here, Ilariy?” I choke as I try to hold back a sob. “Was Cancun all part of the plan? Were you… trying to seduce me to hurt me, like you want to hurt my brothers?”

“No!” he protests without wasting a second. “Cancun wasn’t planned. That just... happened.”

“Nothing ‘just happens’ with you,” I hiss. “For all I know, you arranged those men to chase us so you could play the hero and put one more feathered lie under your cap.”

Anger flashes in his eyes. “You seriously think I would do something like that?”

At the back of my mind, I know that’s a far-fetched theory, but I can’t admit to my words being an exaggeration when I’m so very angry.

He stops and takes a breath. “I didn’t plan that. Or what happened between us.”

“Let me go,” I demand, crossing my arms over my chest, unable to see beyond the facts I know. “Now that I know, there’s no point keeping me here. I’m useless to you, and I’ll fight you every single day until you let me go.”

“I can’t do that,” he says, and sounds sad while he does.

“Why not?” I take a step back, suddenly afraid of what this means. All this time, staying with him felt like a choice. Now, I wonder if it was even a choice for me to make.

“Because you’re still my wife,” he says simply. “By law. And now you know about our world, and it’s dangerous for you out there.”

I press my hands to my face, trying to keep from screaming. Everything is upside down, and I don’t know what to make of it.

“Arina,” he whispers. “This wasn’t how I wanted you to find out.”

I look up at his face and let out a dry, sarcastic laugh. “Did you ever want me to find out?”

“Every day in Cancun, I thought of telling you. Every time you asked, I wanted nothing more.”

“Then why didn’t you?” I ask, my face furrowing in pain. “Why, Ilariy?”

“Because—” He looks at me like he’s afraid I’m glass that could shatter at his hand. “I didn’t want you to see me like you do now. I didn’t want to be a monster in your eyes, Arina. Don’t you see? What you think of me matters…so very much. I was afraid of myself.”

I hold on to every word he says, and it acts as a balm to my anger, helping me temper down the storm within. The more he speaks, the more I begin to understand.

“Oh, Ilariy,” I whisper, still angry, but willing to listen.

He looks up at me with hope, not yet finished. “I was afraid that if you found out, you could be in danger. I feared you’d get scared and run, and someone could have taken and hurt you just to get to me. All of those possibilities seemed to be the death of me.”

He looks torn, and I feel my heart opening just a crack as I begin to see the gray in this mess. The part where he can’t be all that bad. I think back to the Ilariy I know, the funny, kind, generous man who joked with the street vendors in Cancun, who listened to my anecdotes without losing focus.

That version is also Ilariy. Ilariy might be a criminal, but he’s also good. Kind.

“Arina, please understand. I didn’t plan for any of this to happen. I never wanted to hurt you,” he whispers.

He looks so conflicted, so torn, that the part of me that still wants to lash out settles down like a little kitten. There will be time to talk later, but for now, I think he and I are both tired.

“I think I’ll need some time, Ilariy, to process all you’ve told me. I hear you, I do. Once, I might have thought of you as a monster, but I know better now.”

His eyes widen, and his shoulders drop. Relief washes over his face—utter, delighted relief.

“This doesn’t mean I’m not angry,” I explain.

“I understand,” he nods. “I never should have lied.”

“But you did, and finding out like this hurts. But… in time, maybe I’ll understand.”

He nods, and we stand there in silence, neither of us knowing what to say next. Just then, Ilariy’s phone buzzes, and after he checks the text, he looks at me with guilt.

“What?” I ask, expecting something bad. Something worse.

“My sisters are coming too,” he grimaces. “They’re insisting on a family dinner. I can show you to your room and you can hide out, if you like. Though, of course—” He looks even guiltier, like he doesn’t want to say it, “—they’d love to meet you.”

The logical thing to do would be to refuse. But the thought of being alone with my thoughts right now is almost worse than facing his family. At least around them, I might learn something useful.

“No,” I say. “I’ll stay for dinner.”

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the dining room is full of company. For a little while, I stay on the sidelines, even though Ilariy’s brothers try to make me feel included. But the thing is, I’m utterly nervous and completely out of my depth, intimidated by what I know of his family.

But soon, two women enter, and the room feels like it has taken a breath of fresh air.

“You must be Arina!” The taller one rushes to my side and pulls me into a hug.

“We can’t believe our brother got married and didn’t tell us!” The younger one, Katya, pulls me into a hug right after Tatiana.

Both of them, I notice, have the most gorgeous eyes.

“And why don’t you have a drink in your hand?” Tatiana huffs as she turns to her brother. “Ilariy, you kidnap this woman and refuse to let her drink?”

I nearly choke at her words, and Katya laughs and leans in. “We swear we had no idea what our brother was up to. But honestly? What a dick move!”

“You heard?” I ask, shocked at how the sisters know.

“Our brothers are gossip mongrels.” Katya rolls her eyes while Tatiana proceeds to force Ilariy to pour me a drink. He looks so nervous as she chides him and forces him to put a little umbrella in my cocktail, and his flustered hands tremble when he hands me my drink.

I give him a look filled with pity, and he gives me one like a child being bullied on the school playground.

What the hell is happening here? Here I am, thinking this is going to be some kind of Godfather movie, but it’s becoming more like the Brady Bunch with every passing second.

I take a sip of my cocktail, and Ilariy’s sisters lead me straight to the couch.

“We heard you were in Cancun,” Tatiana asks excitedly. “Tell us all about it.”

I find myself relaxing around the girls. Honestly, their bright energies help me not think. I tell them about the trip and leave out some of the details. By the time I’m done, Katya sighs and says she hasn’t had a vacation in a long time.

“You know what we should do?” Tatiana says excitedly, grabbing my hand and her sister’s. “We should have a girls’ trip!”

I don’t want to deny them the pleasure, but I also have a feeling Ilariy won’t let me go on this said trip. Nevertheless, it’s fun sitting around listening to the two sisters discuss these fun plans. While I sit, I look around the room.

Ilariy is there, deep in conversation with Agafon. He looks up when I enter, our eyes meeting briefly before I look away.

Ghost words whisper against my skin. He’s Bratva.

Soon, the housekeeper ushers us into the dining room, and we all take our seats.

Ilariy sits to my right, and Katya sits on the other side of me.

The conversation flows easily at the start, with the men discussing a football match and Melor’s new car.

It’s as if I’ve entered some parallel universe where they’re just a normal family, and I’ve imagined them to be the Bratva.

Or maybe, whatever I’ve read and watched on crime families is a lie.

I don’t know what the truth is, but I simply listen, still too intimidated and shocked to offer any words.

“Wine?” Rurik leans across the table and pours some glasses, finally landing over mine.

I nod, and he gives me a warm smile as he pours it out for me. I take a large sip and find it soothes my nerves.

“This chicken is amazing,” Faddey says through a mouthful of food.

“I taught the maid how to make it,” Ilariy says proudly. I look at him in surprise. For some reason, I never imagined him as someone who would delight in culinary exploration.

“With my recipe,” Katya adds, giving me a pointed look, as if she doesn’t like the fact that I look impressed with Ilariy.

For the first time that evening, I laugh.