Page 20 of Forcibly Sold to the Bratva (Zolotov Bratva #14)

It’s a beautiful Sunday afternoon when Ilariy and I pull up at Faddey’s house. It’s been three weeks since the incident outside the pottery class, and when Ilariy mentioned that Faddey’s birthday was coming up and I had received an invitation, I jumped at the chance to be here.

After that kidnapping event, Ilariy and his entire family have gotten so protective of Katya, Tatiana, and me that I feel like I haven’t had an opportunity to let loose.

Tatiana and Katya have included me in every single plan since then, but the only difference is that we are always followed and watched, and most of the plans we make are indoors.

But today seems to be perfect.

I clutch Faddey’s gift in one hand while Ilariy takes the other. I spent a whole hour packing it for him, refusing to let the maids assist. It’s the vase I made at the studio, and while it’s not expensive, I truly hope he likes it.

We stand at the gate to the back garden, and I’m ready to walk in when Ilariy leans close to my ear and whispers, “Nervous?”

“Excited, more like.” I smile up at him as he squeezes my hand. We step inside, and immediately, I feel a thrill shoot down my spine.

There’s lovely music blaring over the lawn speakers, and the sun shines just right through the trees sprinkled across the backyard. In one far corner, I see tables laden with food, and there’s a full-fledged bar beside it.

“Oh my god!” I squeal, looking around excitedly.

“You’re going to get drunk, aren’t you?” Ilariy rolls his eyes at me.

“Shitfaced,” I deadpan.

“How about we go see Faddey first? Before you get shitfaced?”

“Alright, alright,” I giggle, and together, we go in search of Faddey.

Ilariy sees him under one of the trees, chatting with Bogdan, Nikandr, and Rurik. We make our way over.

“There’s the birthday boy!” Ilariy pulls his brother into a hug.

Faddey grins back and searches Ilariy’s hands. “What the hell? Where’s my gift?”

“Right here!” I chime in, but Faddey’s more interested in pulling me into a hug first before he takes the gift.

“You really shouldn’t have!” he clutches the gift to his chest in an exaggerated motion before passing it on to Nikandr, who offers to put it aside.

“Says he after he takes it.” Rurik rolls his eyes, and Faddey playfully punches him in the arm.

“So, how many candles are we blowing out today?” I ask with a grin.

“37,” Faddey answers back.

“Will they all fit on the cake?” I tease.

“I forgot. You’re yet to hit 30!” Faddey groans and Ilariy laughs, pulling me closer with an arm around my waist.

Ilariy leans down, and I feel his lips brush against my ear. “How about that drink now?”

“Yes, please!” I answer, and we’re about to walk off when Katya appears at my side.

“Arina!” she squeals and pulls me into a hug before pulling away and giving me an approving once-over. “You look gorgeous. Yellow is definitely your color!”

“Thanks,” I say, smiling. “Where’s Tatiana?”

“Getting champagne. Want some before she hoards it all?”

“Yes, please.” I link my arm through Katya’s, and we begin to walk away.

“What about me?” Ilariy shouts in a grumble from behind us.

We throw a look over our shoulders at Ilariy, and Katya yells back. “Go play with your brothers.”

Ilariy smiles, dimples and all, as he watches us walk away. I’ve noticed that particular smile appearing more and more these days. It’s beautiful, relaxed, and genuine.

As Katya leads me through the crowd, I take a good look.

There are so many children playing, some splashing in the pool, while others play games on the lawn.

There’s a pretty tent over the patio with strings of lights hanging, to be turned on when the party carries into the night, I assume.

And it’s a huge party. There must be around fifty people, most of whom I’ve never met.

From a distance, I catch Agafon’s gaze. He raises his glass to me in cheers and slides a hand around his wife, pointing at me. Lilibeth looks over with the warmest smile and gives me a wave. I wave right back.

We met last week and I really like her. The girls brought her over for dinner and a movie last Saturday, and we had a lovely time together.

We catch up with Tatiana, who is engrossed in conversation with three men. It’s only when Katya taps on her shoulder that she turns and envelops me in a hug.

“I’m getting us champagne,” Katya says as she wanders off in search of some, while Tatiana turns to introduce me to the men she’s speaking with.

“Have you met the Orlovs yet?”

“Lovely to meet you.” I smile and suddenly feel awkward. I know the Orlovs are Letvins are close and in some alliance of some sort, but I don’t know what to do. Do I shake their hands?

I just stand awkwardly while Tatiana continues to speak. “Elena. Meet Lion and his younger brothers, Benedikt, Sergey, and Samuil. This is Arina, Ilariy’s wife.”

I try not to furrow my brows at the way she introduces me. Was there a hint of warning in her voice directed at her brothers? I believe I must be imagining it, but then Ardalion gives me a tight smile.

“My sister speaks highly of you,” he says, but a flicker of annoyance passes his face.

His sister? Then I remember—Lilibeth Orlov is married to Agafon. These must be her brothers.

Whatever for? I wonder.

Before I can say another word, they make hasty goodbyes and wander off.

“What was that about?” I ask Tatiana. She puts on a smile and waves them off.

“Nothing for you to worry about.” Her voice is cheerful. A little too cheerful. “They’re just old grumps.”

I take Tatiana’s word for it

Katya comes back with the champagne, and on the first sip itself, I decide I’m going to have fun today. No matter what.

We walk through the crowd, and Tatiana is giving me gossip on the extended family and alliance members, and I try to remember all the facts and names, but there’s such an onslaught of information that I find my mind wandering.

Just then, I’m brought back to the present when a child’s shriek cuts through the air. I scan the garden for the cause of the commotion, and what I see melts my heart.

Ilariy’s swinging a little boy in the air, making monster noises, and children are clamoring at his legs for attention. Ilariy sets him down and picks up another, then another, then another. He simply doesn’t stop, wrestling and tickling, laughing and joking.

Tatiana notices what has distracted me and leans in. “Ilariy’s always loved kids,” she tells me. “Even when we were kids, he used to put ribbons in our hair and doted on us as an older brother.”

“That’s true,” Katya adds. “He painted my nails once!”

“He let me paint his when I was ten!” Tatiana squeals, and the sisters laugh. “He was an adult then. An ADULT!”

“Really?” I ask and my heart does a little somersault, though I don’t know why.

“Mm-hmm,” Tatiana says in a way that makes my neck heat. When I look up at her, she wiggles her eyes and drawls, “Reallyyy…”

“Oh, stop it!” I chide, but my eyes go back to Ilariy. I can’t seem to look away from the sight of him on his hands and knees in his fancy clothes, letting children scramble onto his back.

For some reason, I find myself blushing.

“Never would have pegged him for a kid person,” I say, still watching.

“Children and animals,” Katya says knowledgeably. “They can sense a person’s true nature. If they trust him, there’s a reason.”

I take a sip of champagne to hide my confusion. Three weeks ago, I was furious at Ilariy for lying about who he was. Now, I’m watching him play with children, and the sight itself is melting my heart, making me feel like I was a terrible person for being angry at a man so… good.

And suddenly, I no longer know what’s right or wrong.

***

The afternoon unfolds like a dream. There’s plenty of food and drinks being passed around, and I find myself in the midst of dozens of interesting snippets of conversation. The champagne is loosening me up, and sometimes, Ilariy drops by to check on me.

But I’m always good and in pleasant company. But even when he walks away, even when he’s at a distance talking to someone, or racing around with children, he finds a moment to look in my direction.

Sometimes, our eyes meet, and I find my heart racing. When he breaks into a grin, I find my hands go clammy.

After Faddey cuts the cake, I find myself playing hostess, helping Lilibeth cut out slices and pass them around. For some reason, it feels totally natural.

By the time evening comes around, I find myself heading to the bar for one last glass, when to my surprise, I find Ilariy already there.

He’s behind the bar, which is now entirely empty since the crowd has dwindled and the remaining people have taken their drinks and bottles over to the porch.

Ilariy meets my gaze over the bar and smiles. “Need another?” He points at my glass.

“Yes, please,” I say, and hand it to him. When our fingers brush, a heat shoots down my spine.

He pours himself another beer and crosses over the bar to meet me and hand me my champagne.

“Come with me,” he says, his fingers intertwining with mine. “I want to show you something.”

It’s not out of curiosity that I follow. It’s from the simple fact that I just now realize how much I missed him this afternoon.

He leads me away from the garden, through a side exit, down a winding stone path that leads up to a pretty bench.

I giggle as I sit, and Ilariy takes a seat beside me. “Why is there a bench in the middle of nowhere?” I laugh.

“Faddey tends to want to escape the chaos our family is. He tried to keep this little nook hidden forever, can you imagine?” he gasps in mock horror, and I pretend to look equally horrified.

We sit there in silence for a while, our hands still intertwined, our backs bent against the bench. I take an occasional sip of champagne, and I feel completely light, completely happy, completely at peace.

“You had a good time?” Ilariy speaks first.

I answer honestly. “I had a lovely time. Your family, they’re truly lovely, Ilariy.”

He raises an eyebrow and gives me a wink. “You sure we’re talking about the same people?”

I twist my body to face him and smile, squeezing his hand. “Yes!” There’s a defensiveness in my voice. “It’s amazing how openly you all love each other.”

Ilariy sips his whiskey, his eyes never leaving mine. “What can I say? We’re a demonstrative bunch.”

“Is that normal?” I ask the question that’s been burning inside me all day. “For Bratva families, I mean. Are they all like yours?”

His expression turns serious, concerned as he searches my face as though he’s wondering why I’m asking. “No,” he says softly. “Not all of them.”

“So what’s the difference? Between yours and others?” My voice sounds small, unsure.

“I don’t know, Arina,” he sighs. “Some, like ours, put family first. Violence is a last resort, only to be used to protect and defend. But the others, I sometimes feel like they’ve forgotten why we build legacies in the first place. In their greed, they begin to hurt people, including their own.”

I bite my lower lip. “But everyone here, they’re not like that, right?”

“No, they aren’t.” He shakes his head. “The Zolotovs, The Orlovs, us. We aren’t cruel. But others, like Viktor, know no bounds.”

I suddenly feel the blood gush into my ears at the mention of Viktor’s name. I know I was the one to have asked, but a twig of anger forms in my heart.

Ilariy looks like he spoke too much. “I’m sorry,” he says, suddenly. “I shouldn’t have.”

But then, a strange moment of clarity passes. What am I doing? Asking questions and not wanting answers.

“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “You shouldn’t have. But you must . I’m done hiding under a rock, Ilariy. You once suggested that my brothers were Bratva, and I thought you were speaking from a place of pettiness. Was that true?”

“It is true,” he insists, gently.

“And you’re saying Viktor wasn’t like you? And my brothers?”

Ilariy nods. “Viktor crossed lines that shouldn’t be crossed. He targeted families and children, even.”

I feel cold despite the warm evening air. “And my brothers? Where do they fall in all this?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, and I can see him wrestling with what to tell me. Part of me still wants to believe it’s all a misunderstanding, but the rational part of me knows better. I’ve seen too much now.

“Your brothers supported Viktor and let him get away with his cruelty,” he says finally. “They knew what he did. Now, whether they fully understood how cruel his actions were... that I don’t know.”

I take a large swallow of champagne, needing its burn. “I still can’t believe it.” My voice cracks slightly. “How could they be involved in… in all this?”

Ilariy looks at me with such tenderness that my heart cracks. “I don’t know, Arina.”

We sit there for a moment, all my thoughts swirling into a confusing mess, but I know I need to put an end to this back and forth between us. I need to know which version of my brother is real and which is a figment of my imagination.

Finally, I speak. “I need to know the truth, Ilariy. I know you believe you speak the truth, but I need to see it for myself. I need proof of what they’ve done.”

His jaw tightens slightly. “You may not like what you find.”

“Maybe not,” I admit. “But I can’t keep hiding my head in the sand. I need to know who my family really is.”

Ilariy nods slowly and gently flicks his thumb over my cheek. “I’ll show you. I promise. But for now, how about we head back in and enjoy the remainder of the night?

For some reason, I feel afraid of the proposition. Not because I’m not having a wonderful time, not because I don’t enjoy his family’s company, but because I’m afraid this is Ilariy’s gift to me.

I fear he knows something really bad, and that he wants me to have one last night of peace.

But then again, it could just be my imagination running wild. I nod and stand, taking his hand to pull him up. He inches closer and wraps his arms around me, his eyes watching me tenderly.

“Tomorrow then,” I whisper.

“Tomorrow,” he whispers back, before bringing his lips to mine.