Page 32 of Forcibly Sold to the Bratva (Zolotov Bratva #14)

“Please, let me finish.” I look straight at Ilariy as I speak my next words.

“I want to be Ilariy’s wife. Not because I was forced and have some weird affection for my kidnapper.

I’m crazy but not that crazy.” At this, Tatiana and Katya giggle, and I flash them a grateful smile before I turn back to Ilariy.

“But because I choose you, Ilariy. The thing is, even if you hadn’t kidnapped me, even if we’d have met under different circumstances, I feel like we would have been sitting at this very table, having this very conversation.”

Ilariy’s eyes widen, and I see the moment my words sink in. His expression shifts and softens until he’s looking at me with such naked emotion that I have to catch my breath.

“Ridiculous,” Andrei mutters.

“It’s not,” I turn to Andrei. “He has always put my needs first. Even when I called him and was so cruel, saying the evilest things when I told him not to contact me, he came by your side to save me. Any man with half his pride would have let me rot in that warehouse, but he didn’t.

You were there, Tikhon. You saw how he backed away. How he put my choices first.”

Tikhon’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t contradict me.

“This is insane,” Alexey shakes his head. “You can’t seriously want—”

“I love Arina.”

Ilariy’s voice cuts through the argument, strong and clear. All eyes turn to him. I inhale, not expecting this turn of events.

“She’s been the only one for me for a long time now,” he continues, his gaze never leaving mine.

“She’s a Sokolov, but I made sure we accept her as our own.

She’s carved a place for herself in our family.

She is my wife, by law, and by will. She will always remain a Sokolov,” he addresses my brothers. “But she is the queen of my castle.”

My heart feels too big for my chest, swelling with a joy so intense it borders on pain.

“And she won’t have to choose if you decide so,” Ilariy says, finally looking at Tikhon. “Because I’m willing to end this feud, here and now.”

“What?” Andrei scoffs. “You say no feud, and we ought to believe you? How do we know you won’t come for us two, three, six years down the line?”

“You think we have something to prove to you?” Agafon roars in anger, and I feel Ilariy tense beside me. “You think I’m willing to shake hands with the men who ruined my brother's life? With the men who put a gun to my wife’s head? Tortured her?”

I feel my chest constrict, the panic now rising to blacken my vision. Beside me, Ilairy reaches over and squeezes my hand.

“We would never hurt a woman,” says Tikhon at last, his face ice-cold. “We never knew what Viktor did to your wife.”

My brother then turns to Lilibeth to address her directly. “I have a sister of my own. We may be many things, but there is a code of honor we respect. We can not apologize on behalf of Viktor, for he is gone, but please know we never supported his barbaric methods in how he dealt with women.”

“You didn’t stop him!” Agafon bellows.

“Because we weren’t there!” Andrei chimes in. “We helped plan the kidnapping, yes. But we were not in that warehouse.”

“That’s true, I don’t remember seeing you three,” Lilibeth says softly, and her eyes meet mine across the table, as though to say she understands how difficult this must be for me.

I shoot her a grateful look. Beside her, Agafon is still simmering, but when faced with facts, he is forced to control his temper.

“And what about Nikandr?” asks Bogdan.

“Your brother is a grown man. He made his choices!” Tikhon clenches his fist and glowers at Nikandr now.

This meeting is not going anywhere, and I feel like my hopes, my declarations, all of it are for nothing. But then, Ilariy speaks, and once again, I’m reminded of how much I need him. Right now, I am drowning. He’s come to my rescue, yet enough.

“Enough, please,” Ilariy puts a stop to them. “Arina and I love each other. As long as our families can’t find a way to build trust, we can’t move forward. We will spend the rest of our lives wishing things were different. Can you not, somehow, find a way to make this work? For us?”

“How?” Agafon furrows his brows. “How do we know they won’t turn on us the second they get a chance?”

“Because we love our sister, God damn it! If she’s in your care, why the hell would we turn on you?” Andrei hisses, and Tikhon gives him a warning glare.

“Very well,” Agafon says after considering it for a moment. “But we need something more to tie us together.”

A strange tension fills the air, one where I can tell the tides are changing and strategies are being made.

“What are you suggesting?” Tikhon asks cautiously.

“Another alliance,” Agafon replies. “We have common enemies, and our resources go to waste fighting them on individual ends. Together, we can bring them down quicker.”

“We are a smaller family than yours, less powerful.” Tikhon shakes his head. “Why would we risk our resources when you have so many?”

“Unless…”Alexei’s eyes widen as he darts between his families. I sit up straighter, already knowing what he’s about to suggest.

“Unless what?” Ilariy asks.

“Unless we have a good enough reason to lose our men for. Maybe another marriage. One Letvin, one Sokolov. You have our sister, and maybe if we had yours…” his voice trails off.

I hold my breath as the idea sinks in. Instinctively, my eyes go to Katya and Tatiana, both of whom look pale.

“Who?” Andrei asks bluntly.

“We can discuss the details later,” Agafon says smoothly. “After giving it some thought. The point is, we need more than Ilariy and Arina’s union to build a lasting peace, that is, if you want them to be happy.” At this, Agafon gives my brothers a pointed look.

Tikhon studies Agafon for a long moment, then glances at me. I try to convey all my hope, all my pleading in that look.

“We’ll consider it,” he says finally.

It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no either. Relief washes through me, and under the table, I feel Ilariy’s foot nudge mine. When I look up, the corner of his mouth lifts in the smallest smile, just for me.

The rest of dinner passes in a strange manner. There are no warm embraces or sudden friendships, but by the time dessert arrives, the conversation has shifted to an actual discussion of mutual interests.

When Tikhon finally signals for the check, I gather my courage once more.

“I’m going home with Ilariy tonight,” I announce.

Tikhon’s head snaps up. “Arina—”

“It’s my choice,” I say firmly. “I’m not asking permission.”

He studies me for a long moment, then nods once, curtly. “Call me tomorrow.”

As we leave the restaurant, Ilariy’s hand finds mine, his fingers intertwining with mine as if they were always meant to be there.

“That was brave,” he murmurs as we walk to his car.

“I was terrified,” I admit.

“Me too.” His thumb traces circles on my palm.

“I didn’t know if you’d back me up when I said I want to remain married to you,” I whisper shamefully.

He stops to turn to face me. “I meant every word I said in there. I love you, Arina.”

“So do I,” I whisper, looking into his eyes.

The kiss he gives me is gentle, a promise rather than a demand, but it sets my blood humming with anticipation.

“Take me home,” I whisper against his lips.

* * *

Seeing Ilariy’s house again feels like visiting an old friend welcoming me back with an embrace. No, not Ilariy’s house. Ours.

“I missed this place,” I say softly once we’re inside.

Ilariy comes up behind me and plants his hands on my waist. “It missed you too.” His lips brush against my ear. “I missed you.”

I turn in his arms, a sudden boldness overtaking me. I press my palms against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath my fingers.

“I missed this house,” I murmur, letting my hand trail down his chest, over his stomach, toward the waistband of his pants. “But I missed something else more.”

His breath catches as my fingers brush against the growing hardness beneath his zipper.

“Arina,” he warns, his voice rough.

“What?” I ask innocently, even as I press my palm more firmly against him. “Don’t you want me?”

“Of course I want you,” he growls as he grabs the nape of my neck and pulls me into a kiss so fierce that gentle seems to have left the building.

And I’m all for it. My entire body is a tornado, a hurricane, chaos unfolding for more.

Our teeth, lips, and tongues clash until they leave me gasping. My skin feels too tight, too hot, like I might burst into flames if he doesn’t touch me properly. It’s been too long since I felt him inside me, screamed out his name.

“Let’s go upstairs,” I gasp against his mouth.

A wicked grin spreads across his face. “As my wife commands.”

Before I can respond, he bends and hoists me over his shoulder. I squeal as he carries me up the stairs like some conquering warrior.

“Put me down!” I protest, but there’s no real conviction in it.

“Make me,” he challenges, giving my ass a playful swat that sends heat pooling between my thighs.

When we reach his bedroom, he tosses me onto the bed. I bounce into it and shove my hair out of my face. He’s standing at the foot of the bed, his eyes devouring me.

“Do you have any idea,” he says hoarsely, “how fucking hard it was to let you go?”

I sit up, my hands reaching for the hem of my dress. “Show me how much you missed me.”

His hands are on me before I can pull my dress off, his fingers curling around the neckline and tearing the fabric with a sharp rip that makes me gasp.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he growls, pushing the torn dress down my shoulders, exposing my bra.

I should be scandalized by the destruction of my clothing, but all I feel is a wild, heady desire. My hands fumble with his shirt buttons, too impatient to be careful.

“Fuck it,” I mutter, and yank the shirt open.

“That’s my girl,” he growls, now shedding off my bra. I reach for his pants. Soon, we’re skin to skin and he’s towering over, drinking in the sight of my naked body while I draw lines across his arms and chest with my fingers.

He bends lower to trail slow, hot kisses up my stomach, up my chest, and I feel his hardness press against my stomach as he straightens himself over me.

“Tell me what you want,” he asks as he gently tangles his fingers in my hair, pulling my head back to expose my throat to his hungry mouth.

“Don’t toy with me with these silly questions,” I gasp and reach between us to caress the tip of his cock. His teeth graze my neck when I do.

On seeing what it is I want, his hand slides between us and tests the wet heat between my thighs. He circles a finger at my entrance teasingly before pushing inside.

“You are so wet for me already,” he murmurs against my collarbone. “Did you think about this while you were away? Did you touch yourself and pretend it was me?”

I flush, remembering how I’d slipped my hand between my legs just last night, how I imagined Ilariy’s hands, his mouth, his cock.

“Yes,” I admit, and am rewarded with a second finger stretching me open.

His thumb finds my clit, circling with just the right pressure to make my hips buck. “Tell me,” he commands, his voice rough with desire. “Tell me what you imagined.”

“This,” I gasp as his fingers curl inside me, finding that spot that makes stars burst behind my eyelids. “Your fingers, your mouth... oh god, Ilariy, please...”

“Please what?” he teases, slowing his movements until I want to scream with frustration.

“Fuck me,” I demand, past the point of embarrassment. “I need you inside me. Now.”

A deep, triumphant possession flashes in his eyes, and then he’s positioning himself over me until the blunt head of his cock presses against my entrance.

“Look at me,” he says, and I do, meeting his gaze as he pushes inside in one long, smooth thrust that has both of us gasping.

For a moment, we’re perfectly still, joined, complete. I feel the stretch and burn of him filling me, the pressure that’s almost too much and not enough at the same time.

“I love you,” he whispers, and the words are as intimate as the way our bodies are connected. “I’ve never said that to anyone before, you know?”

My heart swells, and I reach up to cup his face. “I love you too, and it’s a first for me too.”

He begins to move then, slow at first. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him deeper.

“More,” I beg, my nails digging into his shoulders. “Harder.”

A savage grin crosses his face. “Turn over.”

I comply eagerly, rolling onto my stomach. His hands grip my hips, pulling me up onto my knees. I grab the headboard for support, arching my back in invitation.

The first thrust in this position drives the breath from my lungs. He’s deeper this way, hitting places inside me that make my vision blur.

“Fuck, Arina,” he groans, his fingers digging into my hips hard enough to make me cum just from the pleasurable pain of it. “You feel so good.”

His pace increases, each thrust harder than the last, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. One of his hands snakes around to find my clit, circling it in time with his thrusts, and I feel myself climbing toward release.

“That’s it,” he urges, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. “Come for me, love. Let me feel you.”

The pressure builds and builds until I can’t contain it anymore. My orgasm hits like a tidal wave, washing over me in pulses that have me crying out his name, my inner walls clenching around him.

He follows me over the edge with a hoarse shout, his hips jerking erratically as he empties himself inside me.

For long moments afterward, we stay connected, both of us trembling with aftershocks. Then he gently withdraws and collapses beside me, pulling me into the circle of his arms.

I rest my head on his chest, listening to the gradually slowing beat of his heart. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my back, and I feel a contentment so complete it borders on spiritual.

His arms tighten around me, and he kisses the top of my forehead. “I didn’t think I’d get to have this, you know?”

“Have what?”

“Love,” he says simply. “With a woman.”

I settle deeper into his chest, and when I look up at him, I see such tenderness that I know I would do anything for this man. “We could start fresh. Do anything.”

“Oh yeah?” he smiles. “Like what?”

“Like…start a family,” I whisper.

For a second, I wonder if I pushed too far, but then Ilariy smiles and looks positively ecstatic.

“I wish for nothing more. Welcome home,” Ilariy whispers, brushing his lips against mine.

And I am home. Finally, completely home.