Page 4 of Forcibly Sold to the Bratva (Zolotov Bratva #14)

We’re now inside his house, if one can even call this place a house.

I rub my wrists, still raw from the handcuffs he removed once he brought me in here, and take a look around the mansion.

These ceilings are the tallest I’ve ever seen, and they’re all fluted and paneled and gilded with chandeliers that drip like diamonds.

It’s bigger than anything I’ve ever seen, and that scares me.

I think back to when I told Ilariy my brothers would go to the cops.

What was I thinking? This man has his own private army standing outside, guns and all.

Is that even legal? Then again, I doubt the police are much of a threat to this man.

He probably has friends among the force.

He probably rubs shoulders with politicians.

What the hell does he want from me?

My whole life, I’ve lived in beautiful penthouses, and that’s been my benchmark for being rich.

Now, I realize that wealth has no bounds.

My eyes sweep across his living room, and I nearly gape when I see an original Monet on his wall.

I read about this piece in the paper. It was auctioned off for an audacious amount—like twenty million dollars or something.

This man, whoever he is, is dangerous, rich, and powerful. And I happen to be married to him.

To say my heart races and knees tremble doesn’t even cover the fear coursing through me. I’m so very afraid that I freeze, not knowing what to do with myself.

Or him.

He walks toward me, and I feel like he’ll open his jaws and swallow me whole. That’s how petrified I am. He’s obviously mistaken me for someone else. The question is, how do I convince him of that simple truth?

“Like what you see, princess?” he asks, and I snap my eyes to meet his.

“I told you already. Don’t call me that,” I say without thinking, and his strong, powerful jaw twitches. I immediately regret my words. I’m at his mercy, and I have to remind myself that making this man angry is a spectacularly bad idea.

But there’s something about him that makes me snap like I have verbal diarrhea or something. He kidnapped me and forced me to marry him. Can anyone blame me?

He motions toward a chair. “Would you like to sit?”

“No.” I shake my head defiantly.

His jaw twitches again, and he shrugs. “Fine. Be obstinate.”

“I’m not being obstinate!” I snarl back.

“All I’m saying is, you’ve had a long day, and you must be tired. Make yourself at home,” he says, calmly now.

For some reason, that only infuriates me further. “This is NOT my home! I don’t intend to stay here much longer, thanks.”

He steps closer, but for some reason, I no longer cower.

I stand firm and look up at him, my arms crossed in front of my chest. I cock an eyebrow in his direction, and he looks into my eyes and smiles.

For the first time, I notice just how gorgeous that dimple is.

What a waste of such good looks on a man this ridiculous, I think to myself.

“This is your house because you’re now my wife. Congratulations. You can try leaving, but you won’t get too far. I’ve got men everywhere,” he says with that devilish smile, almost like he’s enjoying this.

“I’d rather be dead than your wife,” I bite back.

“You might as well have been,” he says, running a hand down his hair, beginning to look frustrated. “If I hadn’t saved you—”

“Saved me?” I shriek with a short, sarcastic laugh. “This isn’t saving me!”

“Answering my questions is better than death, princess. Don’t you think?”

“God, I’m so tired of you calling me that,” I can’t help but roll my eyes.

For a brief second, I see his lips upturn into a smile, but he covers it up quickly with that ice-cold look he levels my way.

It’s strange, but being up so close, seeing how warm those honeyed eyes are, the cold doesn’t seem to suit him.

“I’m so tired of you playing dumb,” he says, and begins to circle me. I crane my neck, watching his every move. Once again, I remind myself not to get caught in his jaws. I’m just a fish, and he’s a shark. Tone it down, Arina .

“Where are your brothers?” he asks from my left.

I turn to face him and shrug. “I don’t know. Working. They work late.”

“What are they working on?” he fires right back.

I roll my eyes. “They run restaurants. Restaurants close late. Then they have accounts, restocking, and staff issues. There’s a lot that goes into feeding people, you know?”

“I’m not here for a lesson in the restaurant business,” he snarls. “I want to know what your brothers do!”

“That’s what they do!” I insist. “Viktor, our cousin, used to run a bunch of them, and when he died, it all fell on my brothers. Before that, they helped him out and did their own thing.”

“Their own thing?” he asks, suddenly sounding interested.

“Yes. I’m not sure what. Tikhon was into import-export. Andrei and Alexey sometimes helped him, and Alexey really likes marketing. He freelanced for a bit.”

“Really?”

“Yes!” I throw my hands into the air in exasperation. “They’ve always travelled a lot. They’ve got clients all over the world.”

“And now?”

“They still travel.” I look at him like he’s grown two heads. “It’s hard finding the right ingredients.”

“Will you please stop talking about ingredients and restaurants?” Ilariy’s face turns nearly red. “You expect me to believe that Tikhon Sokolov spends his time thinking about cheese and wine?”

“I don’t know what he spends his time thinking,” I cry out in helplessness. “He’s…Tikhon. He’s just as ordinary as anyone I know. He can barely kill a spider! He calls on me to do it!”

“Right.” He steps closer, so close that his chest brushes against mine. For a brief moment, I see his eyes flicker, feel my heart race, before he steps back, just an inch. “Tell me where they are now.”

“Like I said. I don’t know. If you’d let me call them…”

“You can call them when I say you can call them.” His voice is strong, commanding. I feel like I could wither beneath it, but for some reason, it only makes me more defiant.

“Tell me,” I ask, “Does believing what you want make you think it becomes true? I told you already. You’ve got the wrong family!”

Something in Ilariy’s expression shifts, almost like he’s pondering my words. I take a deep breath of relief, believing I might have gotten through to him when he crosses his arms over his chest, and my heart begins to race again at the sight of those rippling muscles.

My mouth goes dry. What the hell am I thinking? Finding him hot? I must have truly gone insane.

“Your brothers,” he says slowly after collecting his thoughts, “have been part of the Bratva for years. They’ve been an ugly thorn on our side for years now, and I intend to put a stop to it.”

I shake my head vehemently, and my anger rises fast. “You’re insane. My brothers are businessmen. Just because we’re Russian doesn’t mean we’re in the mafia! And what exactly have my brothers done to hurt your family?”

“They—” he freezes, like there’s something he wants to say but doesn’t. Then, he meets my glare. “They’ve taken from us. Your cousin Viktor stole from us.”

“Stole what?” I ask.

“Shipments. Truckloads of money. You won’t dare imagine,” he glowers and watches for a reaction.

I go pale and whimper. “Truckloads of money?”

“Shipment of cash heading toward my casinos and hotels,” he says impatiently.

Casinos. He owns casinos and hotels. I gulp and take a look around, understanding now how he happens to be so wealthy.

“Have you ever seen your brothers with a security detail?” he asks. “Are their vehicles bullet-proofed? When they travel abroad, where do they go most? Russia?”

His questions play on my mind, making me feel dizzy. “There’s a lot of cash involved in the import-export and restaurant business,” I try to explain, but in my mind, he’s managed to plant a seed of doubt. “It’s for… security,” I finish.

“And Russia?” he asks, realizing he’s got me here.

“We’ve got family there,” I say defiantly, casting aside all doubt. There’s no way I’m letting him toy with me, letting him wheedle himself into my brain. I have no idea what his agenda is, but he won’t be the one to turn me against my brothers. Not tonight. Not ever.

Ilariy moves closer again, until I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “Tell me where they are meeting right now.”

“I don’t know!”

“Don’t lie to me,” he says softly, but I know it’s not him being polite.

“I’m not lying!” I shout back, surprising both of us with my volume. “And even if I did know, why would I tell you? You kidnapped me! You forced me to marry you! You’re keeping me prisoner!”

His eyes flash dangerously. “Because your brothers hurt people I care about.”

“My brothers wouldn’t hurt anyone,” I insist. “You’re mistaken. They don’t have the bandwidth or desire to go head- to-head with casino owners! Don’t you understand they’re simple people.”

“Your brothers,” Ilariy says with contempt, “are monsters. And you’re either the best actress I’ve ever met, or they’ve kept you in the dark about everything.”

“I’m not acting!” My frustration boils over, and I step forward, getting right in his face. “And if my brothers are such monsters, what does that make you? You bought me from those men like I was property! You seem pretty damn monstrous yourself, Ilariy!”

For a moment, he looks stunned at my outburst. Then, unexpectedly, his lips quirk into something almost like a smile. “You’ve got fire, princess. I’ll give you that.”

“Stop calling me princess,” I hiss, though the fight is draining out of me. I’m exhausted, terrified, and increasingly confused about everything I thought I knew.

“What should I call you then? Wife?” He says the word with cruel mockery.

“My name is Arina. Use it or don’t speak to me at all.”

“Fine, Arina.” He steps back, creating some distance between us. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Where are your brothers?”