Page 33 of Prince of Control (Bratva Heirs #1)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Lara

Wednesday night, Baron takes me out to a fancy dinner and gets me tipsy on a hundred dollar bottle of wine and lobster.

He pulls me close as we leave the restaurant. “I loved our first date.”

“Is that what we’re calling this?” I tease. Having a first date after I’ve already done everything else with this man–married him, had wild and crazy sex, broken the law, played in a dungeon–seems laughable.

But he’s right. It felt like a first. I had the fizz of excitement in my belly when he told me he was taking me out, and I have it now going home with him.

This is the first date I wanted to go on with him. Even though he came on strong before, now that I care whether he loves me or not, his attention puts a glow of happiness around me.

We get to the SUV, and he opens my door and hands me in.

He leans his arm against the doorframe like he did that first day he picked me up from the airport. He looks like he’s going to say something, then seems to change his mind and shuts my door and gets into the driver’s seat.

As we drive back toward campus, the sound of sirens grows louder.

I crane my neck, peering out the window. “What do you think is going on?” I ask. “Is that smoke?”

“I think it’s possible there was a fire at Titan House while no one was there.”

I suck in a sharp breath as I realize our date was also a public alibi for Baron. I consider it for a moment. Do I hate that he took down the organization that tried to pin a rape charge on my husband and assaulted a young woman to do so?

No. No, I don’t.

I also appreciate that he said no one was there. So he didn’t harm anyone. He just got retribution. The Titan House parties suffering as a result of Baranov House activities will no longer be an issue this year.

“Well,” I say, “That sounds like karma to me.”

Baron looks over with a flicker of relief, and I realize he was bracing for my reaction. The flutters start up again.

We pull up and park in front of Baranov House, but Baron doesn’t move to get out.

He shuts off the engine. “Lara…I want to answer your question. The one you asked the other night that I dodged. About why you’re really here.”

I brace myself as my pulse picks up speed. What could it be? What use could they have for me? Or what trouble is my dad in?

What in the hell is going on, and why am I their pawn?

“My dad asked me to marry you to keep you safe.”

I blink at him. That doesn’t make sense. His dad is the threat. The one whose threats made us unsafe.

“I don’t understand.”

Baron opens his mouth but then looks past me through the window. His face transforms into a look of dark rage.

“ Blyad’, ” he swears and throws open the door.

I twist to look out the window. It takes me a breath for my brain to catch up to what my eyes see. Or at least to process it.

Brash Rostov is here. He’s here, reaching to open my door.

I freeze for a moment. Is he here for me? I remember Baron saying he knew Brash from boarding school. Is this about something between the two of them?

My door swings open, and I hear Baron snarl, “Get away from my wife.”

Brash reaches in and unbuckles my seatbelt, dropping a light kiss on my cheek when he leans in.

I jerk away, confused. “Brash, what are you doing here? I told you not to come.”

Baron grabs Brash’s shoulder and yanks him back.

Brash whirls and punches Baron, who ducks and delivers a left jab to Brash’s gut.

“Don’t move!” several voices boom in Russian at the same time a flood of men carrying automatic rifles swarm around the two men.

“ Bozhe moi! Stop!” I jump out of the car.

My fear is all for Baron, but I’m annoyed with him too. Why does he have to be so damn possessive?

Brash’s upper lip lifts in a snarl, but he ignores Baron and turns to look at me. “Lara, you can forget this marriage entirely. You don’t have to give up your studies and your apartment and everything you loved in Paris and let these thugs orchestrate your life.”

My chest tightens. “Brash, I told you not to come.” I try to look past him at Baron. Brash keeps his body between mine and Baron’s. I suppose he thinks he’s protecting me. They both do. It would be sweet if it weren’t so stupid. I don’t need rescuing.

“Do you know why you had to marry him?” Brash jerks his thumb derisively at Baron.

I try to seek Baron’s eye again, but he doesn’t at me; he’s just glaring murderously at Brash.

I shouldn’t have to explain this to Brash. He has greatly overstepped. “I told you, our parents arranged it when we were children. My life is with Baron now. I’ve accepted it.”

Well, maybe not the life, but I’ve accepted Baron.

“It was because of me,” Brash snarls.

I draw my brows together. Of all the arrogant, narcissistic things to say.

Except I finally catch Baron’s gaze, and he looks furious. Like Brash just revealed a truth he didn’t want told.

Like… it might be true.

What was he about to tell me before Brash arrived? The real reason I’m here.

“You had ‘interest from another party’.” Brash makes air quotes around interest from another party part. “ Me.”

“Benji Baranov couldn’t stand me moving in on his possession. He knew I have the power to stop this union. And so they whisked you off before you could tell me about the marriage and get my help.”

I didn’t know about the marriage, so there would’ve been nothing to tell.

It sounds absurd, but I see the truth crawl over Baron’s face. He’s not denying it. He’s glancing at the guns around us, like he’s wondering if he can fight his way out of this.

Icy prickles cover my skin. The same sense of betrayal I felt the day my father showed up at my apartment storms through my body.

“Baron?” I ask. “Is this true?”

His teeth clench, and he breathes through flared nostrils. He wears the same look he wore when Lili was trying to get him to stop killing the guy he thought had drugged her at the party. Like he’s in warrior mode and will do anything to protect what’s his.

“Baron!” I snap.

He doesn’t look away from Brash when he answers me. “Not exactly.”

Not exactly. Not. Exactly.

What the actual fuck?

Can this be true? That means this whole thing was orchestrated by my father and Baron together.

My dad made me think his and my mother’s lives were in danger when actually this is all because he feared the man I was dating could protect me from his machinations.

From being a pawn and his stupid bratva games. From marrying Baron.

And Baron was either so competitive with Brash or so possessive of me–a woman he didn’t even know–that he had to steal me away. Win me for his own.

I feel sick.

Furious tears flood my eyes. I need to get away–from all of them. But especially Baron. I turn and run down the sidewalk in my strappy heels.

“Lara,” Brash calls after me.

Baron says nothing; he just stands there looking like he wants to murder Brash. I guess the guilt is too much for him. For some reason, that enrages me even further.

How dare he seduce me? Manipulate me? Knowing he was taking me out of the arms of another man.

Knowing my father pulled the plug on my life in Paris on a whim and made me believe it was life or death to come here.

He was a part of this entire game orchestrated by my father.

All of them toying with my life, my affections, my reality.

Gospodi!

How dare he make me fall for him? Make me care about being loved by him?

How dare he stand there and say nothing? Say, that’s not exactly true .

His is the biggest betrayal of all.

“Move and die,” one of the Russian soldiers barks at him in Russian.

Good. He doesn’t get to follow me. I’m not under his control anymore. I won’t be controlled by him ever again. Not by him or my father.

“Lara.” Brash’s car pulls up beside me as I clomp down the sidewalk. The passenger door swings open as Brash drives slowly.

I don’t want to be with Brash. I don’t want to be with anyone. But I actually have nowhere to go if I don’t accept Brash’s help.

I stop walking, and he hits the brakes to match me. We look at each other through the open door.

He’s a handsome man–a sharp dresser with a Rolex on his wrist. He can be charming and respectful. He’s well moneyed and powerful. It’s true. His father probably has the power to protect me from my own father.

Not that I should require protection.

The fact that I do makes me want to scream at the top of my lungs.

If I go with Brash now, he can get me out of here. I need space to figure out what I want to do.

Against my will, I look back over my shoulder at Baron standing on the grass in front of Baranov House, surrounded by gunmen pointing their weapons at him.

He’s looking straight at me, and I know I’m right because he’s no longer jealous or controlling. He looks gutted. His hands aren’t in the air, but there’s a look of shock in his frozen form. He knows he’s wrong.

He knows he’s lost me.

And that’s the moment my heart splits open and falls in two pieces on the sidewalk. One half still wants Baron to pick it up and make things right. The other half never wants to speak to him again.

I pull the ring off my finger and fling it in his direction then climb into the front seat of the car and slam the door. As Brash peels out, a sick panic spreads through my body over the piece of my heart I left convulsing on the sidewalk.

I squeeze my eyes closed and will it to die along with all my memories of my time with Baron.

It’s over. It never should have been.

I’m done with Benjamin Baranov.

Baron

I stand rooted to the lawn, staring after Brash’s car.

I could not have fucked this up more.

My one job was to keep my wife out of Brash Rostov’s clutches, and I failed.

She ran away from me and straight into his car. The image of her flushed face, eyes bright with tears, makes me want to drop to my knees. Her sense of betrayal couldn’t have been more clear.

I don’t get to complete my self-flagellation because someone knocks me to the ground with what must be the butt of an AK-47 aimed at the back of my head.

I land on my hands and knees, my head ringing.

The men descend on me. One of them kicks me in the ribs, and another catches me in the face with his steel-toed boot.

I don’t try to fight back–I’m unarmed. I wouldn’t survive. All I can do is curl up in a ball and protect my head with my arms. The bruising blows keep landing, and I can’t help feeling like I deserve them.

This is what I get for hurting Lara.

Except she still needs me.

She may have run from me and willingly climbed in Rostov’s car, but she’s not safe with him. Not in the slightest bit. I need to get out of this, so I can get to her.

The blows keep falling, and my ears start to ring.

No, that’s our fire alarm going off.

One of my friends must have turned it on. Probably Phoenix.

I chuckle through bloodied lips because the maneuver works. After a few more kicks, the men abandon beating me and jump in their cars, speeding off in the direction Brash drove.

I try to stagger to my feet, but instead, the grass comes rushing up to meet my face, and then everything goes black.