Page 15 of Taken by the Bratva (Bychkov Bratva #1)

Aria

I’m on cloud nine.

I’m floating through the sky as the sun sets, with the fiery colors painting me like I’m a part of the show.

Daniil went inside after fucking me like an animal, but I insisted he lay me down on one of the chairs around the pool. I fell into a blissful sleep, and when I came to, I was greeted by the most beautiful sunset I’ve seen in quite some time.

The golden yellows, oranges, and pinks drench the sky, surrounding me with vibrancy that’s warming me despite the chill I’m feeling after being out here all day.

I wait until the sun dips out of view before making my way inside. My stomach is growling, but I need to rinse off the chlorine before eating. I hurry upstairs to shower, and checking the time, I see that my twenty-four hours is almost over, so I throw on a tight cropped white tank and a pair of tiny sleep shorts. Neither leaves much to the imagination.

I make two French braids in my hair and moisturize every inch of my body, loving the color I got today because it gives me a glow with no makeup on.

Bounding down the stairs, I go right to the kitchen to cook dinner. I have no idea if Daniil has plans for anything, but we didn’t have dinner last night after his brothers left and I only had a light breakfast this morning, so I’m not waiting for him to emerge from wherever he is to find out. I more than know my way around a kitchen. It’s practically a requirement in my family.

I spot the chicken in the fridge and am immediately inspired. I trim the fat and toss the pieces in an array of spices before cooking them in a pan on the stove. At the same time, I put a pot of water on to boil for pasta and get started on a salad.

When I’m done with the sauce, Daniil still hasn’t showed, and while I could easily eat alone without a problem, I actually want his company.

I cover the dishes to keep them warm and then head off to search this massive house for the man I’m quickly becoming addicted to.

The upper floor is all bedrooms, so I start on this floor and walk through the living room and down a hall, passing a series of closed doors without hearing a sound coming from any of them.

I go back to the kitchen and take the stairs down to another expansive living room that bleeds out onto the patio with the pool. Wow, this one is just as gorgeous as upstairs. Since Daniil kept my blindfold on when he brought me in from the car, I didn’t get to see much of the house. I’m also not much of a snooper to have thought about doing that this afternoon. Snooping would not have stood in my house growing up.

I hear Daniil’s deep voice in the distance, low and muffled, and head down the hallway towards it. I round a corner and see a door slightly ajar at the end, with his voice more prominent now.

I’m suddenly nervous for some reason and chew on my lower lip as I approach slowly. I don’t want to interrupt him if he’s working in case it’s important, but I don’t want to spend the week afraid of him.

The clattering of a phone returning to its cradle tells me his phone call is over, so I take the chance to knock on the solid wood door.

“Come in,”

he clips, and I hesitate for a moment before pushing the door open.

Wow, this office is magnificent.

Almost half the room is rounded outward and made of glass, giving way to a gorgeous view of the side of the yard I didn’t explore today. It’s a garden bursting with a variety of colorful flowers and vibrant green plants, all lit up by little lights placed strategically throughout the plants to showcase them. I’m going to have to see it in the daylight tomorrow.

The rest of the office is covered in floor to ceiling bookshelves that even has a latter to climb to reach the top like in the movies.

“Do you need something?”

Daniil asks, and I have to think for a moment why I came looking for him again. He’s sitting behind a massive mahogany desk that currently only has a laptop and a landline phone on it. He’s in a black t-shirt now, and his muscular arms are on display for me to ogle.

“No,”

I say first, then correct myself.

“I mean, sort of. I made dinner and came to find you to see if you were hungry and maybe wanted to eat with me?”

Why am I so nervous?

“You’re inviting me to have dinner with you?”

he deadpans, and I’m immediately embarrassed.

“Right. Forget it. You’re busy. I should’ve known.”

I shake my head and take a step back.

“I’ll put it away when I’m finished and you can have some when you’re done working.”

I quickly turn around to leave, but his harsh command stops me.

“Stop.”

My feet are frozen to the carpet, facing the hallway with my hand on the brass doorknob.

“Turn around,”

he orders, and I slowly turn back to him. His blue eyes are piercing me to the core.

“I asked you a question.”

I take a second to think what he asked and then nod.

“Yes, I was inviting you to have dinner with me.”

“Was?”

“Am. I am inviting you. But–”

“Did I say I was busy?”

he asks, clearly annoyed.

“I want to have dinner with you.”

Taken aback, I smile nervously.

“Oh. Okay, then.”

“I should punish you for putting clothes on when you have”–he checks the clock–“a half hour left of your naked twenty-four hours, but I’m hungry, and what you’re wearing still lets me see your tits and ass. I can always have you suck me off for dessert.”

My pussy throbs at the casual way he says such dirty things, while my nipples pebble under his scrutiny.

“I was thinking ice cream for dessert, not…dick.”

“Both it is.”

He stands and walks over to me, motioning for me to lead the way, but when I start to turn, he grabs my arm and turns me back. He pushes my braids over my shoulders and grabs my chin to turn my head from side to side, his eyes becoming angry as he studies my neck.

“I left marks on you.”

“You did? I didn’t notice.”

His jaw muscles flex under the pressure of his tightly clenched teeth.

“I didn’t mean to. I…”

he trails off, his voice filled with anger.

“I would never…I’ve never…”

He seems to be fighting with himself internally, unsure of how to voice what he’s feeling.

“It’s okay, Daniil,”

I tell him gently.

“It doesn’t hurt. I didn’t notice anything after my shower earlier.”

“I shouldn’t have left marks on you like this,”

he growls angrily. I stay calm, knowing his anger is at himself and not me, and then I think about his scars.

“You didn’t mean to.”

“That’s no excuse.”

I place my hand on his chest.

“I liked what you did. You know that, right? You weren’t hurting me.”

He swallows hard, a lost look in his eyes as they remain focused on my neck.

“Won’t be happening again,”

he mutters.

“And I’ll fix it.”

I don’t even bother asking him what he means by that, because I know whatever he does, it will be to ease the guilt he’s feeling.

“Okay,”

I whisper, he takes a step away from me.

“I, um, I also need to call Gia.”

“Right,”

he says sharply, covering his emotions again. He pulls a set of keys from his pocket and unlocks one of the drawers in the desk and pulls a phone out. “Here.”

He hands it to me.

“It’s a burner. I trust you know her number?”

“I do.”

“Make your call in here.”

I already knew I would be. I sit in one of the large leather club chairs near the windows and dial her number, not putting it on speaker phone, though.

“Hello?”

Gia answers wearily.

“Hi, G.”

“Aria!”

she exclaims, with a relieved sigh afterward.

“You’re alive!”

I roll my eyes and laugh.

“Of course I’m alive. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not being ridiculous. I’ve been waiting for you to call all day and was getting worried.”

“I spent the day by the pool and then made dinner. Nothing to worry about.”

I’m obviously going to leave out the mind-blowing sex for now while he’s in the room, but Gia doesn’t say anything.

“Are you still there?”

“I am. I’m just… You spent the day lounging around and then made dinner? What the fuck is going on?”

“I just told you.”

“Are you being brainwashed or beaten into submission or something?”

she asks in a whisper, with my hand automatically going to my neck. If Daniil left bruises and Gia, or anyone else, saw them, then they might think he really is abusing me. But good Lord, I loved every second of having his hand around my neck today.

“No,”

I tell her, unable to keep the bite out of my tone.

“Okay, but did you…”

she trails off, and I know what she wants to know.

My eyes dart to Daniil who’s sitting behind his desk with his cool eyes trained on me, and I drop my hand from my neck.

“Yes.”

“What? That’s it? I need more than that, Aria. Did you see I packed your little vibrating friend so you could take care of yourself if you wanted to hold out?”

“No, I didn’t see it yet, but that’s the only answer I can give right now.”

“Is he there with you now?”

“Mmhmm,”

I hum, and she sighs.

“Jesus, he won’t leave you alone? Can you get alone at all? Tell me where you are so I can send people to get you.”

I turn away from Daniil and lower my voice.

“Yes, I’m left alone, and no, I can’t tell you because I don’t know where we are.”

“Figure it out and tell me tomorrow.”

“No.”

“No? What the hell, Aria?”

“Look, this is my daily call to you to say I’m good, and I’ll call you again tomorrow, okay?.”

“Fine. But I already had to lie to mom and dad and the family. We had family dinner last night and they were all wondering where you were.”

“Shit.”

“You’re lucky I’m a good liar.”

“You’re not, though.”

“I was yesterday. No one batted an eye when I told them you had to go on a last-minute shoot in LA. Mom and dad were just put out that you didn’t call or text to say you wouldn’t be there.”

“Shit,”

I say again, rubbing my forehead.

“You’re good. Just…”

She pauses, and I hold my breath.

“Just be careful.”

“I will be. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Talk tomorrow.”

I end the call and cradle my head in my hands.

“What’s wrong?”

Daniil asks, taking the chair beside me.

“Nothing.”

I hand him back the phone and pull my legs up to wrap my arms around them.

“No lies, Aria.”

Right.

“We had family dinner last night that I forgot about, and Gia had to cover for me in front of the entire family. They believed her, but…”

“But what?”

I take a deep breath, not sure if I want to confess this to him.

“I don’t want to explain myself to Gia.”

“About what?”

“You. This.”

“Then don’t.”

“She’s my sister. We tell each other everything. She just doesn’t get why I would…”

I shake my head and place my chin on my knee, looking out the window.

“Look at me,”

he demands softly, and when I meet his eyes, they’re blazing with intensity.

“Why you would what?”

“Why I would want to stay here with you. Why I don’t want to figure out where we are so I can tell her tomorrow on our call and she can send people to come and get me.”

Daniil’s eyes change to something fierce. Possessive. Hungry.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone just because you’re used to doing so.”

“Okay,”

I whisper.

He places his finger under my chin.

“While you’re with me, you don’t need to worry about anything. Nothing. I’m going to give you everything you need. And if I don’t anticipate what that is already, then tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

“Okay,”

I manage to say through my tight throat, clogged with emotion.

I didn’t think a man like him existed.

If he wanted me to keep my heart and feelings out of the equation this week, then he shouldn’t say such romantic things to me.

I don’t even think he means to be. He’s just being honest, and that’s why it means more than if he was just saying shit to get me to like him.

He hasn’t cared from the start if I liked him or not. He wanted me and knew I wanted him, and it was that simple. Liking him was never a factor.

But now…

With every little thing he says and does, I can’t help but like him, and I know I’m not going to get out of this deal unscathed.

“Dinner?”

he asks, releasing my chin and standing.

“Yes,”

I say quickly. “Dinner.”

I lead the way back to the kitchen, and when we reach the top, the scent of dinner hits us and he groans – the sound knotting my lower stomach.

“Fuck, it smells good.”

He slaps my ass as he walks past me and goes right for one of the cabinets to grab two plates.

I dish out two portions for us and he carries our plates to the table. He goes back and grabs a bottle of wine from the wine fridge in the kitchen, and brings it, a glass, and an opener to the table.

He looks at me with his brows raised in question so I nod in encouragement and watch him as he opens the bottle and pours me a glass. He didn’t bring a glass for himself, though. Instead, he goes over to the bar cart and pours himself a lowball glass of straight vodka.

“You don’t drink wine?”

I ask him when he sits down.

“No.”

How Russian of him, I suppose, if I’m to believe the stereotype.

I take a sip of wine, hoping it’ll calm my sudden nerves. I want him to like my cooking.

Daniil picks up his fork when I do and we take our first bites together. He closes his eyes as he chews and I don’t bother hiding my satisfied grin.

“Good?”

I ask, and his eyes flash open.

“Yes. You’re a good cook. It's been a long time since I had a homecooked meal like this.”

“You don’t cook for yourself?”

“Not like this, and not in a long time.”

“It’s just pasta and chicken.”

He doesn’t say anything else on the matter, and it makes me wonder.

“When was the last time you had a homecooked meal?”

His body stiffens and I regret my question. I shouldn’t push him. We’re not dating or getting to know each other. We’re fucking for a week. I need to keep reminding myself of that or I’ll get some pretty stupid ideas in my head.

“You don’t have to answer that. I shouldn’t have asked.”

We eat in silence for a few minutes until Daniil clears his throat and knocks back the rest of his vodka.

“The last time someone cooked for me like this was my mother. Seventeen years ago. On my eighteenth birthday.”

He clears his throat again, pain radiating off him as he looks across the table at me.

“The night before she killed herself.”

Oh, my.

Tears fill my eyes, but I don’t look away from his. I want him to see me when I tell him.

“I can’t even imagine the pain you must’ve felt then, and still do.”

The tears fall from my eyes but I don’t wipe them away. I don’t want to break the moment, afraid I won’t get it back.

“I’m sorry isn’t sufficient enough of a response, but I am sorry, Daniil. No time with a parent you love is long enough, but you’re the oldest son, so you got the most time with her. There’s a solace in that, that your brothers don’t have.”

“You don’t know my family.”

“No, I don’t. And I don’t know what it feels like to lose someone in that way. Was…”

I start to ask, then pause, unsure if I should ask what I’m thinking. He narrows his, urging me to continue.

“Was your dad around after she passed? Or have you had to take care of your brothers since you were eighteen?”

Daniil’s face completely morphs as a dark glint enters his eyes and a sardonic smirk graces his lips.

“He wasn’t around for long after she killed herself. I made sure of it. He was the reason she killed herself.”

He’s speaking so coldly. So matter-of-fact.

He killed his dad.

The implication is as boldly obvious as if he had it written across his forehead. I can’t blame him, though. If my dad caused my mom to kill herself, then I know Saverio would kill him while I’d strongly consider it. No, scratch that, I would help him.

“Sounds like he deserved it,”

I state bluntly, and Daniil’s eyes flash with satisfaction.

“He did. He deserved everything he got.”

He studies my face.

“Do you still want my dick for dessert?”

“Wh-what?”

I stutter out on a humorless laugh.

“What do you mean?”

That’s an abrupt change of topic.

“Knowing I’m a killer. Knowing I killed my own father. Do you still want my dick for dessert?”

“I already knew you were a killer. I grew up knowing the men around me all killed someone at some point in their lives, and it didn’t change how I saw them. Maybe that makes me weird or a freak or insane, I don’t know.”

I lift one shoulder in a shrug.

“It’s normal for me, which is weird for 99% of the population to say. But not me. And not you.”

“No. Not me and not you.”

We keep our eyes locked for another solid minute before he breaks first and leaves the table to refill his drink. I take the opportunity to pour myself more wine and take a hefty gulp while his back is turned, and then fill the glass again.

This isn’t the conversation I expected to have over dinner, but I’m glad he’s trusting me enough to share some of his past with me.

When he takes his seat again, I can see he’s lost in his head, surrounded by memories I’m sure he prefers to keep buried in the recesses of his mind, and I don’t like it. I want to know about his past and him, but I know I won’t get any more out of him right now, so I do what I know will bring him back to the present. Back to me.

That makes me pause.

Well, damn it.

I care I about him.

I care about the man who threatened my sister. I let him take my virginity and now I foolishly care about him.

I push my plate away and down my glass of wine. I can feel the effects of it warming my blood and loosening my muscles, and I want to make Daniil feel the same way.

His eyes follow my every movement as I round the table and stand beside him.

“I’m ready for my dessert now,”

I declare, and he reaches out, placing his hand on my hip and rubbing his thumb back and forth over my ribcage. He slides his hand up under my barely-there shirt to cup my breast, his warm palm heating me up even more.

He must see what he needs in my eyes, because he stands and turns his chair to face me, but doesn’t sit down again until he goes to the couch and brings back one of the throw pillows. My knee. It doesn’t hurt that much, but I wasn’t going to complain about the hard floor so long as I brought him back from the memories I surfaced in him. I deserve a little pain, too.

I place it on the floor at his feet and sink to my knees while he pulls his pants down just far enough to let his already hard cock free before sitting back down and spreading his powerful thighs for me.

My mouth waters, eager to taste him again and bring him pleasure.

I easily fit between his legs as I lean forward to lick him from his base to tip as I would an ice cream cone if a river of melted ice cream was sliding down towards my hand.

I relish in the groan he gives me in response and swirl my tongue around the swollen head of his cock before sucking it into my mouth like a lollipop.

“Fuck,”

he grunts, and I suck harder, wanting to give him the best blowjob of his life. What I lack in experience, I can more than make up for with my need to please him.

His hand soon finds the back of my head, but he doesn’t guide me. He just keeps it there as I bob up and down his length.

He expands in my mouth, letting me know he’s almost there, and I suck a little harder, using my tongue to swirl around him and my hand to meet my mouth where I can’t reach. His grunts and groans fuel me to keep going, and when he holds my head down on him while his cum shoots down my throat, I moan around him, which has his hips flexing and pushing more of himself inside me with a deeper growl.

Looking up at him, I see the unfettered pleasure written all over his face, and when his icy blues open to look down at me, I know he’s back.