Page 4 of The Bratva’s Innocent Sold Bride (Fokin Bratva #9)

There were a few pictures of Celine Jane Taurus on the internet, but not as many as some young women of her wealth.

She didn’t plaster herself all over social media and had no accounts of her own that I could find.

She was only snapped at a couple of charity galas, looking like she didn’t want to be there or have her picture taken.

None of the photos could have ever captured her beauty, which was why I mistook her when she first opened the door. The woman before me was perfect, ethereal. Anyone who heard my thoughts would have laughed, but she was like a goddess.

Her chestnut brown hair was in a smooth, low ponytail I already longed to wrap it around my fist. The top of her head came to my chin as I stepped into the house, a surprisingly modest abode for someone as rich as Gordon.

It probably only had nine bedrooms. She wore a simple green suit that accentuated every perfect curve.

My hands curled, wanting to smooth them down her sides, grip her lush hips, drag her to me to kiss that sweet, open mouth. As gorgeous as she was, I didn’t have time for a dalliance with one of Gordon’s employees. She clamped it shut as soon as I mistook her for the maid.

When I realized she was Gordon’s daughter, everything changed.

Of course, Gordon didn’t have to know that, and I’d toy with him a little before I gave my decree. I didn’t give away my hand, but it was difficult not to watch CJ saunter off toward her room at the crisp order of her father.

So, she was sweet on top of being the hottest thing on the face of the planet. I was so enamored, so obsessed, that I almost wanted to cut to the chase. But then, once we were closed in Gordon’s office, a ridiculous mishmash of a room, he decided to act like he was in charge.

“These things happen,” he said. “I took a loss, too.”

So, he really expected me to believe his scheme wasn’t a setup. Apparently, the other two investors accepted it, but they weren’t me.

“Wrong,” I said. “There was never a new company, there was never a new product. You made a nice little cash grab for yourself, and I don’t actually care about the others, but you’re going to give me back what’s mine.”

At the slightest shake of his head, I was on him, slamming him onto one of his leather couches. Leaning over him, I gripped his throat. “There’s only one right answer here,” I told him.

His eyes bulged as I squeezed. The man was shaking like a brittle autumn leaf, but still tried to look like he wasn’t. When I let him go to speak, he coughed, staring at me defiantly.

“It was all in black and white; there was always a chance of losses,” he said. “You have no legal recourse here.”

My laughter made his mottled face go as white as his hair. “Do you think I care about the law? I am the law in my world. You stepped into it, Gordon. You can’t hide your crimes from someone like me, someone who’s much, much better at it.”

He blinked, muttering, “Fokin, Fokin. No, it can’t be.”

“It is,” I said, shocking him with a hard slap. Men hate to be slapped. The humiliation is far worse than the pain, but it certainly hurt him, too. “I’m one of those Fokins.”

I went on to tell him how disappointingly stupid he was.

I was new in the country and kept a low profile, but it wouldn’t have taken much digging if he knew the right people, and he apparently liked to think he did.

He’d been doing these sorts of scams since he started.

Half the funding for his breakout company was dirty money.

“Now, once again. Pay me back or die.”

He actually started blubbering at that point. Like any successful man, he was terrified of death. Terrified of losing everything, along with the chance to accumulate more. It was never enough for men like Gordon. How he had such a sweet, beautiful daughter was beyond me.

He begged for his life, like they all did, but it finally came down to the truth.

“It’s gone,” he said.

I flung him across the room like a rag doll. He hit one of his tables, sending a huge monitor and a pile of tools crashing to the parquet floor. “What?”

“It’s gone. The money is gone. I had some problems—a debt. It had to be paid, or I was going to lose everything. It’s not my fault the investment didn’t—”

“Shut up,” I said, looming over him. We had already gone over the fact that I knew it was all a scam, but he was beginning to be hysterical. “You’re still in debt. To me. And that’s not a good place to be. I will be repaid, or you die. Here, now, and very painfully.”

Crawling across the floor, he tried to reach for a metal box under the table. I kicked it out of his reach and picked it up. Inside was a gun, and I waved it at him. He covered his head with his hands.

“I’m not going to kill you with your own gun, Gordon,” I said scornfully. “That would be too easy. And boring. You know that a person’s hand can be removed while they’re fully conscious? It’s not easy, but I enjoy a challenge.”

“Please,” he sobbed, lying flat on the floor and reaching for my shoes. Pathetic. I stepped away. “Please don’t kill me. I’ll—I’ll find a way.”

“There already is a way.”

“What? Tell me. Just don’t hurt me. Let me live.”

“Your daughter.”

The sniveling stopped. He sat up, stunned, starting to look angry instead of fearful. “You’ve got to be joking.”

My foot lashed out, clipping him in the chin and sending him sprawling again, this time on his back.

“I think you can see I’m not in a joking mood.

Your daughter will come with me. Whether I choose to torture her, sell her, or ship her off to Russia to work in one of my factories, it will be entirely at my discretion. Because she will be mine.”

She already was mine, from the moment her green eyes flashed with curiosity when she opened the door. It had to be this way, but I had no intention of doing any of those things to my girl.

Gordon’s sobs started again, harder than before.

I spotted a graduation picture of CJ among all the items on the work side of his odd office.

Her smile was like sunshine after a long Moscow winter.

If the pitiful man before me had a soul at all, it was only because of CJ.

And she was his last chance to survive his worst mistake.

“Don’t hurt my daughter,” he pleaded. “She’s all I have. The company’s hanging on by a thread, or I’d offer you my controlling shares. I’m already ruined, but I’d die without her.”

“You’re going to die anyway. And you’re lying. Taurus Ingenuity is up.”

He shook his head, wiping snot with the back of his hand. “I’ve been manipulating the market, but it’ll all come out soon enough. I was desperate, don’t you see?”

I kicked him again. “I don’t care what your reasons were.” I decided he had suffered enough for now and brought down the hammer. “I’m taking CJ with me tonight.”

The blow had him go utterly still, cradled in the fetal position, barely breathing. And it wasn’t even the killing strike, not yet. He’d have to live with the knowledge that I’d have complete control over his daughter, just so he could continue to live.

“And I want those shares in the company, too,” I said, just to be petty.

He somehow gathered the strength to rise and tried to attack me, but it was a feeble attempt; he was utterly broken. He knew the only way he could live was to sell his daughter to pay the debt, and he was too much of a coward to give up his own life.

“Bring her to me at once,” I said. “She’s mine now, after all.”