Ruthless Mafia King: A Dark Bratva Arranged Marriage Romance

I hand the fob to my car to Solanum’s valet. Tonight’s a girls’ night. We aren’t leaving until sunrise. I’ll have one of my father’s men drive us home and pick up the car in the morning.

Mila takes my hand, and we hurry past the growing line on the sidewalk. There are countless people waiting with an excited buzz and an air of impatience.

“Welcome back, Katarina,” the bouncer greets me in his deep voice.

I flash him a toothy smile. He steps to the side, holding the red velvet rope up to allow us passage into the hottest club in the city. The crowd waiting to enter makes sounds of complaint, but Mila and I don’t care. It’s not the first time we’ve cut the line. We are young, beautiful, and well-connected, and we use it to our advantage.

We walk past the entrance and down the stairs. A second bouncer greets us and opens another heavy metal door that separates customers and criminals alike from the outside world.

Mila’s eyes are immediately drawn to the DJ. He stands with a microphone in his hand and beats out a tune on the turntables. I link my arm with hers and yank her close. “Eyes on me, girl.”

She releases a husky giggle that’s drowned out by the music.

“Relax, Your Royal Highness,” she tells me with a sarcastic smile. “We’re just getting started.”

“We sure are!” I shout in her ear. “Now let’s get something to drink!”

“Drinks before dancing?” she asks with a hand resting over her chest in mock horror. “Who are you, and what have you done with my bestie?”

“Blame it on the long week,” I shout and throw my head back.

“Let’s get you tonight’s special cocktail,” Mila says, and pulls me behind her.

The two of us squeeze through the tightly packed dance floor, snaking and weaving between groups. Soon, we come to the bar. The counter gleams with wet, fresh alcohol. One of the bartenders spots me and comes my way.

“Katarina!” he exclaims in greeting, gesturing at my legs and the silver dress that leaves very little to the imagination. “Damn, girl. You’re wearing a fuck-me dress if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Then I guess I should just jump over the counter and do you,” I joke, feeling completely at ease with him ever since I found out he’s gay. He grins. “I’ve had a rough few days.”

“It’s no wonder you need to chill.”

I laugh, flashing my pearly whites. “No arguing here.”

“What are you guys having?” he asks, gesturing to Mila.

“There’s a new cocktail on the menu,” she declares in a sultry voice. “I want to give it a try.”

“I got you,” he says and winks at us before turning toward the hundreds of bottles lined up on the wall behind him.

I watch his blond head bob up and down as he works his magic. After a few minutes, he turns to us again. Mila’s black eyes are shining with excitement as she watches him pour our drinks.

His biceps are bigger than my head. Tattoos decorate most of his skin, leaving almost no room for his natural complexion. If he weren’t gay, I would’ve already asked him out on a date. Well, not on a date exactly, but the good part that usually follows a successful date.

Without saying a word, he slides our drinks over the counter. Mila and I reach for our identical glasses and lift them high.

“To freedom,” I say, meeting her excited gaze.

“To my DJ!” she cheers.

“May we never forget who the fuck we are.”

“And may we live by our own principles and without fear!” she adds.

“Cheers!”

We sip on our glasses. The sweet taste gives me a sense of delicious peacefulness.

The bartender meets my eye and grins. “Do you like it?”

“I’ll be coming back for more!” I say, placing the glass down.

“Me too,” Mila echoes, and does the same.

We lock gazes and laugh. It’s going to be a fun night.

A little over an hour later, my mind is starting to float pleasantly. I’m still smiling as I return from a trip to the bathroom. I spot an empty sofa in the club’s VIP area and hurry toward the comfort, eager to rest my legs. I lean back against the cushions, watching the other people in the nightclub enjoy their night.

Mila’s taking her time to show off her moves to her prey. When I glance at the DJ, I can see that the man has his eyes on her and her only. Mila’s little wink is not unappreciated, it appears. He must be sensing the heat coming from my curvy friend.

More men approach me, eyeing me from head to toe as they try to get my attention. I turn them down. Not even one of them piques my interest. For some reason, I keep comparing them to Nikolai fucking Volkov.

But even Nikolai’s memory isn’t enough to get me hot.

Probably because I’m not yet tipsy enough.

I’m done with the second specialty cocktail when I sense someone approaching me from behind. I sigh in frustration and shift on the sofa. Ready to turn down another mediocre guy, I’m about to open my mouth when I get a glimpse of the blond Apollo.

“Hi.” His face pulls into a boyish smile.

“Hi,” I breathe. For some reason, my heart skips a beat.

I instantly notice some things about the young man standing before me. He wears an expensive, delicious cologne. His body is big and chiseled, but not in an exaggerated way.

This is a guy that could get Nikolai and his dirty words out of my head.

He leans closer, his voice coming out low and sexy.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” he says. “Do you mind if I sit next to you?”

“Nope.” I shake my head, taking in his deep blue eyes.

“I’m Yakov,” he introduces himself.

“Katarina,” I tell him. The slight warmth I’ve been feeling in my stomach turns into a flare of sexual awareness as my imagination runs wild. The drink must be working its magic on me. “Are you new around here? I haven’t seen you before.”

“Tonight’s my first time in the club,” he admits, grinning.

I gesture toward the empty seat to my right. “Make yourself comfortable.”

His chest brushes against my forearm as he sits next to me. I get another whiff of his scent, even stronger than it was when he was standing up.

“I saw you here all by yourself,” he continues. “I’m a lucky man that you agreed to let me join you.”

“It’s the first time I saw anyone come up to me so confidently.”

Yakov’s mouth twitches as he fights a smile. “It must be the dress.”

“Nice save,” I say playfully, arching an eyebrow. “I should warn you though, I’m not easily impressed.”

“Then we have a problem,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ve already called dibs on it. I’m an expert with girls like you.”

“Oh, are you now?” I ask with a laugh. “Girls like me, you say? And who are we?”

“Tough, confident, smart,” he lists off, eyeing me like he’s a lion looking at his prey. “Dangerous.”

He seems to do a once-over, taking in every part of my body. I don’t stop him, relishing the fire in his gaze.

“Where’s your drink, anyway?” he asks, as if there isn’t any heat spilling over between us. “I’ll go grab us one.”

“Yeah, just hold on a second,” I say and get up. “I’ll go with you.”

“Are you sure? You seem quite comfortable where you’re at.”

I shake my head. “I’m getting bored of sitting here. I’d rather enjoy the dance floor.”

“Now that sounds better. Let’s go then.”

I follow him to the bar and stand close to his side, feeling the heat coming off him like a bonfire in a snowstorm.

It’s not a calculated move, but when Yakov sits down to chat with the bartender, I lean closer to him and wrap an arm around his. Damn, it’s a hard and firm bicep, delicious muscles hardening at my touch. I make a little purring sound, and he laughs, ordering two more drinks for us.

“You look like you’re enjoying the evening,” he says once we get our drinks. “How long have you been clubbing around here?”

“A while,” I confess. “This is sort of my place of work.”

“Work?” he asks me, looking surprised. “So, you a dancer or something?”

“I’m a talent scout,” I tell him. “I’m always on the lookout for new artists to sign to the label I work for.”

“Wow, that’s cool.” He casually gestures toward the exit. “Do you want to get some air?”

“I’d like that.”

The alcohol in my system is making me extra pliable. Yakov grins in a hungry manner and doesn’t hesitate to offer his arm for me to take. Instead of wrapping my hand around it, I slide my hand in his.

“I like this,” he growls, his breath tickling the top of my ear.

I smile at him seductively and let him lead us out through the back exit, his heat seeping into my skin.

When we finally come out to the alleyway behind the club, I turn to him and take in a deep breath. The freedom feels amazing.

“Feels good to get some fresh air,” I say, releasing another breath.

Yakov leans back against the wall and starts sliding his dark blue eyes from the top of my head all the way down my legs.

“That it does,” he mutters. “I’ve never tasted air this sweet.”

With a cocky smirk curling up his sensual mouth, Yakov watches me with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“You should start to feel it any moment now,” he drawls with a wicked smile.

“Feel what?”

“The drug that I put in your drink, of course.”

Just as he finishes his confession, my legs buckle, and I fall to the ground. I try to curl into a ball, protecting my belly and my head.

“Shh,” he murmurs next to me, stroking my hair as if he were petting a dog. “No need to worry. Just relax. I promise to show you a much better time than your brother did my sister.”

Of course. Now I recognize him.

Yakov Gargarin.

Anastasiya’s older brother.

Suddenly, I lose control over my body, and I pass out.

Or at least that’s the only explanation I have for being abruptly surrounded by darkness.