Ruthless Mafia King: A Dark Bratva Arranged Marriage Romance

Katarina seems so small on the massive bed, folded into herself and withdrawing from me as much as humanly possible.

“Let me go,” she starts pleading. Her bottom lip trembles, and a blonde strand of hair falls down the side of her face. It’s hard to spot the fire in her green eyes.

“No.” I make my answer definitive, leaving no room for a different scenario. “I won’t. We had a deal. Your father had no right to back out, not when I delivered on my part. You’re mine.”

“No, I’m not,” she spits back, folding her arms over her chest.

I step closer. Even in the dim light, her wet lashes look thick and full. At this moment, their beauty stands out starkly against her almost porcelain skin. “The engagement isn’t going to go away. Stop fighting it.”

“I don’t accept it. This is bullshit.”

As I stand in the middle of the room, breathing the same air as Katarina, and feeling that familiar anger coming off her, I can’t stop myself.

I round the bed and sit down on the mattress next to her. There are several inches between us, and yet, I can already feel her heat.

“Would you have preferred I left you to Yakov?” I challenge. “He had a clear idea of how he wanted to spend his time with you. I don’t imagine he would have been gentle.”

She straightens and glances at me from the corner of her eyes. She considers my words, a hint of fear rising to her face.

“Or you could behave, and we could celebrate our engagement right now,” I suggest in a soft voice.

I shouldn’t sound this gentle. It’s deceptive. For a man to rise to the position I hold now, I had to embrace evil. If the situation demands me to be a rough and uncultured animal, that’s who I’ll be.

“Go to hell!” she spits out.

“Who are you angry at?” I ask. When she doesn’t answer right away, I reach out and cup her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze.

“You,” she confesses, a bit more subdued. Fury fizzles beneath her beautiful surface.

I shake my head. “I’m not the one who drugged you. You should be thanking me for saving you. My guess is that Gargarin would’ve kept you as a sex slave for a couple of weeks and then sold you to the Mexicans. “

“My hero,” she says mockingly.

“I can always send you to him if you prefer that,” I suggest. “Or I can have one of my men act out Yakov’s plans.”

There’s a hint of vulnerability in her gaze, though she’s trying to hide it. Something hot twitches in my belly. At this moment, I want her more than ever.

Not to love.

I don’t do love anymore.

I want to make her mine. I want to dominate every part of her, claim her body, and tame the wild beast inside her.

“What do you plan on doing to me, Nikolai?” she asks with a slight tremor in her voice.

“I will fuck you,” I answer honestly. My simple answer causes another tremble in her body. “Fuck you senseless, Katarina. Until the only thing that’s going to matter to you is my face, my name, and my cock buried inside you.”

A look of terror and aversion mixes with what I swear is just a fraction of arousal. I allow my hand to drop from her face to her chest. My eyes narrow as I feel her quiver.

“But don’t worry, serdtse,” I add gently. “First, I’ll marry you. The rest comes later.”

Her gaze flashes in alarm. In such a state, she makes an adorable creature.

As I wait for her response, I allow my eyes to drift lower. She wears the same clothes from the night I took her from Solanum. Her face is messy, and her hair tousled. No matter how unsightly she appears, I still find her irresistible.

“I’ll bring you clothes and cosmetics,” I tell her. “I won’t have my wife looking like a mess.”

She sucks in a breath. Tears pool in her eyes, and her upper lip lifts slightly in a silent snarl.

“I’ll be back every day to have dinner together,” I inform her. “If you want to get out of here, you’ll have to work on gaining my trust. And I do mean work, Katarina.”

“Are you just going to keep me here then?”

“At least until you manage to treat me like a loving wife would.”

“That will never happen,” she promises, and her expression turns into a venomous mask.

“We’ll see,” I retort. I ease off the bed and dust invisible lint off my suit.

Katarina climbs across the king-size bed, scrambling away from me and putting distance between us.

“Is there anything else you want?” I ask, glancing around the empty room. “Some books you’d like to read? A table maybe? Some workout equipment?”

“I have everything I need,” she answers, gesturing around her. “Except freedom, of course. That’s the most important thing.”

“Earn it,” I simply repeat, and turn toward the door.

I make my way back into the foyer and hurry to Ivan. The men have already been briefed on Katarina’s presence. On my orders, they won’t enter the tunnels without my permission. Except for Olga bringing her food, no one is allowed to have contact with Katarina.

She’s my little secret.

“What’s new with Yakov?” I ask Ivan as he falls in step beside me.

“He doesn’t seem to have any lasting injuries.”

“Should we expect trouble?” I inquire with a frown.

“I would keep an eye on the Gargarins for the time being,” Ivan replies, his deep voice quiet. “We don’t want to be caught off guard in case they decide to come after us.”

“Agreed,” I say with a nod. “Did the word spread about Katarina’s disappearance yet?”

“No, boss.”

“That’s good,” I say, my mind running through possible scenarios of what the next few weeks could bring. “Dimitri is too careful to be followed, so make sure that your man continues tailing Igor.”

“Roger that.”

I retreat to my home office to call Roman. As expected, he answers on the first ring.

“Do we know who’s responsible for our Serbian disaster?” I ask him in lieu of a greeting.

Roman lets out a long sigh. “I’m close to having an answer, but I need more time.”

“Find the culprit and call me.”

I need an answer to the constant headache that refuses to stop. Having a pissed-off Yakov out there isn’t something I’ll enjoy. He’s famous for his temper and vengefulness. With his sister disgraced, he’s eager to take his anger out on Katarina. I wouldn’t want even my worst enemy to land in his cruel hands.

It’s only a matter of time before Dimitri finds out Katarina is missing and turns his attention to me. I’ll have to make it clear to him that her life depends on me staying alive and unhurt.

“I will,” Roman replies. “Is it true that Katarina is your captive now?”

“She’s exactly where she’s supposed to be,” I tell him.

“It’s risky.”

“No one will interfere, not until I want them to,” I tell him, making sure to sound convincing. “Besides, a life without risks is not worth living.”

“Easy for you to say.” He sighs. “You’re Nikolai Volkov. You’re the most resilient man I’ve ever met. It’s the people you surround yourself with that might get caught in the crossfire. Myself included.”

I let the comment go. There’s no use in arguing, and considering Ivan and Roman are my oldest friends, I’m glad they know how to speak their minds.

“I got to go,” Roman says quickly.

“Yes,” I say. “Call me when you have something to report.”

I’m also eager to get some sleep. While my wounds are healing well, the process is painful. It’s hard not to pop painkillers constantly, but addiction is the last thing I need right now.

The moment I get in bed, a familiar face appears. Katarina Sokolov haunts both my dreams and nightmares. In some, she’s lying beside me, her hands tracing the planes of my body, coaxing groans from my throat. In others, she’s my undoing, the one who pulls the trigger.

I’m used to nightmares. They’re my constant companions in life.

When dark shadows dance on the walls of my room and the demons begin to scream their insults at me, I have to decide. To fight or to embrace the pain.

The privacy of my bedroom is the only time I let my defenses down. My mask falls, and for the few brief hours I’m alone with myself, I’m allowed to be weak. But not for long. I don’t let myself dwell on the losses and defeats or the fact that I nearly died.

By the time morning comes, I’ve worked through all the scary possibilities of what could happen. And when I get out of bed and take a shower to wash my humanity down the drain, I’m back to being Nikolai Volkov.