Ruthless Mafia King: A Dark Bratva Arranged Marriage Romance

Time passes differently in solitude. There’s no clock to help me keep track, so it can be any time, three in the morning, or the middle of the day. Everything’s the same, again and again.

Survive until tomorrow.

This should be my new mantra. I have to earn the privilege of freedom. If I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in this room, I’ll have to turn myself into Nikolai Volkov’s perfect mate.

“Screw that,” I mutter under my breath. I refuse to be a prisoner and his puppet. Even though he’s the one holding the key to my freedom, I won’t make things easy for him.

True to his word, Nikolai had fresh clothes and cosmetics delivered. He sent designer jeans, soft dresses, expensive lounge clothes, underwear, and comfortable flats, all in my size. He even sent workout gear: a yoga mat and blocks, exercise bands, and a Pilates ball.

After a long hot shower, I pick a black Ralph Lauren dress that falls just above my knees. I spend some time styling my hair and putting on makeup. It’s not for him as much as it is for me to feel like a human despite these circumstances.

I set out to explore my bedroom-prison. I discover that there are no clues to tell me whether I’m being watched or not. There’s no outlet where I can try to contact people outside my four walls.

Back on the bed, I pick up one of the books that were delivered. For some reason, they’re all dark romances with explicit sex scenes. It could be one of his tactics to get me sexually frustrated and desperate for my captor to give me release. Or, I just have a twisted man who thinks he can read my thoughts.

Before I’m ready to face the monster at the door, I’m already hungry. Dinner time must be approaching.

Though there’s an obvious lack of windows, I have gotten two deliveries since he left. One was clearly breakfast, and the other was lunch. Now all that’s left is dinner, which means it’s time to face Nikolai.

Furious anger burns in my veins, and I pace the room, a whirlwind of thoughts popping into my mind and distracting me. After all, he has turned my life into a total disaster.

My freedom is gone.

My life.

My hopes and dreams.

All gone.

To make things even worse, there’s that one gut-twisting thought I don’t dare look into too deeply.

Why does all this also excite me?

Surely, my thoughts are getting clouded by the effects of everything that’s happened, the lack of friends, and the dull isolation.

That must be the reason. Otherwise, something is wrong with me.

I’m a sworn feminist. I hate men who think they can control women. In a hypothetical situation, I would tear their heads off. But now that I’m living it, I can’t deny that under all my anger and frustration, there’s a hint of arousal. It’s subtle enough that I’m able to ignore it, and yet, it’s strong enough that I can identify it.

Why is my body choosing to rebel against me?

The familiar sound of the food trolley being wheeled toward the room gets my attention. This time, there are two sets of footsteps.

I stand as far from the door as the space allows me to. Though I thought I was ready, my stomach clenches in anticipation.

Olga’s crass features are familiar to me now. She’s the one who brought me previous meals, so I shouldn’t be surprised she’s here again. A shiver runs up my spine when she enters and pushes the trolley over to the place it belongs.

After her, Nikolai walks in, favoring his right leg. He carries a table in his arms, and only now do I see two chairs folded on the trolley’s bottom shelf.

The smell of the food—the soup, the potatoes, and the steak—makes my belly rumble. The juicy meal will surely be the highlight of my day.

Once the table and chairs are unfolded and perfectly positioned between the bed and the wall, Olga moves the trolley closer. Both plates are steaming, and as good as the smells are, I keep my gaze lowered. I won’t give Nikolai the satisfaction of seeing how much I want his gifts.

“Thank you, Olga,” he says to the older woman.

Once she closes the door behind her, Nikolai gestures to the chairs, inviting me to sit down. Without a word, I take a seat opposite him, eyeing the meat. It’s delicious and mouthwatering.

“How was your day, serdtse?”

My gaze snaps to his handsome face. I hate how attractive he is. Especially with the stubble and small scar on the side of his head near the eye. There’s nothing wrong with him apart from the coldness of his eyes.

He’s clearly the bad boy I love to hate.

“Boring,” I reply through gritted teeth.

“Did you start any of the books I sent you?” he asks with a chuckle.

“No,” I lie.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know if I can trust your literary choices.”

Nikolai laughs. He’s clearly amused, and I have no clue why. “I’ll make sure to switch the books, then. Do you prefer a reverse harem novel? Or are you a Dostoyevsky kind of girl?”

“I’m not reading your books,” I say, once again stubborn.

He raises his eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. It’s obvious he doesn’t believe me. “You just haven’t gotten bored enough yet.”

We dive into the meal, ignoring each other. I let myself breathe, and for a couple of minutes, I pretend that I’m free.

“Tell me about yourself,” he breaks the silence, clearly done with it.

His intense gray gaze is back on me, and the butterflies in my stomach threaten to eat me from the inside out. Why is my body reacting this way when I’m supposed to despise him? Why does he look this attractive, even though I’m furious with him?

There’s a beauty in the power he holds over me. His masculine charm, coupled with the size of his body, is in complete contrast to mine. Knowing how dominant he is in everything he does, I have no doubt that the moment we come together, Nikolai will claim not only my body, but also my soul. And there’s a morbid curiosity in wanting to find out how strong he really is.

No!

Feminism is a real thing; I chastise myself and chase away all those unwanted images of him towering over me.

Nikolai laughs. He likes what he’s seeing, me looking all flustered and helpless. I bet he gets a kick out of it.

I’m done. I’ll show him what kind of wife he’ll get.

Without a warning, I grab my plate and throw it at him. He seems to expect it and dodges it with ease, laughing. But I’m not done yet. I grab my fork and jump at him. To his credit, Nikolai manages to block my strike with his forearm.

“Katarina!” he warns. “If you hurt me, we’ll both suffer. When will you finally understand that?”

“I don’t give a fuck what happens to you,” I cry out. I jam my knee in his chest and hear him grunt in pain. It gives me enough time to stab him again in the arm with the fork. It goes in quite deep, but it doesn’t stop me. I pull it out and try to go for the same spot again and only now see the blood seeping out.

He hisses and takes me by surprise, pushing at me with his strength. My back meets the floor with a thud, the air escaping my lungs in a flash. He lands on top of me, putting pressure on my torso and making me squirm. When I try to scratch his face, he grabs both of my wrists and pins them over my head.

“Are you done fighting?” he grins, his amusement palpable.

“Fuck you,” I spit back in his face.

“Keep your teeth in your mouth,” he drawls. His grip tightens on my wrists, and I gasp. Pain comes as a surprise.

“Don’t you dare hurt me,” I growl at him. “You deserve everything I did.”

“I do?”

I move my head to snap my teeth but reconsider. In my gut, I know that I need to be careful. No matter how righteous my motives are.

“Just go ahead and do what you want to me,” I challenge him. “I’m done being scared of you. It won’t last anyway. Eventually, you’ll get bored of me and kill me. What’s the point of me staying alive a little longer if you’ll just make me miserable until I drop dead?”

Nikolai lets out a low chuckle, a sound unlike any I’ve heard before. There’s a hint of mockery. His gray eyes meet my green, a million unspoken words hanging in the air. Instead of answering verbally, he dips his head down, his eyes locked with mine. Before I have a chance to understand his intentions, he does the worst thing possible.

He kisses me.

And it’s like the first sip of water in a dry desert.

His lips gently brush mine, neither attacking nor demanding. With my heart hammering and my breath coming in short pants, I can’t help the wave of want that assails my system.

A bolt of pure ecstasy twists my belly with lust, pooling in my core. His fingers no longer make me flinch. There’s a steady, slow ooze of blood from his wound, but he doesn’t seem to be affected by it.

My vision begins to blur, but still, I keep my eyes open and watch the top of his head as he brushes my lips so much more gently than his nature suggests he’d be capable of.

Instead of using his dominance, Nikolai seems determined to show me something else.

It could be a trap, the thoughts murmur in my head.

Be careful, a second voice whispers.

His lips press into mine firmly, no longer hesitant. Yet his kiss doesn’t turn feverish.

My head clears, and I try to throw him off me. When he doesn’t move, I sink my teeth into his lip. To my dismay and utter frustration, he moans. He slides his tongue over his swollen lip, tasting his blood. The wild look in his stormy gray eyes takes the fight right out of me.

“I’ll do something much worse to you, serdtse,” Nikolai tells me in a low, thick voice.

“What’s that?” I scoff.

“I’ll make you fall in love with me.”

With this ominous declaration, he stands up and strides to the door. Before he leaves, he turns to me again.

“I won’t be back until you learn how to behave.”

And then he’s gone, leaving me with my dinner spread over the carpet, my own anger, and hot arousal.