Ruthless Mafia King: A Dark Bratva Arranged Marriage Romance

The view of the sunset through my office windows is a scene that I never tire of. But today, my mind is occupied with thoughts of meeting Katarina. Sokolov should bring her by any moment now. That is, if he managed to get her under control. Even I’ve heard of her fiery personality. But it’s just another thing about her that interests me.

Who doesn’t want to tame a dragoness?

Flicking the pen in my hand, I sigh in contentment, admiring the picturesque view from my skyscraper office. My eyes slowly trail across the gold-and-peach horizon of the late spring afternoon, casting a warm glow over downtown Manhattan. Below, the shimmering East River snakes its way toward Brooklyn. Skyscrapers stand like sentinels, their windows flickering with the last rays of daylight.

Suddenly the doors burst open and heavy footsteps stomp against the hardwood floor. My hand tightens around the pen, but I relax as soon as I turn and face the intruder.

It’s Igor.

Most of my employees left for the day. I don’t want them to witness me subduing Katarina in case she decides to put up a fight. I do, however, count on her father’s threats to keep her obedient while they’re here.

“You’re either very brave to waltz in here without an invitation or extremely stupid,” I snarl, flipping the pen in the air. It falls back into the crease of my fingers right-side up.

“I came to ask you not to punish my sister for my transgression. Kata did nothing wrong,” Igor starts, closing the door behind him.

Annoyed, I slam the pen on the desk and rise from my seat, approaching him threateningly. “Are you questioning my judgment?”

“Look, brother,” he mutters, a weary expression in his blue eyes. “We’ve been working together for a long time, have we not?”

“I’m well aware of that,” I seethe.

“Have I given you a reason to doubt my words in the past?” he asks.

His voice lowers as he slowly inches his way to the white leather couch, which dominates the space with its minimalistic elegance.

Shaking my head, I return to the floor-to-ceiling window that offers an unobstructed view of the cityscape. “That won’t change a thing, Igor.” I wave him away. “Your family and I do business. You represent the interests of the Bratva, and I make sure that my needs are met. Right now, I need to marry your sister.”

“I really didn’t come here to talk to you as my business associate,” Igor insists, not taking the hint.

Losing my patience, I growl, “Don’t be mistaken, you and I are not friends.”

I turn from him, but Igor grabs my shoulder, forcing me to face him.

“Leave my sister out of it,” he repeats, this time more forcefully.

I press my hand against his chest and give him a hard shove, making him hit the back of the couch. “You should’ve thought about this before you decided to fuck Gargarin’s daughter,” I bark.

Baring my teeth, I move into his personal space.

But Igor stands his ground.

Only then do the corners of my lips turn into an evil grin. I raise my fist and punch him in the face with enough force to send him flying backward. Blood splatters on the white of the couch. Grabbing Igor, I’m about to slam my fist against his ribs, but the door bursting open takes me by surprise.

“Enough,” a cold voice barks.

Slowly, I turn my face to the door.

Dimitri strides into my office with long, powerful steps.

The blonde woman behind him, on the other hand, is as stiff as a marble statue. Her heels barely touch the ground as she moves. Dimitri’s cold order was a warning both to me and his son, but it’s this girl who’s showing us how to act when around a pakhan. Still and unmoving, but on high alert.

She’s even more beautiful in person. Her cold and unwelcoming glance does nothing to dissuade me from my plan of marrying her. Her pale green gaze shifts to the mess on my couch. The horror in her eyes doesn’t leave an ounce of doubt as to how her father forced her to fall in line. I feel an acute pain in my chest, which I willingly squash before the warmth rising in my blood threatens to heat my cheeks. Still, this girl intrigues me enough to delay my revenge. The expression on her face is one of anger mingled with hatred. Her animosity is annoying, but I must focus on her fear now. What her anger does to me is a question I’d like to explore, yet now isn’t the moment. I’ll wait, like I’ve waited for two years—a mere blink of an eye.

They said it was a car accident, but I knew better than that. It’s not an accident if the other driver was drunk. The Sokolovs took what mattered to me most, and now I’m claiming their baby girl.

“Didn’t your father teach you to respect your friends, Nikolai?” Dimitri’s annoyed voice reaches me.

His hands separate us, pulling Igor’s body away from mine. The younger man smirks with victory on his swollen lips, but I don’t give a damn. In this moment, I only care about the woman in front of me.

Her hands rest against her flounced black dress, fingers tangled together. The plunging neckline shows a discreet trace of a fine scar on her skin just above the lace, which hides her breasts. Her long blonde locks dangle around her face, held up by a simple, black comb. Even though she tried hard to look as plain as possible, it only made her more alluring. My sources tell me that she’s a night owl, and she certainly knows how to look like one.

I have to keep my composure because this woman has managed to slip past all of my defenses in the fifteen seconds she’s been standing on my office threshold.

Her seafoam eyes latch onto mine, but Dimitri cuts off the view by positioning himself between us. His hand rests on my forearm.

“Nikolai, meet my daughter, Katarina,” Dimitri announces coldly as he moves aside. “Printsessa, meet your fiancé.”

I don’t even glance at him. No sound leaves her lips, which creates an uncomfortable sensation deep inside me, no different from the sinking feeling one has when they’ve eaten something spoiled. Katarina’s eyes are brimming with dislike, and the sight only stirs the burning embers inside me. Dimitri slams his hands on her shoulders, and her body visibly jolts. With wide eyes, she stares at him.

“Igor and I will leave you and Nikolai alone for a few minutes,” Dimitri tells her. “Use the opportunity to get to know him.”

He forces a plastic smile onto his lips before he lets her go. Then he wraps an arm around his son and guides the bloody bastard out of the room, slamming the door behind them and leaving us alone.

Suddenly, I need a drink to calm my nerves. Walking behind the cabinet of my mahogany desk, I grab the bottle of Beluga and pour two shots. I return to Katarina, placing the ryumka into her cold, unresponsive hand.

For long moments, we stay silent, observing each other. Her gaze is sharp and guarded, slicing through the space between us. Normally, I would relish this moment of quiet intensity, but the tension makes me grip my glass tighter, compelling me to take a large swig. Although I desperately want to smash the icy silence, I let her lead. When she finally speaks, her tone is so piercing it could shatter glass, making me nearly drop my drink. However, I quickly steady my grip, masking any reaction to the sharpness of her words.

“You’ll come to regret the day you tried to take my freedom away from me,” Katarina threatens in a low, melodic voice, devoid of all emotion. Fearless, she shoots me a dirty look. “Mark my words.”

Instead of the hate that I thought would be swimming in those pale eyes, I see pure betrayal. She won’t hesitate to fight me tooth and nail. Her eyes hide even more.

“We’ll see who bows first, serdtse,” I say, suppressing a smile when she flinches at my use of the Russian word for heart. But Katarina holds herself under control.

I admire that.

Her eyes dance across my face, searching for . . . something. Licking her lips, she flashes me a wry smile as she slowly loosens her grip on the glass. As soon as she does, it falls to the ground, breaking on the hardwood floor.

Katarina might prove more difficult to deal with than I initially anticipated.

“Next time you do anything like this, I’ll make you get on your knees to clean up the mess with your tongue,” I threaten her, smirking. “While I fuck you from behind.”

Her eyes widen with surprise as she stares at me. Katarina may be far from naïve, but she doesn’t seem to know a single thing about powerful men and the thoughts we harbor.

Something akin to amusement laces her voice.

“You think highly of yourself, don’t you?” she asks casually, tilting her head to the right, and I can barely restrain myself from reaching out and caressing her neck. She grins with satisfaction as if knowing the effect she has on me. “That’s not how love works.” She chuckles.

The mention of love always puts me in a foul mood. Someone loved me once, and that love was taken away by force. Her comment deepens the hole in my chest.

My mouth curls up as an acid baritone slips past my tongue, “That’s definitely how our love is going to work.”

My words wipe the smile from her face. I watch her bite her lower lip nervously.

The small movement of her lips draws my attention, and I feel heat skittering over my skin. A single thought burns through my brain like fire, consuming everything in its path.

I will have her.

All of her.

And no one can change my mind.

“Don’t bite that lip so hard, serdtse,” I warn, my voice growing hoarser. “I’m the only one who can mark you. I hope you like it rough. Otherwise, I’m afraid you won’t enjoy our time together.”

The tension in the air is thick. It hangs around us like heavy fog, slowly starting to choke us. My pulse quickens along with my breathing, and I glance back down. Katarina stands still, staring at the broken pieces of the glass.

“How dare you!” she seethes with fire, bringing her face a mere inch away from mine. She raises her palm to slap me across the face.

Catching her by her slender wrist, I violently pull her closer, holding her stiff body to my chest. There’s not an inch of space between us. She jolts, hissing in pain, but my vice-like grip tightens even more as my fingers dig into her flesh.

“You will learn to behave and show me respect,” I growl, my face lowering close to hers. “And fast.”

With no further words, I release her, giving her a gentle shove. She stumbles but catches herself by moving away from me.

“Get out!” I order. “Unless you want me to show you exactly what I mean.”

My threat works. She lets out a small huff and quickly storms out of my office, slamming the door behind her.

This betrothal I made may turn out to be far more thrilling than I first thought it would.

“That went well,” I murmur to myself and chuckle.

Katarina will definitely keep me entertained. With her by my side, my life will be far from boring.