Page 36 of The Bratva Bosses' Surrogate

“Back to the island,” Ivan says, “since it’s now safe.”

As the jet takes off, I watch Sofia, her mind clearly racing with thoughts and questions. We’re returning to where it all started, back to the island. It’s a return to safety, but also a return to the uncertainties of our situation.

The flight is smooth, faster than I expected. As we land, I notice we’re all more attentive to Sofia, each of us eager to help her off the plane. The mansion looks untouched, windows fixed, everything back to how it was – as if nothing ever happened.

Suddenly, Sofia throws up. It’s abrupt, and we all rush to support her.

It strikes me as odd – the three of us, Ivan, Viktor, and I, we’ve always kept our circle tight. No outsiders. And now, here’s Sofia, seamlessly becoming a part of this impenetrable world of ours. It’s strange how quickly she’s found her place among us.

“You alright?” I ask.

“Yeah, it’s just the jet. Made me nauseous,” she manages to say between breaths.

We chuckle a bit, trying to lighten the mood as we escort her towards the mansion. But as we walk, I can’t help but notice Sofia’s nervous glances around. Something’s off. She’s uneasy, her eyes darting to corners and shadows.

What’s going on in her mind? Is it just the aftermath of the flight, or is there something more she’s not telling us?

Sofia’s still trembling, her legs barely holding her up. Viktor doesn’t hesitate; he scoops her up in his arms, carrying her bridal style towards the mansion.

“Hey, put me down!” Sofia’s voice rings with a blend of mock outrage and real frustration. Viktor looks down at her, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “Not a chance,” he replies, the tease in his voice clear but gentle. Sofia struggles lightly in his grasp, her tone playful yet tinged with a hint of sincerity. “I’m not some damsel in distress, Viktor. I’ve got my own feet.”

Viktor’s chuckle is low and warm. “But then I’d miss my chance to be the dashing hero, wouldn’t I?” His words are light, but there’s a softness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. We enter the mansion and move to her rooms.

Sofia rolls her eyes, her earlier resistance fading into a reluctant acceptance. She lets out a huff, half-serious, half-amused. “Just so you know, this isn’t over. I’ll find a way to even the score.”

Viktor’s response is a playful grin. “I’ll be waiting with bated breath,” he says, the humor in his tone belying the genuine affection in his gaze.

As they enter the room, Viktor sets Sofia down gently onto a plush sofa, his movements careful, protective. The room, warm and inviting, seems to embrace them, a stark contrast to the tension of their outside world.

The table is already set, food laid out, everything from steaming dishes to an assortment of fruits. It’s like we never left, the mansion ready to welcome us back.

Sofia, now steadier, looks around with a raised eyebrow. “How did you guys manage to get everything done so quickly? It’s like you snap your fingers and boom, everything’s in place.”

I shrug, a smirk playing on my lips. “Perks of being ridiculously wealthy and having well-trained staff.”

Sofia playfully rolls her eyes.

“Ah, so it’s all about throwing money at the problem until it goes away?”

Ivan joins in, his tone light, “More or less. It solves most things, except when it doesn’t.”

“Like with Kayla?” Sofia teases.

Viktor chuckles, “Well, you can’t buy loyalty, apparently. But you can definitely buy a speedy cleanup crew and a well-stocked kitchen.”

Sofia laughs, the sound brightening the room. “I guess every cloud has its silver lining, huh? Even in the world of billionaire Bratva bosses.”

“Absolutely,” I say, raising an eyebrow. “And speaking of silver linings, how about we focus on the silverware and dig in? This food isn’t going to eat itself.”

Sofia nods, a smile still playing on her lips as she moves towards the table. “I won’t argue with that. Especially when there’s food involved.”

As we start eating, the atmosphere around the table is relaxed, the conversation flowing easily.

Sofia teases Viktor, “So, this is the infamous Bratva diet? I was expecting something more intimidating.”

Viktor winks at her. “What, like bear meat and vodka? We save that for special occasions.”

I jump in, “Yeah, like Tuesdays.”

---