Page 40 of The Bratva Bosses' Surrogate

And now, she wants to go on a fucking date. A date – the word feels foreign, almost laughable in my world. I don’t do dates. My life has been about transactions, deals, and power plays, not romantic dinners and moonlit walks.

The idea of taking Sofia out, trying to play the part of a regular guy on a date, it’s absurd. What would that even look like? A dinner in some high-end restaurant where every second person is probably someone I’ve crossed paths with in less savory circumstances? A walk through the city where every corner holds a memory of violence or betrayal?

In the ruthless world of my profession, romance is a dangerous game, a chink in the armor. Emotions can turn lethal, and attachments are weapons in enemies’ hands. Yet, here I am, contemplating a date, driven not by desire but by her restlessness, her need for something normal.

For the mother of our child, I tell myself. That’s why I’m doing this. If a date is what she yearns for, then so be it. It won’t just be with me, though. Ivan and Viktor, they’ll have their turns too. She’s seeking individual moments with each of us, a separation of worlds within our tangled web.

Finishing my drink, I savor its familiar sting, a fleeting anchor in the storm of my thoughts. Stepping out into the night, I gesture for my men to take a separate car. I need the solitude, the space to untangle the web of thoughts ensnaring my mind.

Sliding into my car, I ignite the engine, its roar slicing through the night, an auditory counterpoint to the eerie silence of my thoughts. The city speeds past in a blur, but my focus is unyielding, locked on a singular point. Sofia. The anticipation of seeing her, the unnerving prospect of this date, it feels like a deviation from my very essence.

But here I am, doing it anyway.

The drive to the shore is quick. When I finally arrive, there she is.

Stepping onto the yacht, I catch sight of Sofia in that dress. It’s like a damn siren call. Under the moon’s glow, her cheeks are dusted with a rosy hue that even the shadows can’t hide, her freckles playing a shy game of peek-a-boo. My jaw drops; I bite my lip, trying to keep my composure.

“Is this too short?” she asks, uncertainty flickering in her eyes, almost as if she’s challenging me to disagree.

I can’t help but let my gaze linger, taking in every inch. “Too short? Babygirl, you can wear whatever you like. I know how to fight.” My voice is a low rumble, laced with a hunger I don’t bother to hide.

“If I didn’t know you, I could swear you were excited for the date.”

I lean in close, my lips just inches from hers, the tension between us thick enough to cut. “You dream a lot, don’t you, Sofia?” I chuckle.

I pull back to start the yacht. The engine purrs to life. Driving away from the shore, the cool sea breeze mingles with the warmth radiating from her. It’s a dangerous game we’re playing, her innocence clashing with my darkness. But tonight, I don’t care. Tonight, it’s about this moment, this impossible connection between a Bratva boss and a woman who’s turned his world upside down.

I glance at her, her hair dancing in the wind, her laughter still echoing in my ears. For the first time in a long time, I allow myself a moment of pure, unguarded enjoyment.

The yacht cuts through the water, the shore approaching fast. I keep my eyes on Sofia, remembering the last time she was here, how fear clung to her like a second skin.

“You have nothing to be afraid of when I’m right next to you, Sofia,” I assure her, my voice a low rumble. I pull her close, feeling her body against mine.

Even in that short dress, she manages to look innocent and alluring at the same time. God, I want to touch all over her. I crave her. Her touch, her scent, her every breath. And tonight, she’s mine and mine only.

As we reach the shore, my men are waiting, but Sofia’s eyes are locked on me, like I’m the only thing that exists in her world right now. There’s something about that look. It’s more than just attraction; it’s trust, something I’m not used to being given freely.

She walks ahead to the car, slipping into the front seat with an ease that shows how familiar she’s become with this part of my life. The car is an extension of me; sleek, powerful, and not to be messed with.

As we drive off, Sofia’s gaze darts around, her instincts still sharp. Suddenly, she stiffens. “That car, it’s been following us.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Those are my men, princess. But hey, nice catch.” I’m impressed; she’s observant, a trait that’s valuable in my world.

Sofia shoots back a quick-witted response, her lips curling into a playful smirk. “I’m learning from the best, aren’t I? Next time I’ll charge you for my security services.”

The restaurant we’re headed to holds me in high regard, recognizing my presence. It’s a high-end establishment where influence reigns supreme over wealth. But tonight, it’s notabout control or fear. It’s about providing Sofia with something unique, something she truly deserves.

I spend the whole drive trying not to stare at her. Fuck, it’s hard. She’s right there, looking like something out of a fantasy. It reminds me of the days before all this, before I became who I am. There was a time when I thought about simple things, like dates and romance. But life, my life, had other plans. The path I walked, it didn’t have room for softness, for love. It was about survival, about power. And yet, here I am, going against everything I’ve ever known.

We arrive at the restaurant, and her heels click against the marble as we enter. The place is empty, completely reserved for just the two of us.

“Is this normal? Where is everyone?” Sofia asks, her voice tinged with surprise.

“I reserved the whole place. Just us tonight. I don’t want any interruptions,” I reply, casually. It cost a fortune, but I don’t care.

I can tell she’s impressed, maybe even a bit overwhelmed.

“Sit right next to me,” I command suddenly, grabbing hold of her arm gently enough not to hurt her but firm enough to show who’s in charge. She gasps slightly but doesn’t resist, instead turning to face me.

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