Page 7 of The Bratva Bosses' Surrogate

Maxym, the one who seems to be in charge, adds, “We have many enemies, Sofia. We wouldn’t want you getting mixed up with them.”

“Are you guys… like the mafia?”

They don’t answer. They don’t even look my way. That only confirms it.

He extends his hand to help me off the yacht. I hesitate, looking at his outstretched hand. Finally, I take it, realizing I don’t really have a choice. His hand is surprisingly warm, a stark contrast to the chilly air around us.

As I step onto the island, a thousand thoughts race through my mind. What kind of life awaits me here? What dangers lurk in the shadows of their enemies? And most importantly, how am I going to survive this?

Then I spot her. There she is, right at the door. The fake ‘Stacey,’ her hands clasped in front of her. She’s wearing the same outfit she had on earlier, a smirk plastered on her face. Rage bubbles inside me. I can’t stand the sight of her, the woman who deceived me, the reason I’m caught in this web.

“Finally. The prostitute for hire is here,” she says mockingly.

Fury propelling me forward, I close the distance between us in a few strides. My hand connects with her face in a resounding slap. “You bitch! You lied to me!”

She reels from the slap, her eyes flashing with the intent to retaliate. But before she can react, Maxym steps in. He catches her hand mid-air, his voice stern. “Get your hands off her, Kayla.” He positions himself between us, a barrier of muscle and authority.

“Kayla. Is that your name?”

Maxym’s gaze hardens, piercing through me as he holds Kayla back. “That’s enough, Sofia,” he warns, his voice low and commanding.

He then turns to Kayla. “We need her alive and unharmed. Remember our deal.”

“So, what was our deal exactly? Because as far as I can tell, being slapped was not part of it.”

“You’re the one who’s responsible for Sofia’s and the baby’s wellbeing,” Viktor intervenes and Maxym releases his grip on Kayla.

The irony isn’t lost on me. Kayla, the woman who tricked me into this situation, is now responsible for my welfare. “No way, I don’t want her anywhere near me.”

“Let’s get this clear,” Maxym begins, his voice steady, “You’re here for a purpose, Sofia. Cooperate, and you’ll be compensated as agreed. But any more outbursts like this,” he pauses, glancing briefly at Kayla, “will not be tolerated.”

“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth, seeing no choice but to relent. “But she stays on the other side of the house. I don’t want to see her unless absolutely necessary.”

Then, the one who’s been silent this whole time finally speaks up. “That can be arranged,” he says. His voice is calm, almost soothing.

“Here, let me take you to your room,” he offers, gesturing for me to follow him. Relieved to be leaving the volatile situation behind, I follow him, leaving Maxym, Kayla, and Viktor in the room.

As we walk, the quiet envelops us. I decide to break it. “I didn’t catch your name.”

I just asked this man, one who is most likely part of the mafia, his name. Great move, Sofia.

He doesn’t look at me, but there’s a slight smirk on his face. “I’m Ivan,” he replies, his tone casual, as if we’re just two people making polite conversation and not in the midst of a bizarre and stressful situation.

His nonchalance throws me off. How can he be so calm? And what role does he play in all this?

Ivan leads me to what is apparently my room, and I can’t help but be taken aback by its size and luxury. It’s more spacious and lavish than my entire apartment. “So, will you lock me in here?” I ask, half-joking, half-serious.

“No,” Ivan responds with a dry chuckle. “You’re free to leave.”

“What?”

“That’s what I’m here to talk to you about,” Ivan continues, his tone unusually soft. “I know we kind of forced you to come here, but I’m offering you a choice. You’ve seen we’re legitimate. We can provide you with anything you want, almost instantly. I understand we brought you here against your will, so I’m giving you one chance, Sofia. To leave. If you want out, here’s your opportunity. But you won’t get any of this.”

Just as I’m processing his offer, the door opens, and three men enter. They’re all dressed similarly, giving off the vibe of servants or perhaps employees of this elaborate estate.

Each man carries a briefcase, and they set them down with a precision which suggests this isn’t their first time at such a task.

Ivan moves towards the briefcases as the men step back. He flips them open one by one, revealing stacks of money,neatly arranged and filling each case to the brim. The sight is staggering – it’s more money than I’ve ever seen in my life.

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