Page 12 of Brutal Bratva Boss

Theo, or rather Fyodor, has me cornered and he knows it. Even if I had some way to mask the emotions that are splayed across my face, I am sure he knows enough about my father’s organization to have some inkling about how things work. After all, he was able to figure out who I am, and I did not give him much to go on.

I want to argue this, to refuse and fight my way out of here, but we both know I am in no position to do that. The look on Theo’s face—I don’t think I will be able to get used to calling him Fyodor—tells me he knows exactly what I am thinking. If I try to run, I will be putting my unborn child at risk. Even though I have barely warmed up to the idea of being a mother, the instinct to protect my own is already firmly in place.

There will be no running. But that does not mean I have to make this easy.

I push myself out of the chair, walking to the middle of the room before I turn to face Theo head-on, squaring my shoulders. “And how long until I leave the confines of your home in a body bag? As soon as I provide you with an heir suitable to inherit your throne?”

Theo clenches his teeth, his jaw ticking. He stalks over to me, grabbing my arm roughly. “I told you I am a man of my word. And I gave you my word that no harm will come to you or the child as long as you remain loyal.” He starts pulling me back to the desk, stopping when we reach the chair I was sitting in moments ago. He spins me around to face him. “But you are testing my patience, something I have unsurprisingly little of.”

He lets go of my arm and nods to the chair. “Sit.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I pull my lip up. “Do I look like a dog you can order around?”

Theo regards me, anger bubbling just below the surface. “No, you look like the woman who is going to be my wife. And I happen to like my women subservient.”

“How convenient for you.”

He grabs some sheets of paper and a pen from one of his drawers, slamming them down on the desk in front of me. “You will write a letter to your father, telling him you’re going out of town for a while.”

“I will do no such thing.”

A hand wraps around my throat and the next thing I know, Theo’s face is inches from mine. “It was not a suggestion, princess. You will do this or there will be consequences, and you will not like them.”

For a brief moment, the gold in his otherwise deep brown irises distracts me from the hand tightening around my neck. The light flecks glisten in his eyes like ice in bourbon. How is it someone who was so in tune with my body only weeks ago, someone whose touch was so soft that it brought me to the edge faster than I have ever experienced before, can be so cruel? Why is it that out of all the men I could have allowed to claim me that night, it had to be the one man who is more like my father than any other, maybe even worse?

It feels like my heart is slowly breaking, hairline cracks forming and gradually growing in size until it feels like it might shatter into pieces. Not only for me and the situation I have found myself in but for my unborn child, who has no idea of the monster he will soon call father.

A tear leaks out the corner of my eye, tickling as it makes its way down my cheek.

The hand around my throat loosens, and Theo’s eyes soften slightly. He brings his free hand to my face, brushing away the moisture with the pad of his thumb. He inhales deeply as his eyes close for a second before popping open again. “Just write the damn letter.”

“I have no idea what to say.” My voice is barely a whisper.

Theo drops his hands, shoving them in his pockets. “Figure it out.”

And so, with Theo looking over my shoulder, I write to my father. I apologize for not telling him beforehand, but I am going to visit my cousin who has recently had a baby. I tell him I want to help her in the first weeks of motherhood because I know how important family is and I want to be a good daughter. I assure him I will do everything in my power to represent our family in a positive way, just like he taught me. Basically, I write everything I know will placate him, stroke his ego, and hopefully keep him at bay for a while. I know it will not hold him off for long, though; the leash my father keeps me on is short, and he likes knowing where I am at regular intervals.

When I am done, I hand the note to Theo, who inspects it.

He nods approvingly. “That should do.”

“I’ll need to make an appearance at some point. My father will get suspicious if he doesn’t hear from me for too long.”

“No, you won’t,” Theo says.

“My father will come looking for me once he learns I’m not where I claim to be. We both know people talk. It’s only a matter of time until he figures out where I am and comes for me.”

“So let him come.” Theo spreads his arms out to the sides. “If he sets foot in our territory, I am within my rights to rain down the full force of this organization.”

Anger at his arrogance courses through me, lifting me out of the chair. “Are you mad? That would start a war!”

Theo shrugs. “Wars have been started over less. Why not an heir?” He pins me with a glare. “My heir.”

Realization strikes. It is not arrogance at all. Theo is possessive. In the span of one conversation, he has already come to think of this child as his. It belongs to him. As do I if he is serious about us getting married. Chaos erupts in my chest as my emotions war. On one hand, Theo claiming me as his sends a thrill through me for reasons I cannot explain. But on the other hand, I fear what this could mean for the future. I worry that this will shackle me in many of the same ways as if my father arranged a marriage for me. I want to believe that Theo is different and that what we shared that night was real. But from what I have seen so far, he may very well be an evil on the same level as my father. A different evil, perhaps, but an evil nonetheless.

After Theo hands off my letter to one of his men to deliver, he ushers me into an SUV with tinted windows and informs me we will be going to his home. The car ride is an uncomfortable one. I feel his eyes on me constantly, and he only moves them to the window when I turn to look at him. Seconds after I look away, his gaze is locked on me again. This goes on for the first half of the ride until I force myself not to look at him for any reason.

I do not know what I was expecting when Theo said we would be going to his home. High walls, a moat, and some bridges guarding the entrances maybe? What I did not expect is the open piece of green land with a canopy of trees down the driveway. The road opens up to form a wide circle around a multi-layered concrete fountain, large enough for at least a dozen cars to park in front of the house. Although house might be the wrong word to describe the large two-story light grey building spanning over the length of a football field. I am not even able to see how deep it goes.

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