Page 31 of Used By the Bratva

Keeping her alive all these years only to destroy her life now could have been a stroke of genius by my subconscious while I was too numb to think properly back then.

I circle her and push her deeper into the office.

Wisely, she doesn’t stand with her back to me but turns around and takes large steps backward until my desk digs into her hips. All I can think about is how I want to wrap her shiny brunette hair around my fist and bend her over my desk.

As I stop before her, I inhale deeply and breathe in her scent. I try to decide how to break her first, but I struggle to think coherently. I've already conquered her body and given her the best orgasms of her life. And she willingly took everything I had given her.

For the last fifteen years, I have been thinking about the moment when I would see her again and what I would say to her if I did.

And now the time has finally come. “Well, that’s a surprise, don’t you think?”

Her brown eyes were glassy from the tears gathering along her waterline. “What do you want from me?”

“You are the one who wanted to see me.” I cross my arms and tower over her, our bodies only inches apart as she leans against the desk. “You brought this on yourself.”

“I didn’t know that it would be you.” Defiance burns in her eyes, pinning me with years of built-up resentment and pain, just like the little girl who asked me to send her away.

We stare at each other. She may hold back parts of herself—guarding her anger and hatred—but life etches its mark on all of us, and there is something deeper in her soul—a vulnerability and a pain that mirrors my own. My solnyshko, the pain will only get worse.

She grips the edge of the desk until her knuckles are white. “Why have you been sending Marina Popov money?”

Smirking, I lean closer to her, loving the hitch in her breath. I’m sure that her heart is racing, on the verge of exploding. “Repayment.”

I bend down, hands landing on the desk on either side of her body. I pin her between my arms and hold her captive as I run my nose along her neck. Her pulse throbs under the gentle touch, and the scent of her floral perfume grows more pungent as her body heats up.

“I … I should go. This was a mistake. I did not want to see you ever again.” She blushes.

“Oh, solnyshko, what makes you think I’m going to let you go now? See, I was the one who sent you away the first time. The second time, you ran away from me, and now you're back by some crazy freak of nature. Fucking hell, this is too good to be true.”

“What do you mean? Who are you? And what was the repayment for?” She barks back at me.

I pull back just enough to look at her face, and a low, cynical sound plays around the edges of my lips. “Because solnyshko, I killed your family.”

A loud gasp escapes her. “Wh–What?”

Her eyes, once warm and bright, now narrow to icy slits, a silent fear etched on her face; she stares at me as if I were the Grim Reaper.

Good. She should not see me as anything other than what I am. The sooner she realizes I am the reason for everything terrible in her life, the better.

“You heard me.” I drawl.

“No, no, no ... That’s impossible.” Her words are barely more than a whisper as she struggles to breathe.

“Impossible? No. I was twenty-three when I killed your family. Your father didn’t know what was coming until it was too late to run away. You should have heard him calling for his sons and his wife. Your mother. Your brothers.”

The woman I killed was not her mother, but that is not information I will share with her just yet.

I want it to hurt as much as possible. This is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for. To hurt her, to make her feel the pain I feel every time I wake up from my nightmare.

“You should have heard your mother scream,” I say as I push myself off the desk and take a few steps back. “Like a wounded animal. She didn’t believe I would kill your brothers. She begged for their lives.”

Natalie’s nostrils flare and her fingers clutch the edge of the desk so tightly that she could break it. Her lower lip quivers, and her jaw works overtime as she presses her lips into a thin line. Darkness and despair fill her gaze.

With a wicked grin, I brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “Come to think of it, you look much like your eldest brother. Same big dark eyes and wavy chocolate brown hair. He was the hardest to kill. He put up more of a fight than your cowardly father.”

“Stop it, please.” She shakes her head and trembles as a tear rolls down her cheek.

Her feisty spirit is crumbling. But I am merciless; I will slowly dismantle her life piece by piece until she is broken. So, I continue.

---