Page 5 of Arranged to Marry the Bratva

God forbid later I get to claim he forced me. He wants me to publicly declare how I insist on marrying him.

Fine. So be it. Anything to keep the Zolotovs safe.

I take a deep breath and turn to face my brothers, my resolve strengthening with each passing moment. "Boris, Damien, Lev," I begin, my voice steady despite the turmoil within me. "I already made my decision. You can discuss the wedding arrangements with Nikolai.”

Boris opens his mouth to protest. “You’re in no position to make such decisions, Anoushka!” he growls at me.

But I hold up a hand, silencing him. "Enough!" I shout, silencing my brother and drawing everyone’s attention back to me. "I may be the youngest, but I am not a child anymore. I can make my own decisions."

"Anoushka," Damien begins, his voice gentle but firm. "We know you're an adult, but—"

"Remember when you met Genevieve?" I cut him off, holding his gaze steadily. He hesitates, then nods slowly. "Damien, you did exactly what I’m doing today with Genevieve. Lev, you married Pippa after such chaos! And Boris? You sacrificed what you had to for Robin, the woman you loved. We all make sacrifices in our small way. Let me do what I must."

My brothers exchange uneasy glances, unable to argue with my words.

I look each of them in the eye, seeing the flickers of understanding and reluctance in their gazes. "I'm an adult now, capable of making my own choices. And I choose to do what's best for our family, even if it means entering into this arranged marriage with Nikolai Orlov."

I then turn to face my future husband. Nikolai's piercing gaze meets mine, and there's an intensity in his eyes that both unnerves and intrigues me.

"I must admit, I'm impressed by your courage, Anoushka," Nikolai says, his voice smooth as silk. "Not many would be willing to make such a sacrifice."

I lift my chin, meeting his gaze head-on. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect my family, even if it means marrying a man I barely know."

A flicker of amusement dances in Nikolai's eyes, and the corner of his mouth twitches. "I assure you, Anoushka, you'll come to know me very well in the days to come."

The implication in his words sends a flutter through my stomach, a mix of apprehension and something else I can't quite name. I swallow hard and turn on my heels, walking out of the room.

As I exit the room and close the door behind me, I finally allow myself a moment to breathe. I lean against the door, my eyes fluttering closed as I try to process the whirlwind of emotions coursing through me.

"What have I done?" I whisper to myself, my voice trembling.

Chapter 3 - Nikolai

The sun sinks low in the sky, casting warm light across my dining room as I overlook my staff, who set the table for tonight's family gathering. I scrutinize with practiced precision, ensuring every detail is perfect—from the gleaming silverware to the crisp linen napkins. The atmosphere must be one of importance, symbolizing the gravity of my decision.

“Adjust the centerpiece,” I tell one of the maids; my anticipation builds, a steady thrumming beneath my skin. I can't help but wonder how my siblings will react to the news of the arranged marriage. Though they've always respected me as the head of the family, this is different—more dangerous. And yet, I'm confident in my choice; Anoushka and I will forge an alliance that benefits us both.

Satisfied with the arrangements, I pour myself a glass of vodka and head upstairs to change. The vodka steadies my nerves, providing a moment of clarity before the storm to come.

In my bedroom, I stand at my window, looking out over the city that's been a battlefield for my family and the Zolotovs for generations: Philly. I know what my father would have wanted; he'd want me to continue our crusade against them, to finally crush them underfoot, like every other Bratva clan across the world wishes to. But with my parents gone and most of my extended family dead, barring a few cousins, it's become painfully clear that continuing this war will only lead to more death and destruction.

I figured out, early in my rule, that the Zolotov might is not one to be trifled with. I watched foes and friends alike be crushed beneath their feet. I stood at the sidelines, never speaking for or against the Zolotovs, ultimately deciding that it would take a lot of Orlov blood to try to defeat them. And the victory? There never was a guarantee, and we were always the underdogs.

So, I made the decision. One that went against everything my family stood for, but one that I believe will save us all. Instead of fighting the Zolotovs, we'll join them. The thought initially made my stomach churn, but I couldn’t deny that it seemed to be the best course of action.

First, I gathered all the information I could about them. To turn a foe into a friend, you must first know them inside out, perhaps even better than they know themselves. For over a year now, before Lenny ever betrayed them, I’ve been watching the Zolotovs’.

From the Pakhan of the entire unit, Ivan Zolotov and his siblings to Boris and his, I’ve understood the nature of each member—their strengths, weaknesses, and flaws. I waited for the right moment, and when my spy and their employee, Lenny, set out to betray them, I did the right thing. I saved the Zolotov women he kidnapped and, in turn, curried Boris’s favor.

But the alliance we forged could never have worked. The thing is, I always knew that. I recognized early that the Zolotovs didn’t trust outsiders when even their oldest employees were often kept at arm’s length, information spread strategically amongst the ranks in little sprinkles. The only chance I had to form a true alliance was by becoming family.

And the key to making that happen? Anoushka Zolotov.

I walk away from the window and head to my desk, where I press the concealed button. A small sliver of wood pops out from under the desk, scattered with pictures my spies took. In one, Anoushka volunteers at an animal shelter, cuddling puppies. In another, she and a colleague named Maximus drink coffee. She laughs, blind to the way he looks at her with awe and mild reverence. In a third, she’s throwing snowballs from concealed spots in bushes at unassuming relatives during the Zolotov Christmas brunch.

Anoushka. Just the sight of her sets my blood on fire. She's nothing like the other Zolotov women—docile, submissive, content to be kept in the shadows. No, Anoushka demands attention, and she gets it. She has the spirit of a wildcat and the beauty to match. Every time I see her, I'm struck by the vibrant waves of thick brown hair, the curve of her lips, and the fierce intelligence in her green eyes. It's hard not to be captivated by her.

But it's not just her looks that draw me to her. Anoushka is strong, independent, and fearless. A prankster who knows how to keep people on their toes, qualities I've always admired and sought out in those closest to me. And though I hate to admit it, I can't help but think how powerful our combined forces would be with her by my side. As much as I claim this whole arranged marriage thing is just convenient for business, I can't deny the allure of having Anoushka as my wife.

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