Page 1 of Paid for By the Bratva

Chapter 1 - Lara

I sit at the breakfast table, picking at my plate of eggs and toast while my older brothers chatter about their plans for the day.

"Ivan's expecting the new designs for the casino by tomorrow," Abram, our eldest brother, says. "We have to nail this one. You know how hard he is to please."

That’s true. We arrived in Philadelphia just two weeks ago, and Ivan Zolotov, the most powerful Bratva cousin we have, has put my brothers straight to work from day one.

"Of course, we’ll nail it," Vladimir says. "Boris gave us all the details. Ivan’s investing a hundred million into it. As long as we can source the materials quickly, the project is ours."

"Imagine if we could secure the development contract," Mark muses, eyes shining with ambition. "It would be fantastic for our family."

They're ignoring me as usual, caught up in their quest to prove themselves. I sigh, longing to escape the dullness of my new life, which seems to get spectacularly more boring day by day. At least in Russia, I had my university classes to keep me busy. Here, in Philadelphia, I know no one and as a recent college graduate, there’s not much to do. "Will you be home tonight?"

Denis glances at me. "Why? Got a hot date?"

“She wouldn’t dare,” Abram warns. “You know you have to pass any man through us first, Sister.”

I purse my lips. As if any man would come close to a Zolotov sister without fearing for his head. "Just wondering. It gets dull here without you all, and you’re always working.”

"Maybe you could visit some museums today," Denis suggests, raising an eyebrow. "You know, take in the city's culture."

I think back to my monotonous life in Russia and keep my thoughts to myself. Museums? What I really want is to explore the vibrant city that never sleeps, to experience the world beyond our front door, but I know they'd never agree to that. So, I nod and say, "Sure, sounds like a plan." But inside, I'm already scheming.

"Stick close to home," Mark says. "It's not safe for a young woman in this city."

"I can take care of myself," I mutter.

"Do as you're told,Sestra. Philadelphia is different from our little town in Russia," Vladimir ruffles my hair as he passes, the patronizing gesture stoking my rebelliousness.” And take the chauffeur with you.”

They leave in a flurry of cologne and confidence, the door slamming behind them. I finish my eggs, deep in thought. They don't own me. I'm not a child anymore. And Philadelphia is my city too now.

I push away from the table, a plan forming in my mind. The housekeepers are used to me retiring to bed early. And my brothers will be out all night, focused on their work as always.

This is my chance—time for an adventure of my own.

***

I finish my dinner at a leisurely pace and leave the maids to clean up. I push through the heavy oak doors leading to my room. It's finally time. Tonight, I will break free fromthis dull-as-hell penthouse and experience the world for myself. Philadelphia City—a city that never sleeps! My heart races at the thought, a mixture of excitement and nerves coursing through me.

"God, I hope I don’t get caught," I whisper to myself, standing in front of my mirror. “My brothers will kill me.”

But if I return before two in the morning, it should be fine. From what I heard, the cousins are going to La Fantasia, Anoushka’s husband Nikolai’s gentleman’s club.

I scan my closet, looking for something that suits my rebellious mood. Something stylish yet inconspicuous. My fingers brush against a silky black dress, and I can't help but smile. Perfect. I slip it on, watching as the fabric clings to my curves. The neckline is daring, the hemline short enough to show off my legs but not too risqué.

After freshening up my makeup, I study my reflection. Long black hair, full lips, black eyes—the maids back in Russia always said I was a great beauty. But my brothers always like me dressed down, not wanting me to draw unnecessary attention.

If they have it their way, I’d stay single forever. With our parents dead, they’re more parental figures than friends. I can’t blame them. We were all so young when it happened.

I slip on a pair of heels, grab my purse, and apply a last layer of red lipstick. "Here goes nothing," I say to my reflection, offering a conspiratorial wink.

Making an effort to breathe as low as I can, I open my bedroom door and step into the dimly lit hallway. The house is quiet, the only sound the gentle hum of the air conditioning, the maids long since retired to their quarters. The coast is clear, but I know I need to be cautious. One wrong move and my brotherswill find out, locking me away for good. But the possibility of adventure calls me forward.

As I tiptoe down the hall, I feel like a spy in some thrilling movie. My pulse quickens as I glance around the corner, making sure no one is there to catch me. Luck seems to be on my side, and I silently thank the universe for giving me this opportunity.

My heart hammers in my chest as I reach the front door. Just a few more steps, I tell myself, trying to keep my breathing even. I slide my hand into my purse, feeling for the key I'd swiped from the kitchen earlier, making sure I have a way back in.

I open the door gingerly and slip out, closing it quietly behind me. The anticipation builds inside me, a bubbling energy that begs to be released.

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