Page 32 of Bred To Be Owned

I hadn’t seen Adrik since the first night, but when he walked into the kitchen, my guard was instantly up. I wasn’t afraid of him. He’d never hurt me, but I was uncomfortable. He thought I wasn’t good enough for his brother, and he had no problem reminding me. I didn’t stop rolling the dolmades while I watched him bring his plate to the counter and take a seat across from me.

“You’ve cooked with the staff all week. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner,” he stated, taking a bite.

I remained silent, still rolling the grape leaves.

“We’re Russian. We own and operate the best restaurants in the city, and yet, a Greek cooks for us. You could have ordered anything from the staff, and they would have had it delivered.”

I was sure that was an insult, but I wouldn’t show him it had stung. I could have asked the staff to feed the men, but that would have giventhe wrong impression. My mother ordered my father’s staff around as if they were animals with collars she could yank when they stepped out of line. These people weren’t my family, but I felt it was important to run the house based on mutual respect. I remained silent. I wouldn’t explain my feelings to Adrik when he’d use them against me.

“Did you know that when we are children, we’re taught to cook? Anyone who shows promise is fast-tracked for a restaurant. Ilya was at the top of his age group.”

“No, but that was something he should have told me.” I didn’t want to learn about my Russian from his brother.

“Ilya won’t. He lost his dream when his father passed away.” Adrik took another bite. “Survival mode does strange things to people.”

This was an invasion of his privacy. If my Russian wanted me to know something about his past, he should be the one to tell me. My anger was simmering at the situation, but I kept my hands moving. I was afraid I’d try to reach over and strangle the man in front of me. “Tell me what you want me to know, but don’t betray his confidence.”

Adrik smirked in my direction. “We’ve watched you since Irini’s first wedding, but for the life of me, I never knew what he saw in you. You’re pretty, but there are plenty of other women who are. I would have understood if he had mentioned Katalina.”

I wouldn’t give him the reaction he was looking for.

“You’re smart, but that’s common, if you know where to search. At one point, I thought he had lost his mind, lusting after what he couldn’t have. The men thought so as well.” He raised his fork for another bite. “I get it now.”

I waited patiently for him to finish his lecture. “You get what?” I prompted him through gritted teeth. I stopped rolling the dolmades, but my fingers twitched.

Another bite. I hoped he choked on it.

“Ilya is my blood brother.” He shrugged and continued to eat. “You call them trafficked now, but my mother was a whore. She worked the streets until she figured out she was pregnant with me. The way I heard it, she went to the local Bratva whorehouse and begged for a job. Pregnant women make more. You can’t knock them up, and some men like that sort of thing.” He shuddered.

“She worked the nights, and I ran up and down the halls watching the johns come and go.” He took another bite, chewing loudly. “Ilya’s father was Bratva, well-respected but not very high up. He visited my mother on the regular until he knocked her up again. That time, he moved us into a small home, and we were a fucked-up family.”

I didn’t want to be rude, but I wanted him to hurry and leave. “How does this relate to what you think you know about me?”

“My mother couldn’t keep it together enough to raise her two children. I went without dinner some nights to make sure he ate, his diaper was changed, and he had clothes that actually fit him. He grew like a weed.” Adrik smirked. “My brother is a meticulous planner because he doesn’t like unpredictable outcomes. It makes sense when you think about it. We went from a small house with barely any food to the streets with nothing.” He waved his fork around as if he was analyzing the situation before taking a bite.

“You’re competent in areas that my mother would have never been. She always played the victim, screeching at his father to fix it every time. You won’t, and that’s obvious with your club. They gave you a shit show, and instead of crying about it, you made it work.” Adrik set his fork down, sliding the plate towards me. “It’s why he would do anything you asked. If you need help, he already knows you’ve exhausted all of your options, and he can swoop in and fix it. Feeds his manly pride.”

He stood from his barstool and walked towards the kitchen door. Right before he exited, he turned around and pointed at me. “Burn him, and I’ll make your life a living hell, sweetheart.”

I stood at the counter, reliving the conversation. Analyzing every part. I wouldn’t let my Russian suffer for my mistakes. As much as I wanted to let Adrik burn for his own stupidity, I wouldn’t. He smelled of expensive bourbon, and the shadows under his eyes mirrored my own. I understood his meaning, even if I hadn’t liked the delivery. However, he would need to silence whatever demons he was holding onto before they ate him alive. His brother would never let him fall, in the same way I had protected my sister.

Chapter 18

Toula

There was no news by the end of the week, and no other raids had occurred. It caused unease among all of us, the tension mounting within the Russian’s base. The men drove themselves to the brink of madness, completing the tasks, questioning if they were doing enough.

It was late in the evening when I made a plate and walked down to my Russian’s office. He hadn’t surfaced since I’d seen him for a few minutes this morning during breakfast. Knocking lightly on the door, I waited.

“Come in.”

I stepped into the room and shut the door behind me. Stopping to inspect him, I could see where the week had taken its toll. The suit coat and tie I had seen him wearing earlier were laying on the back of the chair in front of his desk. His dress shirt, wrinkled and cuffed at the elbows, looked like it had endured a long day of sitting. His hair stood up on all ends as if he had run his fingers through it a million times,and there were dark shadows under his eyes. My Russian couldn’t have been sleeping more than a few hours a night. He never went to bed with me, and he was gone before I awoke each morning.

I walked over to the couch and curled up into the corner. “Come eat,” I told him as I raised the plate in his direction.

He dropped the pen in his hand, pushed his desk chair back, and stretched. Rubbing his eyes, he yawned before he stood and came over to me. I thought he’d sit next to me and eat, but he took the plate from my hand and placed it on an end table behind me.

Before I could register what was happening, my Russian had caged me against the arm of the couch. He laid down on top of me, his head on my shoulder, his eyes closed. I turned my face towards him, giggling when his nose tickled the crook of my neck. I felt his arms circle my back, and I wrapped mine around him.

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