Page 16 of An Arranged Virgin for the Bratva

I turn slightly, meeting Vladimir's intense gaze. His eyes search mine, and for a moment, I wonder if he can see through my carefully constructed facade.

"Well," I say, injecting a hint of playfulness into my voice, "I suppose I'll have plenty of time to unravel the Zolotov mysteries, won't I?"

Vladimir's lip quirks in the barest hint of a smile. "Indeed you will, my angel."

The endearment, 'my angel,' sends an unexpected warmth through me. I push it aside, focusing instead on taking a step away from him. This marriage may be a means to an end, but I refuse to lose sight of my true purpose.

As Vladimir's siblings launch into a debate about the merits of various honeymoon destinations, I allow myself to observe my new husband. Abram and Mark join in, too.

“It’s our last drink of the night, and then, we’re out of here,” Abram tells me. Mark gives me a wink in solidarity.

I watch Vladimir’s quiet strength, the way his family gravitates around him—it's clear why he commands such respect in their world.

Lara sidles up to me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "So, sister dear, ready for your first Zolotov family brunch, whenever it happens? It's quite the event."

I arch an eyebrow, my guard still firmly in place. "Oh? And what should I expect? Bear wrestling? Vodka chugging contests?"

The siblings burst into laughter, and I feel Vladimir's chest rumble against my back. It's… not an unpleasant sensation.

"Nothing so barbaric," Lara chimes in, grinning. "Though I wouldn't put it past Mark after a few drinks."

"Hey!" Mark protests, but there's no heat in it.

I observe their easy banter, a pang of longing hitting me unexpectedly. I suddenly miss my own family, realizing how Vladimir’s is just the same. Together, there’s no shop talk. It’s plain old fun.

"You'll fit right in, Sofia," Lara says, squeezing my arm. "Just bring your wit and maybe some aspirin for the inevitable hangover."

As their laughter fades and goodbyes are exchanged, a heavy silence falls between Vladimir and me. Suddenly, I realize we’re all alone in his house.

It’s late. It’s time for bed.

And my knees nearly buck over with nerves.

I turn around slowly to find Vladimir watching me with a small smile on his lips. This, I realize, is my husband. And from now on, I will belivingwith him.

Shit. The idea of sharing a bedroom with a man I hardly know constricts my chest. I square my shoulders, deciding to set some boundaries before the night progresses any further.

My heart races, but I refuse to let it show.

"Vladimir," I begin, my voice steady despite my inner turmoil. "We need to discuss the terms of our… arrangement."

Vladimir's eyebrow ticks up slightly, but he remains silent, waiting for me to continue. His stillness is unnerving, but I press on.

"First, I maintain my independence. I come and go as I please, no questions asked. Second, separate bedrooms. This is a marriage of convenience, nothing more. And third, I expect to be involved in any decisions that affect my life or my family's."

I hold his gaze, refusing to flinch under the weight of his scrutiny. For a moment, tension crackles between us, and I brace myself for an argument.

To my surprise, Vladimir's lips quirk into what might almost be a smile. "Agreed," he says simply.

I blink, thrown off balance. "Just like that?"

He shrugs, his broad shoulders shifting under his tailored suit. "Your terms are reasonable. I have no desire to cage you, Sofia. But understand this—your safety is non-negotiable. If I believe you're in danger, I will act."

His words send an unexpected shiver down my spine. I nod, processing this unexpected turn of events. "Fair enough," I concede.

As the implications of our agreement settle over me, I feel a weight lift from my shoulders. Perhaps this arrangement won't be the prison sentence I'd feared. I allow myself a small smile, meeting Vladimir's intense gaze.

"Well then, Husband," I say, a hint of my usual sarcasm creeping back into my voice, "shall we toast to our unconventional union?"

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