Page 27 of An Arranged Virgin for the Bratva

"Remember the promise you made in exchange for my help? That you’d give me anything in return?" he asks, his voice low and steady.

I nod warily. "Of course. What about it?"

Vladimir's gaze is unwavering. "I have my first condition. Starting tonight, you'll be sleeping in my room."

His words hit me like a bucket of ice water. I blink, certain I've misheard. "Excuse me?" I manage, my voice a mix of disbelief and nerves.

Vladimir remains unruffled, his eyes locked on mine. "You heard me correctly, Sofia. You are my wife, and it’s time we play our roles before the staff begin to talk."

My mind races, thoughts tumbling over each other. Sharing a room? With him? The implications send a shiver down my spine—part apprehension, part something else I refuse to name.

"That's… that's completely inappropriate," I stammer, struggling to maintain my usual composure. "Surely you can't be serious."

"I'm entirely serious," he replies, his tone leaving no room for argument. "It's non-negotiable."

I open my mouth to protest further, but the words die on my tongue. I did agree to his terms, didn't I? And without his help… I clench my jaw, hating the realization that washes over me. I need him.

"Fine," I say finally, my voice clipped. "But if you think this means anything beyond what it is—a practical arrangement—you're sorely mistaken."

Vladimir's lips quirk in the barest hint of a smile. "Wouldn't dream of it."

As I turn away, my heart hammers in my chest. What have I gotten myself into? This man, this infuriating, enigmatic man, has upended my carefully constructed world in a matter of days. And now… now we'll be sharing a room.

I take a steadying breath, squaring my shoulders. This is just another challenge, I tell myself. Another obstacle toovercome in pursuit of my goal. I can handle Vladimir Sokolov. I have to.

But as I glance back at him, catching the intensity in his gaze, a flush creeps down my neck, and I find myself thinking back to our kiss.

Chapter 11 - Vladimir

I stand by the window, my gaze fixed on Sofia as she hovers uncertainly near the bed. The thin straps of her shirt leave her shoulders bare, drawing my eyes to the graceful curve of her shoulders. God. In this moment of vulnerability, she’s gorgeous beyond belief. But I don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable.

My jaw clenches as I force myself to look away from her long, shapely legs glimmering beneath those satin shorts.

Sofia's green eyes dart around the room, avoiding mine. "So this is where you sleep," she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she picks up a fluffy cushion. "I expected more… I don't know, leather?"

I arch an eyebrow. "Disappointed?"

A hint of a smirk plays at her lips. "Immensely."

She climbs into bed, pressing herself against the far edge as if afraid I might bite. I suppress a smile at her obvious discomfort. Part of me wants to reassure her, but I know better than to coddle this ice princess.

I slide under the covers on my side, maintaining a respectful distance. "You can relax. I won't touch you."

Sofia scoffs. "As if I was worried about that."

"Weren't you?" I can't resist needling her a bit.

She turns to glare at me, green eyes flashing. "You may be used to women throwing themselves at you, Vladimir, but I'm not impressed by muscles and a brooding stare."

I chuckle softly. "Good. Because I'm not trying to impress you."

Sofia rolls onto her side, putting her back to me. "Then we understand each other perfectly."

As silence falls between us, I find myself hyper-aware of her presence—the soft sound of her breathing, the faint scent of her shampoo. My body urges me to close the distance between us, to pull her against me and bury my face in her hair. But I remain still, respecting the boundaries she's set.

This arrangement may have started as an arranged transaction, but I'm beginning to realize it could become far more complicated than I anticipated. Sofia Orlov is a force to be reckoned with, and I have a feeling she'll be testing my self-control in ways I never expected.

When she tosses to face me, trying to get comfortable, I observe she’s wide awake.

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