Page 33 of An Arranged Virgin for the Bratva

I step into the dimly lit bar we chose for tonight’s test, my eyes sweeping the room with practiced efficiency. No familiar faces. Good. I choose a secluded corner booth, sliding onto the worn leather seat as I order my usual vodka neat.

The amber liquid burns a familiar path down my throat as I take a sip, my mind already drifting to thoughts of Sofia. I smile as I imagine how exactly tonight might unfold. It’ll be fun to see her attempts at seduction. Little does she know this whole plan serves no purpose.

Consider me seduced from the moment I first laid eyes on her.

The door swings open with a creak, drawing my attention. A striking brunette saunters in, wearing a tight golden sequined dress that is not only cut dangerously low but gathers tight at her small waist and ends just below the knees. It leaves little to the imagination, and yet, oh so much. She’s wearing bangles and long earrings, and her hair is swept over on one side, highlighting a perfect cheekbone on the other.

I see heads turn. My gaze lingers, appreciating the sway of her hips in those glittery high heels and the confidence in her stride. In another life, I would havecertainlybeen interested.

But now, I’ve got eyes for just one.

I scan the room again, searching for a glimpse of pin-straight blonde hair or flashing green eyes. Nothing. Where is she? Punctuality has always been one of Sofia's strengths. Her tardiness is… unsettling.

My fingers drum against the sticky tabletop as I check my watch for the third time in as many minutes. The ice in myglass clinks as I take another sip, the burn doing little to ease the tension coiling in my gut.

"Come on, Sofia," I growl under my breath. "Where are you?"

Has something happened? Should I be worried? The protective instinct that's been growing since I met her flares to life, urging me to action.

Or maybe, a tiny voice says. This is her move. By making me wait, she’s getting me eager, weakening me for when I finally see her. If that’s the case, she’s already winning the game.

Impressive move, I think to myself.

The brunette glides toward the bar and curves her body over it, extending one slim arm to call for the attention of the waiter. She then settles onto the stool beside me and extends her legs out before her, gracefully locking one ankle over the other and I catch a whiff of her perfume—a heady, intoxicating scent that's both familiar and new.

"Vodka, neat," she orders, her voice low and husky.

My heart lurches. That voice. I'd know it anywhere, even if it's pitched differently tonight. I turn my body toward her, unable to hide my shock as I take in the sight before me.

"Sofia?" I breathe, my eyes widening as I struggle to reconcile the person in front of me with the woman I married.

She turns to face me and gives me a wink, a smirk playing on ruby-red lips that I've never seen so boldly painted. "Hello, Vladimir," she purrs, her green eyes sparkling with mischief beneath the dark wig.

I fight to regain my composure, plastering on a teasing smirk to mask my surprise. "Well, well. Aren't you full ofsurprises?" I drawl, letting my gaze roam over her disguise. "I have to say, I'm impressed. I wouldn’t have recognized you.”

Sofia leans in, her breath warm against my ear as she whispers, "What gave me away, handsome?"

I struggle to maintain my usual aloof demeanor as Sofia's boldness catches me off guard. I clench my fist, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her, to confirm that this seductive creature is really my Sofia.

"Your voice," I manage, my voice rougher than I'd like. "Though I have to wonder why you felt the need for such… elaborate measures."

"Elaborate measures?" she counters, arching an eyebrow. "I thought you'd appreciate a woman who knows how to blend in. Isn't that what you taught me?"

The way she says taught is slow, tantalizing, suggestive, and lights a fire in my blood.

“Oh,” I murmur, leaning in until my lips brush against her ear. I feel her shiver and wonder if my touch truly affects her or if it’s all a part of her game. “I could teach you a lot more. But playing with fire might get you burned.”

She tilts her head back slightly, a challenging glint in her eyes as she meets my gaze. "Maybe I like the heat," she retorts softly, her fingers grazing my hand, which rests on the bar.

The touch sends a jolt through me, and I have to resist the urge to grab her hand and pull her closer. Instead, I see her lift her glass to her lips, innocently sipping on her vodka.

Did she mean to graze my hand, or was it an accident?

Damn it, she’s playing me, and she’s playing mefuckingwell.

I watch her out of the corner of my eye, feeling the air between us crackle with unspoken tension. Sofia pretends to be engrossed in her vodka, but I see the small smile playing at the corners of her lips, and I know she's aware of the effect she has on me.

"Just be careful, Sofia," I warn in a low voice, leaning even closer and grabbing her stool until it swivels and she has no choice but to turn and fully face me, our bodies almost touching. "Playing with me might lead you places you're not ready to go."

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