Page 39 of An Arranged Virgin for the Bratva

Vlad nods, a hint of understanding in his eyes. "That skill will serve you well in this world, Sofia. The ability to keep your composure, to present a convincing facade—it's invaluable."

“Do you really mean that?” I ask, taken aback by the unexpected compliment.

He pauses, considering his words carefully. "I do, and it's more than that. The skills you demonstrated tonight—they're crucial for survival in this mission you’re on. The truth is, I think you’re ready.”

I pause, taking in his words. “I’m ready?” I ask in a monotone voice, still in disbelief that this day could come.

“You are.” He nods curtly. “More than you know.”

I feel a shift in the air between us, subtle but undeniable. "I suppose I have a wonderful teacher," I say, my tone softening despite myself.

Vlad's lips quirk into a small smile. "We learn from each other, I think."

I feel a strange flutter in my chest at Vlad's words, a mixture of pride and confusion swirling within me. My fingers twitch at my sides, wanting to reach out but unsure if I should. I settle for a nod, my eyes never leaving his.

Vlad's gaze softens further, and I find myself drawn to the warmth in his dark eyes. It's the polar opposite of the anger I saw earlier.

"We should rest," Vlad says suddenly, breaking the moment. "Tomorrow, go on the real mission."

I arch an eyebrow, my impatience for tomorrow rising instinctively. "And what exactly would that entail?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "For now, it means sleep. We both need to be sharp. Then, we reconvene in the morning."

I consider arguing, pressing for more information, but exhaustion is creeping in at the edges of my consciousness. Against my better judgment, I nod. Together, we walk to his bedroom, anger forgotten.

Once inside, Vlad follows and closes the door behind him, his presence looming behind me. The air feels charged, thick with unspoken words and lingering tension.

"Which side do you prefer?" Vlad asks, his voice unexpectedly gentle.

I turn, eyeing him skeptically. "You're actually planning on deciding sides?"

He shrugs. "We're married, aren't we? Might as well act the part and have a permanent side."

I roll my eyes but can't help the flutter in my stomach. "Fine. I'll take the left."

We settle into bed, the rustle of sheets the only sound breaking the silence. I lie rigid, hyper-aware of Vlad's warmth beside me. Despite everything, there's a comfort in his proximity that I can't deny.

"Sofia," Vlad murmurs, his breath tickling my ear. "Relax. I won't bite."

I scoff but turn to face him. I find him watching me, his eyes peering into mine. For a while, the entire world fades away.

So much has happened tonight, but looking into his eyes brings me back to just one moment. When he held me tight in his arms, his fingers exploring parts of me that no one else had. The way he made me feel comes rushing back, and without a second thought, I put out my hand and gently caress the back of his hand.

A glimmer of surprise crosses his eyes, but then Vlad reaches out, hesitating for a moment before gently brushing a strand of hair from my face.

I feel myself leaning into his touch. As we settle into a more comfortable position, Vlad's arm drapes over my waist, pulling me closer. I should resist, but I find myself melting into his embrace.

As sleep begins to claim me, I can't help but reflect on the complexity of our situation. This man, who hours ago had me trembling with anger, now holds me with a tenderness I never expected.

My last coherent thought before drifting off is a promise to myself: I will remain strong, I will stay focused, and I will not let Vlad Petrov become my weakness. But even as I think it, a small part of me wonders if it might already be too late.

Chapter 15 - Vladimir

I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, the rhythm matching my racing heartbeat. The clock on the dashboard moves at an agonizingly slow pace. 11:58 PM. Two minutes until Sofia's scheduled exit.

My eyes dart between the building's entrance and the surrounding streets, searching for any sign of danger. The night is quiet, too quiet for my liking. I exhale slowly, trying to calm my nerves.

Through the tinted windows of the speakeasy, I catch a glimpse of Sofia's unmistakable blonde hair. She's talking to one of the Crimson Crew members, Alexei Volkov—the samebastardwho dared lay his hands on her that night at the club—her body language completely transformed. Gone is the cool, collected woman I know. In her place standsKira,all bubbly smiles and exaggerated gestures.

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