Page 50 of An Arranged Virgin for the Bratva

"Fuck," I mutter, guilt and regret washing over me. I should've explained how I have those photos. I should've made her understand. Now she's out there, alone and angry, thinking the worst of me.

I pull out my phone, my thumb hovering over her brothers' contact. They need to know, but the thought of admitting I've lost their sister makes my jaw clench. Just as I'm about to hit call, my phone buzzes in my hand. Lara's name flashes on the screen.

I answer, bracing myself. "Lara, what—”

"What the hell did you do, Vlad?" My sister’s voice cuts through, sharp and accusing. "Sofia shows up at Dima and my door looking like she's been through a war, and she won't say a word about what happened between you two."

My free hand curls into a fist. "Is she okay? Where—”

"Oh no, you don't get to ask questions," Lara snaps. "You're going to tell me exactly what happened, and it better be good, or I swear to God, Vlad…"

I take a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's a misunderstanding, Lara. I need to talk to her, to explain—”

"Explain what? She’s here with her suitcases, and she’s pretty damn upset. Dima is in over his head with worry! Vlad," she says, her voice softening. “I don’t think she plans on coming back home.”

Her words hit home, and I close my eyes, leaning against the wall.

Chapter 18 - Sofia

I pace the length of my room, my mind in constant turmoil. The guest room in Dima and Lara's mansion was supposed to be a try at freedom, yet why am I fighting for air?

My mind keeps circling back to Vladimir. His absence gnaws at me, an unexpected void I can't seem to fill. I thought being away from him would help me clear my thoughts, but how can it when it is he I think of at the turn of a thought?

I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms. "Damn you, Zolotov," I mutter, my voice icy even to my own ears.

I halt by the window, staring out at the manicured gardens below. The perfectly trimmed hedges mock me with their order and control—completely unlike my life, which has spiraled into chaos since meeting Vladimir.

"Get it together, Sofia," I chide myself. "He's just a man. A frustrating, infuriating, oddly compelling man…"

I shake my head, trying to dislodge thoughts of his intense black eyes, how he smiled at me in bed, and how tender his touch was. And then, I think of how he betrayed me.

What I need to do instead is put my energy into something productive, like my mission. With Vladimir no longer an ally and a proven barrier, I now need to find a way to undertake it myself.

My stomach twists as I consider my options and realize that without Vladimir, I’m at a loss. I don’t have any of the resources he does, and I feel like I’m back at square one.

I could try to find a way to stay connected with the gang from here. "But if word gets back to my siblings…"

The thought of my brothers and sisters discovering my secret mission sends a chill down my spine. Their disappointment, their anger, their fear—it would be unbearable. I've always been the dutiful one, the one they could trust. To betray that image…

"No," I decide, my voice firm. "I can't risk it. Not yet."

I sink onto the edge of the bed, my usual poise deserting me as I bury my face in my hands. For a moment, I allow myself to feel the weight of it all—the mission, the lies, the unexpected complication of Vladimir Zolotov.

"Pull yourself together," I whisper fiercely. "You're Sofia Orlov. You don't need anyone's help."

But as I lift my head, catching sight of my reflection in the ornate mirror across the room, I can't quite banish the flicker of uncertainty in my eyes. For the first time in years, I feel truly alone.

Just then, a soft knock interrupts my spiraling thoughts. The door creaks open, and Lara's concerned face appears.

"Sofia? Are you alright?" she asks, stepping into the room.

I quickly compose myself, straightening my posture and smoothing my expression. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

Lara's eyes narrow, unconvinced. She approaches, sitting beside me on the bed. "You've been holed up in here for hours. Dima's worried."

I can't help but tense at the mention of Dima. "There's nothing to worry about," I say, my tone cooler than intended.

"Hey," Lara says softly, placing a hand on my arm. "I know my husband can be… persistent. But I promise I'll keephim from prying. Whatever's going on, you can tell us when you're ready. I’ve told him to leave you be for now."

---