Page 11 of An Arranged Virgin for the Bratva

We’re almost at the table when the crowd parts, revealing Vladimir looking straight in my direction. His broad shoulders and muscular frame cut an imposing figure, his black eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that sends an involuntary shiver down my spine. I pause, ever so briefly, as time seems to stand still. I find myself reaching for a strand of hair, tucking it behind my ear.

Shit. I can’t let him see me rattled.

I put on a mask of cool indifference and reach for my chair, sitting before he can even stand to greet me. I ignore him, needing to stay in control, and look at the maître d’. “A chianti, please.”

I turn to find Vladimir staring at me, his black eyes peering into mine. I sit up, posture rigid and straight. He breaks into the most charming smile, setting my heart to race, but I force my face to remain impassive. I won't give Vladimir Zolotov the satisfaction of seeing me nervous.

“Sofia,” he says at last. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

I hesitate for a moment, my pride warring with social niceties. Finally, I convince myself to stick to the plan.

"Let's skip the pleasantries," I say, my tone sharp. "I'm here to discuss this… arrangement."

Vladimir's lips quirk into the barest hint of a smile, and I can't help but feel he's enjoying this far too much. As he motions at me to continue speaking, I resist the urge to fidget under his scrutiny.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the confrontation. "This marriage is a terrible idea," I begin, my words clipped and precise. "Surely, a man of your… standing understands the value of freedom and independence."

Vladimir remains silent, that infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. I press on, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Or perhaps you're so eager to shackle yourself to a stranger that you've forgotten the joys of autonomy?"

I pause, expecting him to interject, but he merely raises an eyebrow, his gaze never leaving mine. The intensity of his stare is unnerving, but I refuse to be cowed.

"We're living in the 21st century," I continue, my tone growing increasingly sardonic. "Arranged marriages are relics of the past. Surely, we can find a more… civilized way to strengthen our families' ties? My brothers are half-wits, you know? You don’t have to listen to their foolish ideas. Besides, our ties arestrong already. Dima is married to your sister, who we love very much. Surely, we don’t need another marriage. I simply don’t know whattheywere thinking."

Vladimir leans back in his chair, his posture relaxed, but his eyes still burning with that unsettling intensity. "Are you quite finished?" he asks, his voice low and measured.

I blink, thrown off by his calm demeanor. "I—"

"Because," he continues, cutting me off, "I believe there's something you should know."

My eyes narrow suspiciously. "And what might that be?"

Vladimir's smirk widens into a full-blown smile, sending another involuntary shiver down my spine. "This marriage," he says slowly, savoring each word, "was my idea."

My carefully constructed arguments crumble in an instant, my eyes widening in shock. "What?" I manage to choke out, my entire plan shattering.

"The marriage," he continues, his gaze unwavering. "I proposed it to your brothers."

My mind reels, struggling to process this unexpected twist. I feel my cheeks flush with a mix of anger and embarrassment, my carefully prepared arguments crumbling around me.

Rage flares within me, hot and all-consuming. My hands clench into fists under the table as I lean forward, my voice rising with each word. “You orchestrated this whole charade, didn’t you? Is that why you were bothering me at that party?”

“I wasn’t aware that I was bothering you.” He tries to hold back a smile, which infuriates me even more.

"What's your endgame here, Zolotov? Power? Money? Or is this just some sick game to you?" I spit the words at him, no longer caring about the scandalized looks from nearby diners.

He leans in, matching my posture, his voice low and controlled. "If you'd calm down for a moment, Sofia, I could explain—"

"Calm down?" I interrupt, my laugh bitter and sharp. "You've just admitted to manipulating my brothers—my family—and you expect me to be calm?"

His eyes darken, and a mixture of anger and concern passes over his face, the first crack in his composed facade. "This union benefits both our families. If you'd listen—"

But I'm too incensed to hear reason. My mind races with the implications, the betrayal cutting deep. "I won't be a pawn in whatever your end game is, Vladimir. I refuse to—"

"It's not about power," he interjects, his voice gaining an edge. "It's about protection."

I scoff, crossing my arms. "Protection? From what, exactly?"

Vladimir's gaze sweeps the restaurant before settling back on me. "There are forces at work that you don't understand, Sofia. This marriage ensures your safety, your family's safety, and mine."

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