Page 12 of An Arranged Virgin for the Bratva

His words should give me pause, but my anger blinds me to any logic. "I can protect myself," I hiss, even as a small part of me wonders what threats he could be alluding to.

“I’m sure you can,” he says. “But you do have to marry eventually, don’t you? Better me than some loser who might bring you down and cut out your family.”

I push my chair back abruptly, the harsh scrape of wood against marble echoing through the restaurant. My hands tremble with barely contained rage as I stand, towering over Vladimir in my heels. “How dare you? You’re making judgments without even knowing me. Do you think I’d ever choose to marry someone who wants anything less than the best for me and my family?”

“Do you think anyone has better-vested interests than me? My sister is married to your brother, god damn it. I care more about the Orlov security than you know!” he argues back, rendering me speechless for just a moment.

With emotions boiling over, the tension crackles in the air between us. I search his eyes for any sign of falsehood, but all I find is unwavering determination. My anger slowly begins to ebb, replaced by a gnawing uncertainty. Could there be truth in his words?

I take a step back, my resolve wavering as conflicting thoughts swirl in my mind. Vladimir watches me closely, his own features betraying nothing but sincerity.

Or, he could be playing us all. The cynic in me wins.

"You know what, Vladimir?" I snarl. "You can take your protection and your manipulations and shove them where the sun doesn't shine.”

I grab my bag, prepared to walk out, only to find him reaching out and holding my wrist. I turn to see him looking up at me with such concern that it bothers me.

“Sofia, please,” he says, releasing my hand now that he has my attention. I caress my skin, which still tingles from his touch. “Just think about what I said. If you want a marriage that puts you and your family first, I might just be the best bet.”

My breath catches in my throat at his unexpected plea, my anger momentarily overshadowed by the vulnerability in his eyes. For a man reputed for his unyielding strength and authority, there is an almost desperate edge to his tone that I can't ignore.

I pull away from him, my expression guarded as I study his face. "I don't trust you, Vladimir," I admit, my voice softer now, edged with resignation. “But I always put family first.”

And then, I walk out.

***

I step out of the restaurant. My breath comes in short, angry bursts, and I lean against the cool brick of the building, trying to regain my composure. The quiet of the street does nothing to calm my nerves after our heated encounter.

I simply don’t know what happened in there. I went in adamant on breaking this charade off. How the hell did I exit agreeing to this marriage?

For family,I tell myself. As the adrenaline fades, a horrifying realization crashes over me. This arranged marriage… it could ruin everything.

My family's safety depends on me infiltrating the gangsters threatening us. For months, I’ve been studying threats against us, and there’s a rising group wanting to cut us down. The secret mission I've been meticulously planning for months now seems to be hanging by a thread. How can I possibly infiltrate the gang when I'm to be married to a Zolotov?

I can’t exactly abandon my mission to make this threat go away. Going to my brothers isn’t an option. They’d resort toviolence and escalate the whole thing. But, by befriending them, I could convince the gang to let their vengeance slide.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

"Think, Sofia," I mutter to myself. "There has to be a way to make this work."

Perhaps this marriage doesn’t have to change anything. I’ll play the dutiful wife by day and continue my work while Vladimir is away.

A plan begins to form in my mind, pieces falling into place like a complex puzzle. Vladimir may think he's won, but he has no idea who he's dealing with. I allow a small, sardonic smile to curve my lips.

"Two can play at this game, Mr. Zolotov," I murmur, my fingertips tracing the spot the sensation of his hand still lingers on. "You want a wife? I'll give you one. But on my terms."

Chapter 5 - Vladimir

Abram's hands smooth down my lapels, his touch trying to make up for the father we lost years ago. "Today, you make our family stronger. I must admit, I’m proud of you, Vlad, for having made this wise choice."

I stand still as stone, allowing him to fuss over my appearance. If only he knew the real reason behind my decision. Sofia's face flashes in my mind—those piercing green eyes, the elegant curve of her neck. My jaw clenches. I'm not doing this for the family. I'm doing it to keep her safe, to make her mine.

Would that pride remain if I admitted my true motives? Probably not.

"There," Abram says, stepping back to admire his handiwork. "You look every bit the powerful Bratva prince."

"Thank you," I reply, my voice low and controlled. The words taste like ash in my mouth. It’s hard keeping a secret from my brother.

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