Page 1 of An Arranged Virgin for the Bratva

Chapter 1 - Vladimir

I stride into my older brother’s office, my footsteps echoing off the polished hardwood floors. I knock twice and enter without waiting for a response.

I’ve had a long day and can’t wait to have the rest of the evening to myself. There’s a new business plan I need to create projections for, and then I need to talk to our bank in Russia about cutting our exchange rate for larger transactions. Abram looks up from a stack of papers from behind his oak desk, his cloud-grey eyes locking onto mine.

"Vladimir," he says, his tone clipped.

“I’m done for the day, Brother. If you need me, you can reach me at home.”

I’m about to walk out when I hear him growl. "I trust you remember your obligation this evening."

I clench my jaw and turn around to face him, honestly having forgotten about the charity gala.

“It’s tonight?”

“Yes. Ivan sent your ticket over.”

“Yourticket, you mean,” I cluck my tongue. Ever since Abram got married, he’s needed more personal time to devote to his wife, Zara. While I’m happy for them, the fact is that I’m the one who needs to step up for Abram. More responsibility around this place unfortunately comes with showing your face around town.

We left Russia to come to New York almost a year ago. Since then, I have truly tried to keep to myself because I perform best when I can focus on our empire wholeheartedly. After work, I’ve spent most evenings holed up in my study.

But I’ve hardly had time to myself since Abram got married. I’ve stepped up, and leading a powerful Bratva family comes with the territory of not just managing the business but also keeping a check onallthose around you.

Half our work, according to Abram, is keeping alliances in place. They can, after all, shift anytime. Friends can turn into foes and vice-versa in the blink of an eye.

“Must I really go tonight? It’s a charity gala, for god's sake. Couldn’t I send a generous check on our behalf, instead?”

Abram's eyes narrow. "It's not just about socializing and showing your generosity, Vlad. These events are crucial for our business relationships. The Zolotovs stay relevant only as long as people remember we exist."

"Then send someone else," I snap. "Mark or Denis, perhaps.” I offer up our younger brothers. “I have more important things to do than play nice with a bunch of stuffy elites."

My brother rises from his chair, his imposing frame casting a shadow across the room. "You know that's not an option anymore. We’re fresh blood here and don’t have as many allies as we did back in Russia. We need to present a united front. I can't do this alone."

I feel a twinge of guilt at the weariness in his voice. Our brother has done more than his fair share of sacrifice for our family to succeed. Sometimes, I tend to forget that in my quest for solitude. Besides, I know deep down that Abram is right. Our world has changed, and I can no longer hide in the shadows.

"Fine," I growl. "I'll go to the damn gala. But don't expect me to enjoy it."

Abram's shoulders relax slightly. "That's all I ask, Brother. Who knows, you might even surprise yourself."

I snort, already dreading the evening ahead. I stride out of Abram's office, my jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. The weight of expectation settles on my shoulders like a lead coat. Damn these social obligations. I'm a man of action, not empty words and fake smiles.

But, it is what it is.

***

The weekend arrives too quickly, and I yet again find myself in the backseat of a sleek black car, hurtling toward anywhere but home.

Tonight, it’s Nikolai Orlov’s mansion. The leather seat creaks as I shift, adjusting my tie for the hundredth time.

"You look like you're headed to your own execution," I mutter to myself, running a hand through my hair.

The driver clears his throat. "We're almost there, Mr. Zolotov."

I grunt in acknowledgment, my stomach tightening as the mansion comes into view. It's a behemoth of stone and glass, screaming new money and power—the kind of place that makes me itch for a quick exit, even if it is my sister’s home.

In fact, my cousin Anoushka is also married into the Orlov clan. And still, I haven’t met most of their siblings. I quickly run their names through their head, dreading the fact that I might get them wrong. I already know Nikolai and Dima, with them being my brothers-in-law. But it’s the younger ones, Fedor, Sofia, Natalia, and Artyom whom I’ll have to put a face to.

"Fuck," I breathe, closing my eyes for a moment. "Get it together, Vladimir. It's just a family dinner."

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