Page 55 of An Arranged Virgin for the Bratva

“It reminds me of ice,” I smile down at her. “A little bit like you, until one gets to know you.”

And then, I reach out and unwrap the largest box, pulling out the softest fur coat. I lean over while she stands there, frozen like a deer in the headlights, and place it around her shoulders. “This coat reminded me of the real you. Not the ice, not the cold. It’s soft and cozy, warm like your soul.”

Silence stretches on before us, my heart hammering in my chest. She looks unimpressed, and I’m beginning to fear thismight have been overkill. But still, a voice in my head fights back for me.I did the best I could. She deserves the best I could.

Sofia's eyes narrow, cutting through the carefully crafted atmosphere I've created.

"Is this what you think I want? Pretty trinkets and expensive dinners?" She gestures around the opulent cabin with a sharp wave of her hand. "You can't buy your way back into my good graces, Vlad."

I feel my chest tighten at her words, the sting of rejection hitting harder than I'd anticipated. "Sofia, that's not—"

"Not what?" she interrupts, her voice dripping with icy sarcasm. "Not an attempt to manipulate me? To make me forget everything that's happened?"

I step back from her, my hands suddenly feeling empty and useless. "I just wanted to show you that I care," I say, hating how vulnerable I sound.

Sofia's laugh is bitter, cutting through me like a knife. "Care? You have a funny way of showing it, considering how you haven’t called once since I left. You were too busy then to explain, and I’m sorry if I can’t forgive you according to your schedule!"

I run a hand through my hair, frustration and fear warring inside me. The thought of losing her for good makes my stomach churn. If I don’t get this right, it could be the end.

So, with everything I have, I cast aside all my fears, my doubts, and my pretenses, and lay out the desperate truth—no matter how pathetic it might seem.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what I'm about to say. "The truth is, I didn't contact you after you left because I was ashamed," I confess, my voice barely above a whisper. "Iknew I fucked up and wanted to prove myself worthy of you first. To show you that you and your dreams and your hopes and your entire existence are anything but a game to me."

Sofia's eyebrows raise slightly, a crack in the walls she has up. "Worthy? You're Vladimir Zolotov. Since when do you need to prove yourself to anyone?"

I lean forward, my elbows on my knees, hands clasped tightly. "Since I realized how terribly I hurt you. How much I'd taken for granted." My eyes never leave hers as I continue, "I couldn't bear to approach you half-heartedly. I needed to be sure I put in all the effort I could. I wanted this…” I motion at the plane, “…to be perfect.”

I watch as Sofia processes my words, her green eyes flickering with conflicting emotions. Her fingers twitch in front of her as she holds her hands together, as if she's fighting the urge to reach out.

I continue, needing to express my feelings. "I don't know who I am without you, Sofia. But I know I can't stay away any longer. Every day without you has been… unbearable."

Sofia's breath catches, and I see a flash of vulnerability in her eyes before she looks away, her jaw clenching. "That doesn't erase what happened," she murmurs, but there's less ice in her tone now.

"I know," I reply, resisting the urge to take her hand. "But I'm hoping it's a start. A chance to make things right."

Chapter 20 - Sofia

I stare at Vlad, my skin burning with a mix of confusion, anger, and yearning. If only we could make things right. If only we could go back to the past.

But it seems like something out of a novel, where he’s been working against me from the onset.

"How can we possibly make this right?" I ask, trying to keep the pain away from my voice. "When your plan all along was to marry me to control me and my mission with the Crimson Crew? To prevent me from taking care of my family?" My voice cracks at the end, every vulnerability laid bare, the betrayal I feel seeping into the air.

Vlad's dark eyes widen, a flicker of hurt passing across his chiseled features. I press on, relentless.

"I saw the photos, Vlad. It was by accident that I found them in your desk. The surveillance you had on me before we ever got married—from the day after our family party. Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

My hands clench at my sides, nails digging into my palms. I want to lash out, to make him feel as trapped and betrayed as I do. But I maintain my composure, my face a mask of cool disdain. He’s lost the privilege of learning what I feel.

Vlad takes a deep breath, his broad shoulders rising and falling. When he speaks, his voice is low, almost pleading.

"Sofia, you've misunderstood. Those photos… they were only taken that once. I just needed a record of those thugs, should they ever harm you. My intention was not to work against you.”

I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. "Oh, please. You expect me to believe that? You, Vladimir Zolotov, spied on me just one time?"

He takes a step toward me, and I instinctively step back. The hurt in his eyes deepens, but I can't bring myself to care. I've spent too long building these walls to let them crumble now.

"It's the truth," he insists. "I would never—"

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