Page 71 of Used Bratva Bride

I think about the way he looks at me. The way his touch burns, the way his presence consumes the air around him.

The way he kissed me roughly on our wedding night. The way he held me down, made me his.

A shiver runs down my spine.

Sophia’s voice snaps me back to reality. “Once we finish this job, I’ll get you out of there.” She tilts her head, studying me.

“This is your chance, Julie,” she says, her voice quieter now, almost coaxing. “You can prove your worth. To us.”

To them. To the family that has overlooked me my entire life.

I bite my lip, forcing down the doubt clawing at my insides. I should be thrilled. I should feel relieved that she’s giving me a way out.

Mikhail is ruthless. He’s the Bratva’s leader. He would never hesitate to kill if he found out I had betrayed him.

Still, Sophia is right. He’s already made his move against us.

This is the only way to win. I nod, the motion feeling stiff, foreign.

Sophia’s lips curl into a small smile. “Good girl.” She presses the phone deeper into my palm. “Keep this. Use it wisely.”

I stare at it, willing myself to believe I’m making the right decision.

“Go now,” Sophia urges, glancing toward the door.

My heart hammers as I slip the phone into the folds of my dress.

I take a deep breath, then turn and exit the restroom without another word.

***

The ride back is silent.

The driver doesn’t speak, and I keep my head turned toward the window, watching the city blur past.

The phone in my pocket feels like a ticking time bomb.

When we pull into the long, gated driveway of Mikhail’s estate, I feel the weight settle deeper in my stomach.

It’s strange—walking back into this place, this home that was never meant to be mine, and yet somehow, I’ve started to know its every detail. The way the grand hall echoes when it’s empty. The warmth of the kitchen when the maids preparemeals. The cold luxury of the master bedroom where I wake up tangled in silk sheets that still smell like him.

I close my eyes. It’s only a matter of time before I have to make my next move.

I have to find out about the Greg Evans deal. But Mikhail is always watching me.

How the hell am I supposed to get anything out of him without raising suspicion?

As I step inside, I barely make it two steps before a familiar, commanding voice stops me in my tracks.

“You’re back.”

I turn slowly.

Mikhail leans against the grand staircase, his gaze dark and unreadable. His suit jacket is off, the top buttons of his dress shirt undone. He looks impossibly intimidating, yet effortlessly powerful, as always.

The way his piercing eyes rake over me makes my stomach tighten.

“Is the kitten alive?” he asks flatly.

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