Page 2 of Sold to the Bratva
“You can’t expect me to stay locked in the house like a damn prisoner all the time,” I say, still pushing.
“It looks like that’s exactly what I should expect. You were seconds away from tarnishing something very valuable,” he says coldly. “Something that is not yours to ruin.”
There’s that word he loves to dangle whenever my virginity comes up. Valuable. As though I’m a rare gem or a vintage car kept showroom-perfect for resale. Not a person with wants and feelings. Not his daughter. No, like everything else in his world, I’m a bargaining chip. He’s kept me on lockdown so he can auction me off to some oligarch and pocket the highest possible price.
I fold my arms over my chest. “Nice to know I’m still the family’s most treasured antique.”
His eyes flash with anger. “You’ve been protected,” he says in the same warning tone he always uses when the subject comes up.
“Caged,” I shoot back.
“Kept pure,” he argues.
“Kept,period,” I growl. “Don’t dress it up like a fairytale. I know what I am in this world. I’ve known since I was fifteen.”
“And yet you keep testing me.”
I shrug. “It’s the only thrill I’m allowed.”
He rises, smooth and unhurried, like a storm forming just offshore.
“Do you want to explain what would have happened if I hadn’t been home tonight?”
“I wasn’t going to sleep with him,” I say, deflated, even though I know he’ll never believe it’s true.
“You were close,” he seethes, his anger, as always, right at the surface.
“I know the rules, Papa,” I remind him, my voice cutting. “You’ve trained me well.”
Oleg lets out a low whistle and takes another sip of his drink. “She’s got your spine, Viktor. And your mouth.”
“Ignore him,” my father says, his voice clipped.
“Oh, trust me,” I mutter under my breath, so neither of them can hear me, “I always do.”
The silence stretches, the air between us thick with something old and bitter. The truth is, I’ve been toeing the line for years. Every night out, every flirtation, every half-dressed rebellion, I’ve known exactly how far I can go. Close enough to feel free, but careful enough not to destroy the one thing that makes me “valuable.”
It’s pathetic, really, and it’s always been the core of our conflict. He’s always planned to use me as the perfect, obedient bride served up on a platter to some associate to gain a business advantage, and I’ve always resented him for it. I wasn’t raised to fall in love. I was raised to be virginal until I was sold to the most advantageous partner.
But I still hoped, deep down, that one day he might change his mind, that he’d let me belong to myself. Tonight proves, more than ever, that he never will.
Oleg leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his voice syrupy and smug.
“Well,” he says, “I suppose now is as good a time as any to fill your daughter in on what we’ve just agreed to.”
My stomach drops.
“What is that exactly?” I ask suspiciously, looking between them.
Oleg leans back like he’s settling into his throne, smug satisfaction etched into every line of his face. I hate the way he watches me, like I’m not a person but a piece of currency exchanging hands. My gaze flicks to my father, expecting, hoping, for some kind of correction. Some hint that this is a joke. But father just nods at me, slowly, like this is something I’m supposed to just accept.
“Sit down, Katya.”
I don’t move.
My heart is thudding in my chest, each beat louder than the last.
“No.” I shake my head. “Not until you explain what the hell is going on.”
