Page 12 of Bound to the Bratva
The driver gets out of the car and opens the door for us. My father exits first and I'm right behind him. As I step foot on the sidewalk I adjust my tie slightly and he swallows hard. "Well, here we are."
The front door is about fifteen feet tall and is made of iron and glass. I'll bet anything that the iron is one of a kind.
Someone from the Zuyev family's staff comes to greet us as we head up the stairwell to the front door.
He pushes the vast door open, "Welcome to the Zuyev family home, Mr. Volkolv," he says, bowing ever so slightly. "Please, allow me to escort you and your father to the drawing room where the family is waiting."
The foyer is grand, with a marble staircase that ascends to the upper floors, and walls adorned with intricate tapestries. A butler stands at attention near the entrance, his rigid posture a testament to the formalities that await me.
I nod in acknowledgment and follow him through the vast hallways, taking in the opulence that surrounds me. The Zuyevs are clearly a wealthy and influential family. I didn't realize how much wealth they had, and things are becoming a bit more clear.
Could their wealth have something to do with this arranged marriage? I wonder how Aria fits into all of this, how her life has been shaped by her father's power and expectations.
As we enter the drawing room, I find myself momentarily stunned by the beauty of the space. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a breathtaking view of the city streets, and plush velvet furniture invites guests to sink into its luxurious embrace. The room is filled with soft classical music playing in the background, adding to the refined ambiance. Aria might be a bastard child, but her father is very clearly a man of luxury. He oversees Chicago and I've heard good things about the way he's handled things.
Seated at one end of a long mahogany table are Mr. and Mrs. Zuyev. Mr. Zuyev is an imposing figure, his sharp features exuding authority and control. Mrs. Zuyev, on the other hand, looks like she spends far too much time in Beverly Hills plastic surgeon's offices. She's one of the women who want to encapsulate their youth, even as the years continue to pass.
And then there's Aria.
She sits beside her father, her demeanor undeniably frustrated. Her eyes meet mine and while I should expect a soft smile, or something receptive, I'm only met with anger.
Aria's ice gray eyes narrow as they lock with mine, her gaze filled with a fiery intensity that I haven't seen a woman have before. Any woman I've graced attention with has always been happy. However, not Aria. Her lips curl into a disdainful sneer. The tension in the room becomes palpable, and I instinctively clench my fists, knowing there will be a confrontation that follows.
"I'd like to start this off by saying I do not want to do this," Aria's voice cuts through the silence like a blade. "I'm a victim of my father's desires, and they're holding my mother captive so I obey their orders. If you both find this acceptable, then I know neither of you are a man, you're foolish boys." Her words are laced with bitterness, dripping with resentment.
My father cracks up, finding her outburst hysterical. "Little did I know your daughter would be venomous like you, Nikolai."
"She has my spirit, that's for certain." Her father responds.
"Aria, cut it out. You'd hate for your mother to get hurt, wouldn't you?" Her stepmother threatens.
"I'm not some fragile pawn to be moved around at your will." She snaps at her stepmother.
"That's where you're wrong. You're a daughter born into the Bratva. You're their pawn right now, and then you'll become mine. A piece on the chess board to move however I want." I keep my eyes pinned on hers, and anger radiates from her body.
She's never expected this to happen to her, and it only means I'm going to have so much more fun.
"If I have to marry you to keep my mother safe, I will, but don't think for one fucking minute that I'll do it willingly. I'll make you hate being married to me." There it is, that venom in her eyes. Mmm, I kind of like it. Marrying her won't be boring and painful like I originally thought. It might actually be entertaining.
My father shifts uncomfortably in his seat beside me, clearly taken aback by Aria's brazen hostility. Mr. Zuyev raises an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes as he observes the brewing storm between his daughter and me.
"I can assure you, Aria," I say evenly, my voice betraying none of the anger that threatens to consume me. "You won't be the royal pain in my ass you're so desperate to be. You'll be entertaining me with every outburst you have. It's not easy to get a rise out of me, little girl."
Her gaze does not waver as she studies me, her sharp intellect undoubtedly analyzing my words for any hint of deception. There is a fleeting moment when I catch a glimpse of vulnerability behind her icy facade before it disappears like a flickering flame.
"No matter what you say," she retorts defiantly, her voice cutting through the tension in the room like a knife. "I will not be confined to the role of a docile wife, or an obedient daughter," Aria glares at her father with all of her might, and then her stepmother. "You two are vile people for putting me through this. Threatening me with my own mother's life. How can you live with yourselves?" Her voice wavers and anger-fueled tears threaten to fall.
"Playing devil's advocate here, I would have done the same thing. They took the most precious thing in your life and used it as leverage. It's smart," I speak up.
Aria's eyes blaze with fury as she turns her gaze toward me, her tears transforming into a fiery determination. "Smart?" she scoffs. "You think it's smart to manipulate and control someone you claim to love? How pathetic. You have no idea what love even means!"
I lean back in my chair, studying her intently. There is an unyielding strength within her, a spirit that refuses to be broken despite the circumstances. Aria is not like any other woman I've encountered before...and I like that. I like that she's testing me.
"And do you?" I challenge her, my voice low and dangerous. "Do you know what love means?"
Her lips curl into a bitter smile, devoid of any semblance of warmth. "Love is not about dominance or control," she retorts. "It's about trust, respect, and mutual understanding. Something you and your family clearly lack."
The room falls silent as her words hang in the air, each person digesting the impact of what she just said. Aria's defiance has shifted the dynamics of this meeting, transforming it into something far more volatile than any of us could have anticipated.
