Page 15 of Forced By the Bratva King
“What’re you gonna do to me?” I managed to ask in almost a whisper.
“We’ve gone this road before,” he said, his eyes trailing my body.
I gasped when he pulled me tightly to himself.
“I’ll do whatever I want.” His hand traveled along my figure.
I battered my lashes in an attempt to slow down my racing heart. His touch was weakening me, breaking down my defenses and leaving me vulnerable.
He smirked at my reaction and slipped a hand to the back of my neck. Clutching a handful of my hair, he pulled on it, jerking my head in the process. “You're inmyhouse, which means you’re atmymercy,” he said, looking right at me. “And I don’t like people snooping around my house, especially in the dead of night. Do you understand?”
I didn’t let him finish his question before nodding rapidly.
“Good.” He let go of my hair, but his eyes still lingered on me.
I stood there, unable to move for fear of angering him further.
“Go back to your room,” he instructed, and although his voice was calm, I knew he wasn’t someone I’d like to disobey. “I can guarantee you that what will happen next will be awful if you stand before me a second longer,” he added.
Without second thoughts, I took off running, and despite the darkness in the house, I found my way back to the room. I got inside and slammed the door shut behind me, feeling the weight of the mess I’d gotten myself into.
With my back against the door, I let myself slide all the way down to the floor, where I threw my hands into my hair and wept over my current situation.
I’m fucked.
Chapter 6 – Artem
Onyx Den: a discreet member-only club attended by a few like-minded individuals, high-rollers in society looking to secure deals and have a good time away from the eyes of the public.
The room was dimly lit, and soft classical music came from a live band in a corner. Their lead singer, a pretty woman with slightly tanned skin and way too much red lipstick, had a marvelous voice that caught almost everyone’s attention, especially Kostya’s.
He was seated by my side at a table, relaxed on a plush sofa, his light blue eyes fixed on the performer whose gloved fingers swayed in the air as she moved her body slowly to the rhythm of the music. Engrossed, Kostya’s admiration for the woman’s voice was glaring in his gaze. With the way he was looking at her, I wouldn’t be surprised if he fucked her tonight.
My younger brother had always been a charming, fine man who loved the company of women and vice versa. He was handsome and tall and had a masculine physique that blended perfectly with his witty and humorous nature. It was no wonder women easily fell for his charms. Like a moth to a flame, most of them were drawn to him.
He stroked his jaw, casting a flirty grin at the singer, who was already stealing subtle glances at him. While performing, she would look at him and smile, then look away again.
Knowing my brother, he was definitely going to go after her before the night ended. She would fall and follow him home. That was a fact. Kostya always enjoyed women, but he never really allowed himself to bond deeply with them.
“He’s gonna fuck her—especially if she keeps looking at him like that,” Yuri leaned over and whispered into my ear. He was with us at the table.
“I heard that,” Kostya said without taking his eyes off the singer.
Yuri adjusted his tie and laughed lightly while I gave a faint grin. I admired Kostya for his ability to balance his dual personality. As charming and funny as my brother was, he was also just as deadly, cruel, and ruthless when need be. He was the type of man who would send his enemies to hell with a fucking smile on his face. Everyone in the criminal underworld knew not to mistake his charms for weakness. He’d set the record straight when he killed a man in cold blood at a gathering like this years ago. Why?
Kostya had made a funny joke, but the man, being all too serious, called him a clown, saying this wasn’t what the Tarasov Bratva boss was known for. My brother, still smiling, said he would show him how a Tarasov Bratva boss handled situations like that. The man had barely opened his mouth to speak when Kostya picked up a fork from the table and stabbed him right under his chin. The man’s eyes widened with a gasp and a slightly dropped jaw that revealed the tines of the fork in his mouth.
Kostya’s action that evening had sent a message that he wasn’t to be messed with, regardless of how humorous he could be at times.
Meanwhile, a round of applause filled the room as the woman finished her performance and headed to her seat.
Kostya watched her take her place at a table, and when their eyes met, he winked at her.
“Pakhan,” Yuri called me quietly.
I recognized that tone, and I knew whatever he had to tell me was most likely going to upset me. I faced him. “What is it?”
He nodded toward the entrance, and I traced his gaze to the man walking into the room, surrounded by his armed men. His white hair shimmered under the soft glow of the chandeliershung from the ceiling, while his tailored black suit and polished shoes were an impeccable match, exuding confidence, wealth, and power.