Arranged Bratva Love

Aurora

My wrist hurt.

My head hurt.

My back hurt.

Everything fucking hurt. Yet, nothing seemed to be quite as painful as the knowledge that my family and everyone around them didn’t like me.

“Were you respected? Loved? Liked?”

Ivan’s questions played in my head on a mocking repeat. No one liked me. No one even cared about me.

I was given to Slavik and the Volkov Bratva because my father didn’t want to give away the daughter he actually loved.

Tears filled my eyes, and I hated how I felt, the way I was reacting. Tilting my head back, I stared up at the pool room. Sergei had cleared the pool so I could use it. Every other time, I always felt a little embarrassed at the power he used for my comfort. Today, a week after getting the tattoo that aligned me with the Bratva, I needed to do something other than sit in the apartment. Even reading wouldn’t rid my mind of these thoughts. I tried so hard not to let them consume me, but it was next to impossible.

Rubbing at my temple, I took a deep breath, aware of Sergei watching me. He’d been really sweet and kind to me. I didn’t know if that was part of his job description, but I didn’t know how to handle it.

I wasn’t one for a pity party. At least not every single day.

Today, a week after the attack and the questioning from Ivan Volkov himself, the pain of my past just wouldn’t go away. All the memories surrounded me, refusing to leave me be. The way people ignored me, even as a child. When I wanted to play. I was never good enough. Often left to read as the other kids couldn’t stand me.

My mother would tell me to leave the kids alone. If they didn’t want to play with me, then maybe there was something wrong with me.

No matter how kind I was, I wasn’t liked. At parties, I was ignored. No one asked me to dance. I spent most of my time standing in the corner, watching all the fun happening, knowing I was never going to be part of it. The shopping trips. I watched Isabella so often get invited.

I’d be close by, but no one would extend the invitation in my direction. If I asked if I could come, some excuse would be made.

In the end, I stopped trying to be involved.

No one wanted me. No one liked me.

I’d spend hours, staring out of a window, trying to figure out what people hated about me. Why I was so disliked, and even now, I couldn’t figure out a reason.

“Are you okay?” Sergei asked.

“I’m fine.” I wasn’t swimming. The pool wasn’t helping to alleviate my troubles. I’d stopped trying to figure out long ago why people couldn’t stand me and yet here I was, still attempting to find a reason.

I climbed out of the pool, wrapped a towel around my waist, and walked toward the doors.

Sergei was there, and no one else waited to enter the room.

I took a deep breath as we headed toward the elevators, but today, I didn’t want to stand with the doors showing my reflection.

“I’m going to take the stairs.”

“Aurora,” he said.

I stopped at the door and turned toward him.

“You know you can trust me, don’t you?”

“I don’t know you, Sergei.”

“I know you.”

This made me laugh. “No, you don’t. You know what you’re told to know.”

“You can trust me.”

Staring at him, I truly believed he thought that. “I have to go.”

My hand was bound up so no water got to the ink that now stayed on my skin. Removing the plastic cover, I released my hand and took the stairs, heading toward the penthouse suite.

I couldn’t stand heights.

Sergei stayed at my back and knowing he was right behind me didn’t fill me with comfort. I’d noticed the lingering looks he’d been giving me over the past few weeks. They weren’t good. He was a bodyguard.

If Slavik saw him and jumped to the wrong conclusions, we’d both be dead. I didn’t want to be the one responsible for getting a man killed, and Sergei seemed nice.

Entering the apartment, I was stopped as Sergei reached out and grabbed my arm. I froze. He tugged me close and he further surprised me as he pulled me into his arms.

“Sergei, stop,” I said.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I can see that you’re hurting, and I can’t stand to see you in pain, Aurora. Please, let me be your rock.”

He stroked my hair.

This was so wrong.

He shouldn’t be touching me. I needed to get him to stop, but as he held me, at that moment, a wave of emotion struck me hard. Against my better judgment, I held on to him and sobbed.

I didn’t find Sergei attractive.

He was a very good-looking man, but he was a guard. I never made it a habit to fall for a man I could never have. Sergei worked for my husband. This put me in a place I didn’t want to be in.

There was no way I could allow my husband to think anything was going on between us. Sergei was … a friend? I didn’t even know if I could call him that. I never had friends. People didn’t like me.

Was this a ploy to get rid of me? Had Slavik put him up to this so he’d have a reason to kill me?

Fear raced down my spine, and I jerked back. “You shouldn’t have done that. Slavik, if he ever finds out-”

“He won’t,” Sergei said.

“He’s your boss. You can’t hug me or treat me as anything other than work.” I was dressed in a bathing suit and a towel. “You’re a guard.”

“And you think I don’t notice you? You think I haven’t guarded other women and I don’t see the difference?”

My throat felt like it was on fire. “Has … Slavik used you to protect his other … women?”

“I’m not going to say it,” he said.

“Let me guess, they had more of a social life. If you’re bored, I can talk to him. Ask him to arrange for someone else to keep an eye on me.”

“For fuck’s sake, no, that’s not what I’m getting at. What I’m saying, Aurora, is I can see you. I know you’re hurting. You’re right, you’re not like other women. I’m offering to be your friend. The shoulder you cry on.”

“If Slavik heard you, he’d get rid of you. I don’t need friends.”

“Then what do you need?” he asked. “The way I see it, you’re fucking lonely. You have no friends, and your husband comes around to what? To fuck you so you can have his child.”

I physically flinched. “Stay away from me.”

“Damn it, I didn’t mean it like that.”

I’d turned on my heel, intent on putting some distance between us, and now, I whirled around. “You didn’t mean it like that? Then how did you mean it? You were spot on, remember? I have no friends. Slavik is probably out there now with other women, enjoying himself. I’m nothing. I’m no one, but tell me this, Sergei, if you’re such a good friend and you want to be there for me. Tell me what the fuck is wrong with me.”

I didn’t like to curse.

I was normally in control of my emotions, but today, I was all over the place. The ink around my wrist, the attack, the accurate words thrown my way, it was all too much, and there was only so much I could take.

This time, rather than create more distance between us, I advanced toward him. “Tell me, Sergei. Tell me all the great advice about why all my life, people hated me. How I’ve never matched up. How I’ve always been second best in everything. Tell me.”

“Because you’re beautiful,” he said.

Now this made me laugh.

“Wrong.”

With that, I spun on my heel and I left him alone.

A friend would be so fucking welcome, but Sergei wasn’t my friend.

I went straight to the bathroom, stripping naked, and stepped beneath the spray of the water.

Men in our world had mistresses all the time. I had no doubt some of the women enjoyed a lover or two.

I didn’t know where I stood with Slavik.

In the week since the attack, he hadn’t been around. I didn’t know where he was. Some nights he didn’t even come home.

I turned off the shower, wrapping a towel around me, I stepped out of the bathroom, into the bedroom, and gasped.

Slavik stood in the bedroom.

“Wear this. We’re going out to dinner.”

“You scared me.”

“I don’t have all day. Reservations are in thirty minutes.”

“I didn’t know we were going out,” I said.

“Now you do.”

I hadn’t even heard him come home. For several seconds, I just stood there in the bedroom, dressed in a towel. The last place I wanted to go was with him or out in the world. The cuts on my back had mostly healed. Some of the larger wounds had scabbed over, and the pain was no more. I didn’t want to go out, but there was no room for argument.

Drying my body, then my hair, I set about styling it, adding in a few curls, allowing it to fall naturally.

The dress was beautiful, modest. Black with a low front bodice, which would show off my chest, and it fell to the floor, but had slits up either side, giving a hint of thigh.

The arms were also exposed.

I was surprised by how snug the dress fit. I left the bedroom and found Slavik waiting. He held a pair of heels in one hand as he typed on his phone with his other. He didn’t even look up. Not that I should expect him to.

Sergei took the heels and knelt at my feet. After the conversation we’d had, this felt so wrong.

I kept glancing at Slavik, expecting him to explode and kill us both. Sergei wasn’t attracted to me, but I didn’t even know if I was allowed friends. With the heels on, I was ready to face whatever I had to.

Slavik put his cell phone away and stared at me.

No compliments.

He held out his hand, which I had no choice but to take. After Sergei’s confrontation, I felt acutely aware of everything I did with Slavik. This was … wrong. I had no interest in Sergei. He was my guard. A friend would have been nice. Seeing as I spent all day with him, I started to wonder if it would be at all possible to see him as a friend. To enjoy lunches together. To go out shopping.

It was a lame idea.

Neither me nor Slavik talked as we rode the elevator down to the underground parking.

He sat beside me in the car, and Sergei drove us to whatever restaurant we were scheduled to appear. Normally, I could go through these motions, but today, everything felt too tender, too tight. I felt the spiraling sickness in my gut.

Did Slavik know?

“How are you?” Slavik asked, causing me to jump.

“I’m fine. You?” Did I answer too quickly?

“Good.”

The tension in the car mounted.

I wanted to ask about the attack, but I knew it wasn’t my place. A woman’s place in this world was to be seen when he wanted you to be seen. Or in my place, to stay hidden for as long as possible.

I felt … sick.

“Er, how was your day?” I asked.

“Productive.”

This time, I chanced a glance at him. His gaze was on me, and I quickly averted mine. This man was my husband, and the truth was he was a stranger to me.

“That’s good,” I said.

“You?”

“I … went to the pool.” I didn’t dare look toward Sergei.

Nothing happened. I had to get that through my thick skull. All Sergei did was offer me friendship. There was no crime in that, even if it did feel wrong. Why did it make me nervous? Was I so used to not having friends, I pushed people away?

The car came to a stop outside a very nice-looking restaurant. I didn’t recognize the name. Slavik opened the door, giving Sergei instructions.

I followed my husband out, taking the hand that was offered, but he let me go, wrapping an arm around my waist. I wasn’t entirely sure if I wanted him to hold me like this. Like the good woman I’d been trained to be, I didn’t pull away, even though I was tempted with every fiber of my being.

We entered the restaurant and after one look at my husband, the maitre d’ escorted us to our table.

Slavik held out my chair and I sat down.

A quick glance around the room and I saw people were looking our way. Slavik had a way about him that commanded attention the instant he entered a room.

With my hands in my lap, tightly clenched together, I waited for him to order the wine, and he did. Then he asked for the menus to be brought to us at once.

All this time, I didn’t say a word. These dates, if they could even be called that, were always trying. The truth was I had no idea what to say to him.

We were so different. In age. In our likes. He was a stone-cold killer and I had no place.

Silence fell between us.

Slavik like always, held his cell phone, typing away.

Other couples were looking at each other, swooning. Or at the very least with lust. What did I get? Sat at a table, pretty much ignored. Slavik refused to give me the time for strained conversation.

Time ticked by, and along with it, my patience.

All my life, I’d been told to be quiet, to not make waves. I was nearly killed a week ago, and I’d followed all the rules. Not once had it helped me.

Sitting up, I put my arms on the table and looked at my husband. “Did you talk to my father?” I asked.

I must have taken Slavik by surprise because he finally looked up.

Silence.

I would not look away. This time, in a restaurant, we would at the very least pretend to want to be around each other.

Not that I should care. I was already a mockery wherever I went. For some reason, I felt rebellious tonight. Like I wanted him to notice me. Sergei had terrified me, to be frank. The only person offering to be my friend was the one person who could get killed for being so.

“I don’t talk business,” he said.

“Then what would you like to talk about?” I asked.

“What is this?”

“You drag me out of your home. Dress me up. Sit me here, for appearances’ sake. Am I right?”

He didn’t say anything.

“Then we sit here and you make me a complete laughing stock because you cannot even give your wife the time of day. You’re always attached to your phone. Are you, like, addicted to social media? You do the endless scrolling?” I needed to shut up. Clearly when I was attacked, something went wrong inside my brain because my lips kept on working when they should stay shut.

“Are you on social media?”

“No,” I said. I wasn’t allowed an account. My sister had been until she did the stupid thing of taking a selfie at a private party. Guess who got the punishment for that, little old me. Daddy didn’t like to punish his sweet girl. “Just because I don’t have an account doesn’t mean I don’t understand it. I don’t know you or what you do, but I can guess. If you don’t want to talk shop, fine. Just don’t ignore me. I’d rather eat at home if that’s what you want. I’m sure you have a lot more to do other than this.”

“Women like being taken out to dinner.”

“This woman likes to be acknowledged as actually existing. You’ve ignored me all week.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“With work you won’t talk about.” I shrugged. “We’re running around in circles right now.”

The waiter came, and I stopped, taking a deep breath. What the hell was wrong with me?This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Excuse me.”

I got to my feet, ignoring my husband, and walked to the ladies’ room. Entering, I saw there was no one there. I had no need for the toilet, so I went straight to the sink.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” I kept my head down. The last thing I wanted to do was look in a mirror. What I’d see looking back at me scared me.

I was going to get myself killed if I kept this up.

My face felt incredibly hot, but with the small amount of makeup I’d put on, there was no way I could splash my face.

After running my wrists beneath the cold tap, I reached out for a towel when my arm was grabbed and I spun around. Slavik was in the ladies’ room. He pressed me up against the bathroom counter.

I nibbled on my lip and tried to get as far as I could with the counter stopping me. There was nowhere for me to go.

“What is your problem?” he asked.

“I don’t have one. I don’t see a point in being here wasting our time if we’re not even going to have a civil conversation.” Why would I even want to have Slavik talking to me? The man was scary.

He made grown men afraid.

Here I was offering up a conversation with a man whose expertise was death.

“You’ve never seemed to mind before.”

“I always minded. Once or twice was fine, but we’ve been doing this same dance for far too long and I’m bored of it.”

In the back of my mind, I literally screamed for myself to shut the fuck up. Whatever I was doing, or thought I was doing, was going to get me killed.

“You’re bored.”

“You can’t tell me you’re excited about eating dinner with me when you’re checking your cell phone every two minutes.”

He didn’t say anything.

His body pressed against mine, and not for the first time, I became very aware of him as a man.