Owned By The Bratva King: A Bratva Captive Romance

by Cole, Jagger

  “In the future,” he growls deeply. “You will obey me.”

  I swallow thickly. I nod my head. “Yeah.”

  His eyes narrow. I blush deeper.

  “Yes, sir,” I whisper. I gasp as he leans down to me, his lips by my ears.

  “Good girl,” he purrs thickly.

  I step back as he pulls the door shut. His eyes hold mine until it shuts between us. Then I hear it lock, followed by his footsteps moving away. My breath comes out in a whoosh, like I’ve been holding it ever since I stepped out onto that upper deck for dinner.

  My pulse is pounding. My mind is whirling in out of control circles. I’m terrified, and confused, and so very fucking wet.

  4

  Yuri

  I need a cage. I need strong rope, binding me fast to this room so that I may not leave. So that I don’t rush back to hers, break down her door, and have her every which way a man can claim a woman.

  I need to be locked in here. Guarded, kept at gunpoint from her. Because I made a mistake. I miscalculated. I thought of myself as stronger than this.

  I was wrong.

  Tonight, I played games I had no business playing. Tonight, was playing with fire, or live dynamite. The point of her being here is to make her my pawn—to have her play the role I need her to play when I destroy Semyon.

  I can lie to myself all I want. I can tell myself that having her strip for me was a power move—a way to show her I hold the reins here. But I know what that really was. That was me losing control. That was me wanting her. And that’s dangerous. A king uses the pawn, and sacrifices the pawn, in order to win the game.

  A king doesn’t desire the pawn. A king doesn’t barely keep control of spreading the pawn’s legs and burying his cock in the pawn’s sweet little cunt.

  I can make excuses. Yes, River Finn is one of the most stunningly beautiful, gorgeous young models on the planet. She’s on magazine covers and strutting down the runway of the Vanessa’s Dream lingerie fashion show wearing lace and silk.

  She has the face of an angel and a body built for sin. Her very career is based on her ability to make men desire her and women want to be her. I can tell myself that that is why I’m finding my control wavering. But those are merely excuses. Those are symptoms of a bigger problem.

  I’m a powerful man. I’m wealthy. I’m at the top of one of the most influential, connected, and ruthless bratva families in Moscow. Young, pretty things batting their eyes or throwing themselves at me is not anything new to me.

  And yet I have not indulged myself with women in almost six years. I simply do not have the time, the interest, or the bandwidth to do so. My throne and continuing the reign of a bratva empire that has lived through two world wars, a revolution, and the overthrow of both a monarchy and an entire political system comes first.

  But that resolve has been shaken twice now in the last six months. The first time was the dinner in Chicago with my daughter Belle, her fiancé Nikolai, and River.

  The second was tonight. And it’s quite clear what the underlying common theme is with both of those instances.

  I groan as I step out onto the private porch off my bedroom. I grit my teeth, feeling my pulse thud and my desire for her surges. My cock strains against the front of my suit pants, and I grip the railing tightly. I look out over the dark Black Sea and breathe slowly.

  I can’t want her like this. For one, I’m more than twice her goddamn age. I’m forty-five, she’s… what, twenty? Twenty-one? I groan as I bite my lip. There are men far older than me with the similar means, power, and wealth with girls even younger than her on their arms. But I am not those men. And I don’t desire “arm candy” to make me look or feel like a bigger man.

  But I do desire her. Voraciously.

  I hiss as I look away over the dark waves below. There’s also my daughter, Belle, to think about, whose life I’ve barely just stepped into for the first time. And here I am lusting after her best friend, who is currently a prisoner on my yacht.

  This isn’t “going to be” a problem. This is a problem. I can’t want her like this. I can’t desire to take her, and to claim her as my own. For all of those other reasons, but also for the very reason she’s here at all: to destroy my enemy.

  The power that my having her has over Semyon is the threat of me “taking her for myself.” He wants her for her beauty, but also for her innocence. Which might be disgusting and barbaric in a way. But my world does move in disgusting and barbaric ways, like it or not.

  If Semyon fears I’ll claim her myself, he’s my puppet on a string. If I actually do claim her myself, that power goes away.

  I turn and spy the bottle of scotch on the bar cart back in my bedroom. But suddenly, my private cellphone rings in my pocket. I pull it out and smile thinly. Speak of the devil. I was wondering when the news would finally reach my asshole rival’s ears.

  “Sukin syn!” Semyon screams when I answer the call. You son of a bitch!

  I grin. “Good evening, old friend.”

  “Don’t old friend me, you piece of shit!” he rages. “You son of a whore—”

  “That’s enough,” I snarl. I’m oddly in no mood to hear him bleat and whine. “You know what I have, don’t you, Semyon?” I hiss quietly.

  “She was mine, Yuri!”

  I shrug. “Boris’s business was mine.”

  Semyon laughs thinly. “You fuck, is that what this is? Petty revenge—”

  “Yes.”

  He goes quiet for a second before he clears his throat.

  “Give her to me, Yuri. I’m warning—”

  “Nyet, porosenka,” I snarl. No, little piggy.

  Semyon hisses out a string of swears and curses at me. I merely smile as I wait for him to finish. When he’s done, I hear him wheezing and breathing heavily for a moment. Then he clears his throat.

  “Okay, fine. You can have Boris’s business, okay?”

  I laugh, loudly. “You are pathetic, Semyon! So quickly? Just like that, you cave?”

  “Do you want it or not?!” he snaps.

  My lips curl into a savage smile. “Da, I do want it. But it was already mine.”

  “Fuck you, Yuri—”

  “Manners, Semyon,” I growl quietly. “Let’s not forget what—who—I have in my possession.”

  His breath catches.

  “What the fuck do you want—”

  “More, Semyon,” I hiss. “I want so much more. You want the girl, and I want more.”

  I can hear him seething on the other end of the line. And I know I’ve got him exactly where I want him.

  “Yuri, you piece of shit—”

  “I read the news, Semyon. I even read the celebrity gossip bullshit.” I smile. “I’m guessing you do as well?”

  His breath catches audibly. I grin.

  “You pathetic little man. I know why you want her. A beautiful girl like that… and a virgin?”

  Semyon swears quietly.

  “That’s what it takes for you to feel like a big man, Semyon?”

  “She’s mine, Yuri! She will give herself to me!”

  I laugh coldly. “Give? Is that what you call that?”

  “I’m a man of means!” he fumes. “Of class!”

  I roll my eyes. “You’re a troll.”

  “Fuck you!” he roars. “Fuck you, Yuri! Fuck your mother in the—”

  “Shut up,” I snarl savagely. My rival goes quiet.

  “You’ll give me what I want, Semyon. Or I will take all of what you want.”

  He’s silent for a second, trying to chew on that.

  “What are you say—”

  “You know damn well what I’m saying,” I growl quietly. “Just her and I, all alone on my boat…”

  “Fuck you!”

  I smile. “Who knows the things she’ll do for me? The things she’ll let me do to her?”

  Semyon is bellowing like a stuck pig on the other end of the call.

  “Who knows the ways she’ll submit to me, my old friend,�
�� I snarl.

  “I’ll fucking kill you, Yuri!”

  I shrug. “I’ve already undressed her.”

  I smile when I hear him choke. He goes quiet, and I know I have his attention. I know I’ve got him wrapped around my goddamn finger now.

  “Listen to me very carefully, Semyon,” I growl. “You’ll give me exactly what I want, or I’ll have her much more than just naked for me.” I smile thinly. “I’ll have her begging for it.”

  I hang up abruptly. I turn, inhaling the salty air of the sea as I gaze out at the black waves. I don’t relish this. I really don’t. I don’t enjoy the threats involving River that I’ve just thrown at Semyon. I am not that sort of man, to do that to a woman. But I’m playing a part, as we all must do.

  With a final deep breath, I turn and walk back into my quarters. I pour a heavy splash of scotch and head into the office off of my bedroom. I open the laptop on my desk and click over to the video feed from the hidden camera in her room.

  I grin. She’s apparently decided to finally explore the vast array of clothes I have for her in the closet in her quarters. She’s decided to ignore the drawers and drawers of expensive lingerie, opting instead for sleep shorts and a tank-top.

  The problem is, this girl could dress in mud and a burlap sack and still be the sexiest women on earth.

  I watch her pace the room, and my cock grows thicker. I switch cameras, watching as she brushes her teeth and washes her face. I flip back when she heads back to the bedroom and pads over to the big bed. She slips under the covers, frowning and tossing and turning. She reaches over and turns the lights off. My cameras switch to night vision.

  I watch her toss and turn. I feel my pulse thud as she squirms under the covers. Her hands push under, and I groan, feeling a spark of lust. But that isn’t what she’s doing. Or perhaps she was and decided against it.

  Instead, she sighs deeply and drops her hands heavily back on top of the covers. I keep watching as she squirms some more. Her eyes close. Slowly, her breathing becomes regular.

  But still, I watch her sleep. And I wonder if she’s dreaming of my eyes on her; my hands.

  My mouth.

  I groan as I slam the laptop shut and clench my eyes shut. I must be strong. This is business, not pleasure. This is a power move, not a seduction. In this world, and in this game, I am King, and she is a pawn.

  Three scotches later and the laptop’s back open, I’m still repeating that to myself.

  5

  River

  The sun teases over my bare arms as I step out onto the main deck. A gentle wind dances the fabric of the gorgeous sundress around my legs as I look out over the stunning blue sea.

  I’ve caved. Or I’ve swallowed my pride. Whatever you want to call it, I’ve finally explored the huge walk-in closet off of my bedroom. I’ve been around fashion for almost half my life, and even I’m impressed by what I saw in there. Private collection pieces from the world’s top designers. Hints at lines that won’t even be out for another year.

  I mean the sundress I finally picked out is an Oscar De La Renta, but from a line I’ve never even heard of. And I’m literally a De La Renta ambassador model.

  My sandals? Valentino. The silver-link necklace I just couldn’t say no to because it was insane how well it complimented the sundress? Van Cleef & Arpels, vintage. And then there’s the… unmentionables that I’m wearing under the sundress. The absolutely gorgeous rose-pink, lace thong and matching demi; both from Aleksandra Josef, one of the most exclusive lingerie designers in Paris.

  Yes, I could have kept digging my heals in. When Maksim just knocked on the door of my quarters and told me breakfast was ready and my presence was requested, I could have said fuck no. Or if it was insisted that I come, I could have worn a bedsheet or something.

  And yet, I caved. Or maybe I just felt like meeting Yuri again on my own terms, dressed how I want. I mean if I’m going to be a captive on this fucking boat, I may as well look nice.

  But I frown when I see the empty breakfast table by the balcony overlooking the main deck.

  “Where—”

  I turn quizzically to Maksim. But he just nods with his chin past the railing before he turns and exits the private deck. My brow furrows as I walk over. But then my breath catches when I see what I see.

  At first I think it must be someone else. But when the man with the muscled and tattooed arms and shoulders swims perfectly to the edge of the pool and effortlessly pulls himself out of the water, my jaw drops.

  The man built like a Greek god is Yuri.

  The silver at his temples might show his age—somewhere just north of forty if I remember from Belle telling me. But the rest of him might as well belong to a twenty-five-year-old. He grabs a towel from a pool lounger and half turns as he dries himself. Water trickles down his perfectly grooved chest and abs.

  I just stare at him like a horny teenager. That is, until he turns. His sharp blue eyes slide up the railing I’m leaning against. When they spot me, I blush and quickly look away. But not before I see the smirk on his gorgeous face.

  I turn and quickly move back to the breakfast table. I pretend to busy myself with the carafe of coffee and a mug. But a second later, he appears at the top of the curved staircase that leads up from the pool deck—wearing nothing but a small, well-fitted black swim shorts looking like a fucking Armani model.

  “The coffee is strong,” Yuri growls as he slinks towards me. He sits in the chair across from me, and I finally look up at him. Instantly, I blush.

  I’ve been on hundreds of photoshoots with plenty of very handsome, fit male models. And yet, none of them have ever tripped me up like this. None of them have made my heart skip and my words fail me. Maybe it’s that Yuri isn’t the typical pompous male model—or a model at all. It’s just that he’s naturally stupidly handsome and built like pure sex.

  I swallow, blushing as my eyes sweep over his perfectly chiseled chest muscles and sculpted shoulders and arms. They’re covered in tattoos that even I recognize as Russian mafia ink—reminding me that this is no “pretty man” I’m about to have breakfast with. This man is flat out dangerous. Not just a vicious criminal, either. The king of an empire of vicious criminals.

  He pours some coffee and takes a slice of toast from a gilded platter. I shake my head. How the fuck does a man who looks like him eat carbs?

  I opt for some fruit with my coffee. But we sit in silence for what must be five full minutes before I can’t stand it anymore. With a heavy sigh, I put my coffee cup down and raise my eyes to him.

  “Why am I here?” I ask sharply.

  Yuri’s simply been looking out over the sea. He takes a sip of his coffee before his eyes slide to mine. He smirks thinly.

  I sigh again. “Why am I here, sir?” I say dryly.

  He smiles. “Because you’re my guest.”

  “Very fucking funny.”

  He shrugs and takes another sip of his coffee.

  “The men who took me… there were other men…”

  “Who would have taken you,” he grunts.

  “Your men killed them.”

  “Yes.” He smiles again. He finishes his coffee and then stands. “You are welcome, by the way.”

  He turns to walk away. I bark a laugh.

  “Sorry, is this where I’m supposed to thank you for kidnapping me?!” I snap.

  Yuri frowns as he turns back to me. “For rescuing you? It would be polite, yes.”

  I roll my eyes as he turns away again.

  “Well how about you drop me off at the next port and I’ll be sure to send you a fucking thank-you card—”

  “You have a mouth on you,” he snarls. I gasp as he whirls and storms over to me. I tremble in my chair as he marches right over. His hand reaches up and suddenly cups my jaw, making my heart pulse like a drum as he leans in.

  “I—”

  “You have a mouth on you, kiska,” he growls quietly. His lips curl into a thin smile. “And I like it.”

&n
bsp; He steps back, muscles rippling. His piercing eyes sweep over me, making me tremble. “I have meetings to attend to. Rest, enjoy your vacation.”

  He turns to leave. But of course, my mouth won’t just stay the fuck shut.

  “Vacation,” I mutter thinly.

  Yuri pauses. He sighs deeply, and I watch his shoulders rise and fall with a small laugh before he turns to look at me again.

  “You are on a yacht that costs the gross domestic product of a third world country, on a beautiful sea, enjoying the finest wine and food you could possibly desire.” He shrugs. “You want entertainment? There is a movie theater downstairs with virtually any film you can imagine. There is a library as well that may rival some university ones. There is a pool, a gym, a running track…” He frowns. “I have a masseuse on staff who is very good. She is available to you all day if you so choose. So tell me, kiska,” he growls as he slowly stalks back to me.

  I gasp as he leans down, his knuckles on the table in front of me.

  “Exactly how is this not a vacation?”

  I purse my lips, swallowing. The nearness of him is… intoxicating. It’s disarming. It’s dangerous, too.

  “You can leave a vacation,” I whisper quietly.

  Yuri’s eyes hold mine; boldly, unflinching, and without blinking. His lips curl at the corners into a thin smile.

  “Enjoy your day. Dinner will be at seven.”

  He stands and turns to walk away again.

  “Should I just come naked? Or is stripping my clothes away as a power move just part of the evening entertainment for you?”

  He pauses at the doorway and turns to smirk at me over his shoulder. “I would, of course, always prefer that you come naked, kiska.”

  I blush at the loaded double-entendre.

  “Dinner is casual tonight. Come dressed or undressed however you like.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I snap.

  He turns to me fully. I tremble as those piercing eyes slip over me hungrily.

  “Yes,” he growls thickly. “I would.” His eyes finally land on mine, burning into me. “Enjoy your day.”