Owned By The Bratva King: A Bratva Captive Romance

by Cole, Jagger

  Then, I’m alone. A waiter sweeps in with a tray of champagne, handing me a flute. I sip it, turning to start to mingle into the crowd of guests. Without trying to be vain, a few turn to me with recognition on their faces. But mostly, I’m ignored.

  Parties have never really been my thing. And without knowing anyone here, it’s only heightened. With most of the conversations around me being in languages I don’t speak, I am very fully out of my element.

  I try to avoid the thoughts of why we’re here. It seems like Yuri’s been avoiding talking about it as well. But I know we’re here because of the thing between him and Semyon. And that “thing” is me. It’s more than a little surreal to be at some Bulgarian sea-side villa while powerful crime lords debate and haggle the business of who you belong to.

  I scowl, downing my champagne and grabbing another from a passing tray. I take a gulp of that, starting to feel it. The music thuds around me. I start to sway to the beat, more to just sort of fit in a little better with the dancing crowd. But the second I gyrate my hips, I can feel the tingle from the… accessory I’m wearing.

  The minute I roll my hips, I can feel the little plug twist, rubbing against nerve endings that make me bite my lip to hold the moan. Okay, fuck. Dancing is out. I blush as I turn to scan the veranda party for a bathroom. Fuck this. I’m not spending the whole night stationary so that I don’t get too turned on in a crowd of strangers.

  I push my way through the crowd to the edge of the party. I’m find myself in a candlelit circular stone patio with gorgeously carved, ivy-covered railing. Beyond it, the moon glows low over the waves of the Black Sea.

  “It’s really you, isn’t it?”

  The woman’s voice startles me. I gasp as I turn, my hand flying up to my heart. But the tall, gorgeous blonde woman in the shimmering silver gown seems harmless enough. She smiles with a practiced smile at me.

  “River Finn, yes?”

  Her voice has a slight Russian lilt to it. She looks like she’s in her mid-twenties, maybe a little older, and very, very moneyed. The fact that I recognize her stunning gown as an Alexander McQueen only underscores that.

  I smile, blushing. “Yes?”

  “Wow,” she gushes. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

  I smile with a shrug. “You know, I was doing a shoot outside Odesa, and when I was invited…” I shrug again. “Well, it’s a lovely party.”

  “Just couldn’t say no, huh?”

  I smile, spreading my arms. “I guess not!”

  “Well,” she keeps grinning at me. “Most girls do so seem to have a hard time saying no to Yuri Volkov.”

  I stiffen. Her grin turns into more of a smirk.

  “To anything he asks,” she says flatly.

  The twist in her smile throws me. But I shrug it off. This also isn’t new to me. Yuri is a powerful, good-looking man. And I did just walk in on his arm. I’ve dealt with petty shit like this a million times with the various “tabloid boyfriends” I’ve entered parties or events with. Arrive with some guy with chiseled good looks and famous abs, and suddenly every girl at the party with even a drop of social climber or star-fucker in her wants to stab you in the neck.

  “We’re just…” I smile. “Acquaintances, actually.”

  The girl smiles thinly and holds a hand out limply. “Svetlana.”

  “Riv—”

  “We’ve covered that.”

  I raise my brows and take a big gulp of champagne. Well, this is getting cunty fast.

  “Well, it was very nice to meet you, Svet—”

  “He’s a lot of fun to be acquaintances with, isn’t he?” She sneers.

  I freeze. My heart thuds. There’s a familiarness in her talking about Yuri that makes something sour swell inside of me.

  “I…” I frown. “Mr. Volkov and I just have some mutual friends is all. I was here for the shoot, and he asked if I’d come to this lovely party with—”

  “Oh, you poor thing!” Her smile curdles. “You mean you haven’t even gotten a chance to play with that huge cock of his?”

  My stomach knots. My heart thuds in my chest as my face pales. Svetlana keeps smiling at me.

  “Or perhaps you have?”

  “I don’t know what you’re—”

  “It’s that black rose tattoo that really gets me, personally.”

  I freeze. My eyes narrow at her.

  “It’s so hot, isn’t it?”

  I don’t want to admit it. I try so hard to push it back down and ignore the emotion that I feel scorching my insides. But there’s no locking it back up. There’s no ignoring that her words and that smug, bitchy little smile bring up uncontrolled jealousy inside of me.

  “It was nice to meet you,” I say quietly. “I’m going to go—”

  Her hand shoots out, grabbing my arm.

  “Do you think you’re his first little plaything? The first young, pretty little toy he’s brought on that boat to wine and dine and bed?”

  My face grows cold, my lips pursing tight.

  She grins at me. “Silly, silly girl.” Her eyes narrow at me. “You are not the first. And you will certainly not be the last.” She laughs coldly. “Let me guess, he dragged you here and is now off somewhere in a meeting?”

  When my face tenses, she smiles wider.

  “These are the power chess-games these men play, little girl.” She sneers at me. “You are not his queen. You are a pawn.”

  Svetlana smiles smugly at me as she polishes off her champagne.

  “But what am I saying? You are just… what was it?” Her lips curl cruelly. “Acquaintances, yes?” She turns to leave, but then glances at me over her shoulder. “Anyways, say hello to Yuri for me. Unless, of course, he’s already found some other silly little girl to play with tonight.”

  Without another word, she saunters off into the crowd.

  I want to ignore everything she just heaped at my feet. I want to shrug it off, and tell myself it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. After all, Yuri and I are not “Yuri and I” at all. He’s my captor. My best friend’s crime lord father. That’s it.

  Except, that isn’t “it.” Not when I’m this deep. Not when I’m this wrapped up in him. Even if I hate that I am.

  My eyes narrow. My teeth grind as my heart thuds heavily. I turn, and I start to shove my way back through the crowd. I need to get the hell out of here.

  I need to get away from the man who’s somehow gotten his claws deeper than I ever should have let him get them.

  13

  Yuri

  “Yuri,” Petya groans. He sits back in his chair and rubs the bridge of his nose. I’m too amused with the sight of Semyon storming out of Petya’s office to more than smile though.

  “I brought you both here to work this out,” Petya mutters.

  “This is me working it out.”

  “No, this is you torpedoing some very, very lucrative business arrangements,” he grunts.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I meant of mine, Yuri,” Petya snaps.

  I spread my arms. “The terms are what they are. I’ve been quite clear that I think Semyon is an incompetent troll. It is pure luck and the fact that he’s worth more alive than dead to enough people that he hasn’t been put out of his misery yet.”

  Petya scowls at me. But he doesn’t contradict me either. We both know I’m not wrong. Even with my emotions taken out of the equation, from a purely business standpoint, Semyon is a horrendous leader. He’s lazy, greedy, and has a hair-trigger temper.

  * * *

  Like me, he was given the reins to the family-named Bratva that he runs from his father. But while he’s coasted on that for his entire life, I’ve poured my blood and sweat into the Volkov organization. I’ve driven it from mid-level syndicate to one of the most powerful, feared, and influential Bratva families in Russia and the US.

  “You goaded him, Yuri,” Petya sighs. “You insulted him.”

  “Yes, and it was quite enjoyable.”

  He gro
ans. I smile.

  “I joke, Petya. But the terms are what they are. That’s just business. Semyon is a rival, not a friend. I will not make this trade easy for him.”

  But that isn’t quite the truth. I’m not making it a “hard” business decision for him. I’m making it impossible; purposefully so. Because though I keep saying it, this is not “just business.” This stopped being “just business” the very moment I realized who it was I’d stolen from Semyon’s clutches. This stopped being a business decision the second I laid eyes on her.

  But this is not because I wish to play hero. I’m not a savior. I’m no saint. I’m not doing any of this to save River from him.

  I’m doing it to keep her all for myself.

  “Yuri, that was not haggling. You’re asking for fifty-percent of his fucking business.”

  “No, I’m asking for fifty-five-percent,” I growl.

  He rolls his eyes with a groan. “Yuri! Please! All this for a girl?”

  My mouth thins. The answer is yes, but I say nothing. I don’t actually trust myself to even think the answer in my own head. Because it is for her, but why it is… worries me. It frightens me a little, if I’m being honest with myself.

  I smirk to myself. Right. Honest. I haven’t been honest with myself since the second she stepped off that helicopter. This should have been easy. But it was her that Semyon wanted. And now, it’s the furthest thing from easy I can imagine.

  Yes, I want to destroy my rival. I want to take his business for my own and delete him entirely. But she throws a big wrench into that plan. Because as much as I want to destroy Semyon, I want her even more.

  Petya sighs and pours another heavy splash of vodka into his glass. He does the same to mine and then sets the bottle down.

  “Yuri, we have done business for decades. I did business with your father.”

  “And I see no reason why my dealings with Semyon needs to affect that in any—”

  “Of course it does!” he snaps. “Yuri! You are a smart man; smarter than even your father was, and he was a clever man. Don’t get obtuse with me. You understand that I do business with the both of you—you and Semyon alike. And I do a lot of business with the both of you.”

  His eyes narrow as he leans over his desk towards me.

  “But hear this, Yuri. I see there is more than business going on here, and I do not like it.” He looks at me coldly. “Settle this.”

  “Are you threatening to cut me out if I don’t play nice, Petya?” I growl dangerously.

  “Nyet, Yuri,” he grunts. “I am not threatening. I am telling you openly. Do not bring your shit with Semyon into my business, or I will cut you both out. Is that understood?”

  I stand and knock back the vodka. “A very lovely party, Petya.”

  He sighs. “Yuri, don’t be like that.”

  I turn.

  “Yuri! Sit! Let us find a solution to this. There is no reason to throw away a business arrangement as lucrative as ours for some pretty little whore!”

  With a snarl and a roar, I whirl on him. I storm over, and before I know what I’m doing, I clear his desk of papers, glasses, and the bottle of vodka with one swipe of my arm.

  The room falls silent. Petya looks at me coldly. He stands.

  “Get yourself in control, Yuri,” he says thinly. “And get your house in order.” He turns and walks to the door before he turns. “Enjoy the party, my old friend. Enjoy, and then get your shit together.”

  The door slams behind him, and I groan. My hands tighten on the edge of his desk. Shit.

  To say I’m in a foul mood as I stalk through the party would be an understatement. I’m a black cloud; a hurricane looking to destroy. And almost everyone who I stride past can see it on my face.

  When I get to the veranda, I frown. My eyes scan the guests dancing and swaying to the club music. But I don’t see who I’m after. I prowl through the gardens and don’t find her there, either. Back in the house though, my eyes narrow furiously when I spot her.

  She’s on a couch in a sunken, retro-style living room. And some… man—some asshole—is siting next to her. He’s grinning at her, leering close. His arm is around her shoulders. My jaw grinds painfully. My lips curl into a snarl, and I storm towards them.

  River spots me first. Her eyes widen when she sees the look on my face. But then I see her push that shock away. She smirks at me, teasingly. Then she turns back to the man and laughs loudly at something he’s just said.

  She’s playing a game. I don’t play fucking games.

  I stride up to them and drag my scowling eyes to the man. He’s still laughing as he turns to see who’s looming over him. I don’t know who the fuck he is. But I can see from the way his face pales that he sure as hell knows me.

  “Mr. Volkov,” he blurts as he jumps to his feet. My eyes narrow on him. Then they slide to burn possessively into River. Whoever the little fuck is, he’s a smart fuck. He gets it instantly that he’s just crossed a line he should not have.

  “Mr. Volkov, I am so sorry,” he chokes, his eyes wide and his face pale. “I… forgive me, please. I’ve had too much to drink.”

  “Then perhaps you should get some air.” I turn to him, my eyes blazing. “Now. Or else perhaps I could take you up in my helicopter for some…” I smile. “Some higher air.”

  He swallows, whirls, and all but runs away. I smile thinly as I turn back to her.

  “What the fuck was that?”

  I frown. “Excuse me?”

  “That shit! That macho alpha shit. What, I can’t talk to another guy?”

  “No,” I growl. “You cannot.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Wow, so, being kidnapped and locked up on your fucking boat while you negotiate to sell me to some creep rival of yours basically means we’re going steady then. Is that it?”

  I frown. “You’ve been drinking.”

  She rolls her eyes again. “It’s a party, Yuri.”

  My eyes drag over her, prying. “You’re angry.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  A group of party guests wander into the living room and find seats on the far side of the couch. I glare at them. But the five of them are clearly drunk. Instead, I grab River’s hand, turn, and pull her after me.

  “Hey!” She yanks at my grip. But I’m much stronger than her. “Hey! Let me the fuck go!”

  I ignore her as I pull her down the hall of the sprawling villa and into a room. I slam the door behind me as she suddenly yanks her arm free and whirls on me. She glares at me. I glare right back.

  “What exactly have I missed?” I mutter.

  She cocks a hip, crossing her arms over her chest. She glares at me. “Nothing,” she snaps.

  I sigh. “Kiska…”

  Her face turns red with anger. “Don’t you dare call me…” she frowns. “What the fuck does that even mean? You keep calling me that.”

  “It means kitten.”

  She purses her lips. “Kitten, hmm? Like a pet?”

  I frown.

  “That what you call all of your girls?”

  I arch a brow. “My girls?”

  River’s mouth thins. “Yuri, please.”

  “What the hell are you even talking about?”

  She sighs. “Nothing. It’s just finally occurred to me that I don’t have any interest in being one of your little playthings. So, please, make the business deal, Yuri. Sell me to that other creep for the best you can gouge him for, and we can be done with this absurd arrangement.”

  The growl rumbles in my chest.

  “Where is this coming from?”

  She opens her mouth and then shuts it again. She paces the floor, glaring at her feet.

  “Speak.”

  She barks a laugh. “Seriously? I’m not a fucking pet, Yuri.”

  “And I’m not a fucking mind-reader,” I snap back. “So tell me what the fuck you’re angry about!”

  She glares at me. “I’m not angry.”

  “Really,” I mutter dryly.

>   River’s eyes narrow at me. “I met a friend of yours tonight.”

  “I don’t have friends.”

  “Well gee, there’s a surprise.”

  I sigh. “If we’re done playing these games…” I walk over and grab her arm. “Let’s go.”

  “Svetlana,” she mutters thickly, yanking her arm from my grip. “I met Svetlana tonight.”

  I freeze. Slowly, I turn and look down into her eyes.

  “Svetlana Gagarina?”

  River bristles. “Tall, blonde, pretty. A giant cunt?”

  I smirk. “That sounds like her.”

  River’s face darkens. And suddenly, I smile as I get what all of this is about.

  “You’re jealous of her.”

  She glares at me. “Hardly.”

  I chuckle. “Yes, you are.”

  Anger burns hotly in her eyes. “Oh, is that funny to you?”

  “Immensely.”

  And suddenly, she slaps me. I snarl, bristling as I turn back to glare at her. River looks terrified at what she just did. But she holds her ground. She sets her jaw, glaring right back at me.

  “She told you we have history, didn’t she?”

  River’s lips thin to a line. Then I truly see it. She’s jealous. The thought makes me… I shake my head. It makes me happy. Not that she’s jealous, but what her being jealous of another woman implies.

  “She lied,” I mutter, truthfully.

  “Whatever,” River turns as if she might go. But I grab her wrist tightly and yank her back around.

  “She lied to upset you, probably to upset me by proxy.”

  River’s face burns hotly. She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure—”

  “She tried,” I grunt. “If you’re curious. She tried, a couple of years ago. I did not fuck her, but she tried.” I narrow my eyes at River. “Her father is Petya, the man whose home we’re in. He’d cut her off from her allowance—something to do with drugs or something. I don’t know and I don’t care. But Svetlana came to me, after, and tried to seduce me. I sent her away, because she only wanted money, and her father is a business associate.”