Owned By The Bratva King: A Bratva Captive Romance

by Cole, Jagger

  I turn and kiss him slowly. Then I pull away, open the door, and step out into the California sunshine.

  “You’re here!”

  Belle screams as she rushes over to hug me. I quietly close the door to the town car behind me before hugging her tightly back.

  “Okay! The suspense is fucking killing me! Tell me!” She laughs. “Tell me, tell me, tell me!”

  I bite my lip. “I want you to know that I love you.”

  She frowns curiously. “I love you too, weirdo.”

  “And you’re my best friend in the world, Belle.” Tears bead at my eyes. “You’re like a sister to me.”

  She frowns. “River, are you okay?”

  “I can’t tell you,” I whisper. “I have to show you.”

  I reach back and open the car door. And Yuri steps out. Belle stares in confusion.

  “Dad,” she frowns. “I didn’t know you were…” she shakes her head. “What are you do—”

  She freezes. Her mouth suddenly drops open.

  “Oh holy shit…”

  “Belle…”

  “Holy shit!” she chokes. She backs away, and then whirls, her fingers shoving through her hair as it really hits her.

  “Holy shit!” she screams up at the palm trees.

  Yuri takes my hand. I squeeze it tightly as I desperately try and stave off the tears.

  “Belle, I-I wasn’t looking for it, and it’s nothing we planned—”

  “I fucking knew it!” she crows. She whirls, and I stutter. She’s not furious looking. She’s smiling.

  “You… what?” I choke.

  “I fucking knew it! That bullshit about the oil tycoon heir or whatever?!” She laughs. “I knew my dad was on his boat in the Black Sea. I mean I didn’t know, but… I wondered. I even bet Niko on it.” She grins. “He officially owes me fifty bucks.”

  I stare at her. “Belle…”

  “I’m not mad,” she says quietly. Her eyes dart from me, to her dad, to our hands locked together. “And if I was, fuck me, right? I mean, you’re my best friend. You’re my dad. I don’t own you two. I can’t veto how you both feel. But…” she smiles quietly. “I’m not mad.”

  I let go of Yuri’s hand and step towards her. Her arms go around me as I hug her so tight she might snap.

  “River,” she pulls back and takes my hands in hers. “I didn’t really know my mom, and I certainly didn’t know her with my dad.” She looks past me to her father.

  “You’re someone I’m getting to know, as my family. And you?” She turns back to me and smiles. “You’re my family. So this? This thing between you two?” She shrugs with a smile. “I like it.”

  Yuri clears his throat. “If you don’t…” he turns to look at me. He smiles as I slip my hands from Belle’s and entwine my fingers with his.

  “Then I hope to change your mind,” he smiles at his daughter. “Because I love her, Belle. I love her with all the parts of my heart that aren’t already yours.”

  Belle smiles, bringing a hand up to wipe at her eyes.

  “I’m not crying, you’re crying,” she chokes with a laugh as I start to cry too. She turns to shake her head at me, grinning. “I’m really never going to call you fucking stepmom though, just so we’re clear.”

  I giggle. “Hey, we’ll talk about that later.”

  “No, we just did.”

  I laugh as she swoops into my arms again, hugging me tight. “I love you,” she sighs. She pulls back and sinks into Yuri’s arms. “And I love you.”

  I sob a cry of happiness as I throw my arms around them both.

  “Shall we head inside? I was going to order tacos and margaritas.”

  “Sounds perfect,” Yuri chuckles.

  “Works for me, just as long as you’re brushing your teeth in time for bedtime.”

  Belle turns to arch a brow at me as I grin impishly.

  “Yeah, you better cut that shit out right now.”

  The three of us erupt into laughter.

  Epilogue

  One Year Later:

  Yuri holds the bottle up high, the sunlight glistens off the drops of water. And then, with a grin, he swings it down against the hull. I shriek, laughing and turning away as champagne splashes everywhere. But then, everyone present cheers.

  I look up, holding Yuri’s hand and beaming at the brand new yacht—the newly christened Kiska. It’s bigger, better, and even more beautiful than the one before, and ready to make her maiden voyage out onto the Black Sea.

  We’re right back where we started. Only better. Only surrounded by friends and family. And this time, utterly in love.

  Yuri turn to smile at me as he pulls me close. His fingers splay across the white lace gown I’m decked in. My eyes drop to his handsome as fuck suit.

  “I love you,” he grins.

  “I love you so fucking much,” I murmur back, looking into his eyes.

  “Ready?”

  “Very, very ready,” I whisper back. Hand in hand, we turn to face the crowd of our friends and family. The priest steps up between us as we turn to gaze into each other’s eyes.

  Belle is crying tears of happiness as she brings us the rings. We say the vows we’ve written for each other—in English, and in Russian, which I’ve been steadily learning. The priest finishes the blessing, and Yuri takes my hands tightly in his, looking happier and more at ease than I’ve ever seen him before.

  “I do,” he whispers.

  “I do,” I answer back.

  We crash into each other, crushing our lips together as he takes me in his arms. First, he took me. Then, he stole me back. Now, he’s keeping me forever.

  Looking for more from Yuri and River? Sign up for my newsletter and read a steamy extra scene! This isn’t an epilogue or continuation to Owned By The Bratva King. But this extra hot “follow-up” story is guaranteed to fog up your Kindle! You’ll also get a free full-length book when you join!

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  Paying The Bratva’s Debt Preview

  Thirsty for more Bratva bad boys? Owned By The Bratva King is its own standalone story. But if you’d like to catch up on this series of standalones, you can start with Viktor and Fiona’s story. Paying The Bratva’s Debt, is available exclusively on Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited, and has been an Amazon top 100 bestseller.

  * * *

  Lev and Zoey’s story, The Bratva’s Stolen Bride, is also available on Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited, and has also been an Amazon top 100 bestseller.

  * * *

  And after that, you can find Kostya and Nina’s story in Hunted By The Bratva Beast, and Nikolai and Belle’s story in His Captive Bratva Princess—both exclusively available on Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited.

  * * *

  Read on for a sneak peek of Paying The Bratva’s Debt.

  Chapter 1

  Fiona

  This party sucks.

  I fidget to myself, glancing around the crowd. It’s a lot more people than I’m used to seeing, which is having an effect on my nerves a little. There’s only maybe forty people here, but still. For me, with the walled, ivory tower life I lead?

  Well, it’s a lot.

  What’s worse is that the party is my party. Or at least, it’s being thrown for me by my father. And when Chicago District Attorney Thomas Murray says jump? Well, you jump. Or show up to his daughter’s graduation party, as the case may be.

  But the premise and the invitations are wrong. This party isn’t really for me. I mean on the surface it is. But just like everything when it comes to my father, this all boils down to his own political agenda. Everything always has. Where I attended school. The friends I had. The boyfriends I wasn’t allowed to have. Smile for the press, Fiona. Make sure you’re on the debate team at school—the press will eat it up when they see you following in my footsteps.

  Part of me wanted to fail, at anything, just to spite him. I dreamed of being the monkey wrench in his scheming and plotting. But I could never bring myse
lf to do it. So instead, I did what he wanted me to do: succeed. And now here I am, twenty-two years old after graduating college now law school early as well. All the right grades. All the right degrees, from all the right schools. All the right friends, no boys.

  “Why the fuck are you not drinking?”

  I grin and turn. Well, not all the right friends.

  Zoey would be the one exception to my dad’s strict rules on who I see or hang out with. I may have been home schooled because my father rarely allows me to even leave our uptown townhouse. He may have pulled serious political strings to get college and law school to let me take classes remotely. I might have had my extracurricular activities and my friends hand-picked to make his political career look the best it could. But somehow, Zoey Stone slipped through the cracks.

  It’s not like she’s completely bad news or anything. On the surface, she’s even exactly who my father would want me to hang out with—from the right family, has the money, goes to the right schools, and all of that crap. But she also has the freedom I don’t, complete with the ability to make bad choices, date glamorous older men, and party when she wants to. She’s almost certainly a bad influence. But sometimes, you need a little bad influencing.

  It should make zero sense that my father would allow me to even live in the same zip code as her. But Zoey’s mom and mine were best friends. Cancer took them both around the same time, almost ten years ago. I guess even “image is everything” Thomas Murray wasn’t stone-cold enough to block me from hanging out with Zoey here and there after that.

  “Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Zoey grins and hugs me close. “And miss this debacle? Of course I’m here.”

  “And of course, to support your dear friend Fiona while she’s made to play a pawn in a game she hates?”

  Zoey grins. “That too. So…” she turns to glance over the huge crowd of guests. “How many of these people do you actually know?”

  “Like, four of them.”

  “Not including me?”

  “Three.”

  She laughs and turns to snag two Champagne flutes off a passing tray. “Here. Cheers, and congratulations!” She clinks her glass to mine. “And I’m really proud of you, you know.”

  I grin, allowing myself to bask in the praise. My dad might have a ton of money and political influence. But I earned the accolades. I worked my ass off to graduate college early, get into law school, and then graduate that early too, with honors.

  “Thanks,” I smile.

  “And how many of these people you don’t know have come up to gush congratulations?”

  “Oh, all of them. So long as my dad was looking.”

  Zoey smirks. “So, he’s really doing it, huh?”

  “Yep,” I mutter dryly.

  Like I said, none of this is really for me. I’m the centerpiece, I guess. I’m the excuse for bringing all of these people here to my father’s townhouse. But the real goal here is money. Unofficially, this is Thomas Murray’s first fundraising gala for his bid to run for Mayor of Chicago. And having me here plays so well into that it might as well be movie scripted.

  There’s not a single thing my father won’t or hasn’t used for his own agenda. After my mom died, Thomas Murray became the poster-boy for the hard-working single father. He played himself up like this Kennedy figure who was also raising his daughter all by his lonesome, tirelessly.

  It was all bullshit, of course. My father didn’t raise me, an army of nannies, private tutors, and “finishing class” instructors to make sure I was ladylike enough for high society did. Not to mention the private chefs, maids, and personal shoppers because God forbid I go out to buy my own clothes.

  “Hey, you look fucking hot by the way.”

  I grin, blushing. “Thanks.”

  “Now finish that,” she nods at my flute.

  “I just got it!”

  “And I’m going to go get us more, so…” she makes a “speed it up” motion with her hand. I laugh as I knock back the champagne and hand her the glass. I choke slightly, and she grins.

  “Just gotta open the throat, Fi.”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  “Relax the jaw, use lots of tongue. Eye contact is always—”

  “Oh my God…”

  She laughs as my face burns hotly. “Fancy law school degree at twenty-two, lots of job prospects, and a dad who’s going to be mayor. The only thing we need to do now is finally get you laid.”

  I groan, feeling my face burn. “I’m fine, thanks.”

  She giggles. “No, you’re not. Trust me. Okay I’ll be back with more booze.”

  I shake my head and watch my friend disappear into the crowd.

  “You look thirsty.”

  I turn at the man’s voice. He’s handsome, and smug looking, and he reeks of old money. His blond hair is perfectly swept back and to the side, his square chin right off of a reality TV show poster.

  “Chet,” he smiles. He passes me a champagne flute.

  “Oh, thanks, but my friend—”

  He ignores me and presses the glass into my hand. “And congratulations on your graduation.”

  I smile. “Um, thank you.”

  “So, has anyone scooped you up yet?”

  “Hmm?”

  He grins. “Any firms.”

  “Oh, no. Not yet. I haven’t actually taken my bar exam—”

  “Well, they will.”

  I smile back at him. “Well, thank you, I appreciate—”

  “I mean with your dad being Mayor and all.”

  Being cut off is such a pet peeve. But I force a smile. “Well, we’ll see.”

  “It won’t hurt, right?”

  “I mean—”

  “And you’re smart, graduated the right school,” he winks. “Beautiful…”

  I blush, even though I know it’s a lame line.

  “Thanks.”

  “You know, my firm is actually looking. Cooper and Cooperman? Yeah I’m a senior partner there.”

  Of course he is. The man has “smug, rich, privileged douchebag” written all over him.

  “Oh, wow, really?” I ask with zero actual interest. This is exactly the kind of man my father ultimately wants me to be with. It wouldn’t even surprise me if he’s the one that sent him over to talk with me.

  “Yep,” Chet grins smugly. “I could probably pull some strings. Talk to the partners, get you in there for an interview.”

  My jaw drops in shock. “Oh my God, are you serious?!”

  He grins. “Of course! What are you doing tomorrow night?”

  My heart races. “Oh my God, nothing! Nothing at all! I could definitely come in and talk—”

  “I was thinking more going out.”

  “Oh! Okay, yeah, I could also—”

  “You know with your dad taking office, you and me could be quite the power couple.”

  The record scratches in my head. Yep, there it is. And naïve me walked right into it. There’s no pulling strings with the partners. He just wants to take me out. Even as I’m thinking it, I see Chet glance back around the room. Sure enough, there’s my dad, watching.

  “My dad put you up to this, didn’t he?”

  “Oh, no! No way!” Chet quickly backtracks. “I just wanted to introduce myself.”

  “Is your firm really hiring?”

  “Yes? I mean, for you—”

  I groan. “Well, it was really nice to meet you, but—”

  “Don’t you have a sewer to crawl back into, Chet?”

  Zoey suddenly shoves her way between us, glaring at him.

  “Zoey Stone,” he growls, frowning.

  “She’s not interested. Fly away, scumbag.”

  “Why don’t you let her speak for—”

  “Trust me, she’s not interested. You’re not her type, Chet.”

  He glares at her, and then turns to me. “Why don’t we let Fiona tell us what her type is?”

  “Because I already know it’s not the type who l
ike his girls young, rich, and unconscious, Chet,” she hisses.

  He bristles, snarling at her. “Listen to me, you little—”

  “Fuck off, Chet. Now.”

  “Cunt,” he mutters. He glares at Zoey before he turns and slinks away.

  “Ugh, fuck that guy,” she groans.

  “My dad sent him over.”

  “Well, your dad has really terrible taste in men for you.”

  I sigh. “He checked all the boxes—rich, successful, and apparently a…” I frown into my friend’s face. “Wait, did you and—”

  “Oh my God, no. Not me,” she makes a face. “Crystal Shoenburg used to date his brother though. Lots of family donations to sweep his predatory bullshit under the rug.”

  I blanche. “Wait, that was Chet Brubaker?”

  “Yep.”

  I groan. “As in…”

  “Son of Melvin Brubaker, CEO of Adonis Capital. That’s the one.”

  I roll my eyes and turn to glare at my father. He’s not even looking though. “Glad to see we’ve evolved past arranged marriages for political means,” I grumble.

  “I mean, does it actually surprise you? How many guys has your dad tried to set you up with because of their family’s money or political connections?”

  “More than I want to count.”

  She sighs. “So, you’re going to tell him today?”

  “That’s the plan.’

  “Well, I’m here if you need me.”

  “Thanks, Zoey.”

  The plan is to finally tell my father I’m leaving my gilded cage. I mean I’m twenty-two, I have a law degree, and it’s ridiculous that I’m still living under his roof as basically a captive doll. So, I’m leaving. Even if it means getting cut off completely, I have to get out.

  And today, I’m telling him that. No more suitors pushed on me. No more being a pawn for his political career. I want my life, and I want it now.

  I arch as my father shakes some hands. Wilson, his chief of staff, comes up and whispers something in his ear. My father frowns and nods quickly, then he turns and makes a beeline for his office down the hall.