Sold to the Biker: A Dark MC Romance

by Bella Rose

“Has your father always had an issue with alcohol?” I didn’t realize until I said the words out loud how much I wanted her opinion on the topic.

  “Yes.”

  It surprised me that there was no hesitation in her response. “It is normal for a man—especially a Pekhan—to drink with those under his command. It’s a sign of brotherhood and unity.”

  She snorted. “At nine in the morning?”

  Yes. I had noticed that as well. I decided to approach this from a different angle. “Has he always been like this?”

  “Ever since I can remember.” She shivered a little, clutching me a little tighter. “It was what brought Daisy and I together when we were teenagers. Neither of us were interested in getting drunk like our classmates because we both had parents who spent too much time with a bottle.”

  “I suppose I don’t remember.” I had to give her that. “He was always just Boris to me.”

  “I believe until a few months ago I would have considered him a high-functioning alcoholic.” There was nothing bitter in her tone. It was all matter-of-fact as though she had come to terms with this problem long ago. “Lately, though, he is tired and more prone to drinking too much too early in the day. That and he drinks until he passes out.”

  I thought of what had happened earlier that night. “That I did notice.”

  “Why are you asking me this?”

  “Your father asked me to take over his position as Pekhan.”

  Her sharp intake of breath was nothing compared to the way she scrambled away from me in the bed. “What? No! You cannot.”

  “If he requires it of me, I have no choice.” Could she not see that honor was in question here?

  I sat up, turning to face her. But she was already on her feet reaching for clothes. “Get out.”

  “What?” I was certain that I had heard her wrong.

  She put both hands on her face and moaned. “Oh! You are such a liar! Why do I always fall for these things? What is wrong with me?”

  I could have answered that her apparent penchant for fucking drama was what was wrong with her, but that wouldn’t have gotten me anywhere. Something had happened and I’d missed it. “Anya, please be reasonable. What did I do?”

  “You’re to be my father’s replacement!” she snarled angrily. “That’s what’s wrong. You came here and you wormed your way into my life and my heart and my—my bed! You convinced me of things, and now I know why!”

  She might know why, but I was totally baffled. “Anya, that isn’t true.”

  “Don’t you get it?” She was practically howling by now. “This was my father’s way of dragging me back in. Oh, he’s diabolical! Truly. This was well played. Well played, do you hear?” She was now screaming at me like a lunatic.

  I warily reached for my pants. She was pointing at her bedroom door. The message was clear. I held up my hands. “Calm down. I’m leaving. All right?”

  “Don’t you ever come back.” She was sobbing now. Big fat tears rolled down her face. “You are not welcome here. I don’t want to see you anywhere around me. Not watching me, and sure as hell not showing up uninvited! Do you understand?”

  No. I didn’t understand a damned thing, but I could at least assure her that I had listened to what she was telling me. “I hear you, Anya. But can you please explain what you mean?”

  “You’re such a big shot,” she hissed. “Go talk to my drunk-ass papa and figure it out yourself.”

  I pulled my T-shirt over my head and shoved my feet into my boots. I backed out of her room, showing her that I was leaving without incident. I think if the woman had been holding a gun, she would have filled me full of holes. It was shocking. Anya was not a shrew. So what could turn a sweet, willing woman curled up by my side into a raving lunatic with bloodlust?

  Boris.

  That was my only answer. So I gathered my things, exited the house, and carefully made my way to my motorcycle. I stretched, loosening my back as I tried to decide what my next course of action should be.

  Anya’s house was locked up tight, but that did not mean that it was impenetrable or safe. My duty was to stay here the rest of the night and make sure that she was not bothered by any Orlovs or by any of those strange men wearing St. Nicholas medallions.

  Thinking about the Orlovs reminded me that I had not seen one thing from them since I had made my presence known inside the bar those several days ago. It was very odd. I had expected them to take a day to regroup and then make another attempt to either intimidate or hurt Anya. I was starting to think that the Orlovs weren’t working alone. If fact, I had a pretty good idea who was calling the shots on this whole thing. I just couldn’t believe he would sink quite that low.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Vasily

  I strode into Boris’s office with a chip on my shoulder and an axe to grind. So when the old man glared at me and pointed to a chair, I shook my head and pointed right back. “You,” I sneered, “are a drunk and a fool. Do not presume to blame me for your current state of affairs. That was all you. All of it!”

  “How dare you?” He shot out of his chair. But his self-righteous display was ruined when he wobbled on his feet and plopped right back down.

  I gestured to the bottle on his desk. “How much have you had? Eh? How much more vodka have you had to drink since you passed out only a few hours ago? Do you not see what you are doing to yourself and to your family? Do you not see what you are doing to this organization? Or do you not even care?”

  I was past caring whether or not I was being disrespectful. That no longer mattered. As far as I was concerned, Boris’s drinking problem had ruined whatever chance I had with Anya. This infuriated me because I didn’t even understand why or how it had happened!

  I pursed my lips together, trying to stay silent. But I could not stop the torrent of words. “Did you know that your daughter and I have been sleeping together? Did you know that I’ve fallen for her?” I spoke the words quietly, expecting him to explode.

  To my shock, he sat back in his chair and looked satisfied. “That was as it was meant to be.”

  “What?” The word reverberated around the room like a sonic boom. I did not understand why he would be okay with something that everyone thought he would be angry about. Had I misjudged him so badly? “You’re not angry?”

  He shook his head, his bushy eyebrows going up and down as he seemed to contemplate all the possible meanings of this information. “Of course I’m not angry. Why do you think I sent you to protect her?”

  “But I wasn’t to tell her that you sent me. You made me a liar!”

  He waved his hand, dismissing my concerns before he’d given them any thought at all. His reaction just pissed me off that much more. “She would not have let you near her if she knew that I had sent you. Anya belongs in this life. She just has not come to terms with that fact yet. She will. Soon. And you have helped her get there. Falling in love with you, giving herself to you, that will only force her to accept that she must take her place in the Bratva.”

  “Why?” Did the guy even know Anya? I couldn’t imagine the woman doing anything she didn’t want to. Even when she was behaving like a frightened rabbit, she was more stubborn than a mule. “Anya threw me out of her house when she found out you wanted to name me Pekhan.”

  Boris only nodded. “Yes. That would make sense.”

  “Can you explain it, then? Because it doesn’t make a damn bit of sense to me.”

  “She knows that if you are Pekhan, that means you are the man I have chosen for her to marry.”

  He made it sound so reasonable. As if it was a foregone conclusion that his daughter would marry whomever he set up as the successor to his leadership position. And in a twisted, very Bratva way—it did make sense. However, I could suddenly understand why Anya had thrown such a fit when she discovered what was going on. She had been set up—without her knowledge or her permission. She had given herself to a man who hand been handpicked to drag her kicking and screaming back to the l
ife she had taken great pains to leave behind.

  “That isn’t fair,” I murmured. “You cannot expect her to marry where you choose. She’s a grown woman. She should marry someone she loves.”

  “Even if that man is not you?” Boris prompted.

  The expression on his face said he thought he had gotten one over on me. But I wasn’t about to be taken in so easily. “It would kill me,” I admitted quietly. “But I am man enough to admit that I want her to be happy, even if that happiness is not by my side.”

  “My, my,” Boris murmured. He pressed his fingertips together and smiled as though he had heard exactly what he wanted. “What you do not understand is that everything that makes the Romanov organization what it is has been put into a trust in Anya’s name. Upon my death, she will inherit it all. So only her husband will have the power to run this organization.”

  I had a very bad thought. “Who else knows this?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps some of my Avtoritet? It is hard to say.” He shrugged it off. “But no one would gainsay me. Not about this.”

  I thought of Antonin. “But someone might gainsay you on your choice for the next Pekhan of the Romanovs.”

  “That whelp?” Boris made a pfft noise and waved his hand dismissively. “I told him earlier that I was taking away his men and his position as punishment for his insolence in announcing himself as my successor. As if I would leave the Romanovs in his hands. I would as soon burn the whole operation to the ground. Antonin is far too brash and quick to anger.”

  “And you didn’t think about that as a problem when you demoted him?” I said through gritted teeth. “Have you any idea what you’ve done?” I groaned and tried to imagine all of the ways Antonin could punish us.

  Then I realized that the most obvious way was also the most insidious. “Anya,” I whispered. “He’s going to go after Anya.”

  “Why would he do that?” Boris scoffed. “She’s not even part of this organization at the moment!”

  “No, but you just said that she owns the whole thing,” I snapped. “Don’t you think Antonin has figured that out?”

  Boris actually looked chagrined. “Find her, Vasily. Protect my daughter.”

  Anya

  I was so angry with Vasily I could have shot him if I’d had a gun. At least that was the lie I kept telling myself as I poured hot water from the kettle over the tea bags in my mug. I couldn’t sleep. How could I after everything that he’d told me? And the dolt didn’t even realize why I was angry. Or perhaps he did.

  Absently dunking the tea bags to speed along the process, I wondered about his seemingly honest befuddlement about my anger. How could he not know? If he was professing to be my father’s chosen replacement—the next Pekhan of the Romanovs—how could he not know about the trust?

  I rested my hip against my kitchen countertop and sipped the hot tea. It seared my tongue and my throat. I didn’t care. Usually being in the kitchen made me comfortable. I felt cozy and safe. Now I was just angry and cold inside. I had struggled so hard to make a life for myself outside the Bratva. Now I was getting sucked back in. There was no other way.

  At one time I had even consulted a lawyer about trying to circumvent the stupid trust. I wanted it dissolved. I was of age after all. Apparently my father had some really good lawyers. Ironic considering he was a fucking criminal! Or maybe that was why. I didn’t know. I didn’t care.

  There was a knock on my front door. I pressed my lips together and set my mug down. Of course there was a knock on the front door. I waited a minute. Apparently he had at least absorbed my last comments about just sneaking into my house. He could have broken in and then broken back out by now. Was he just trying to be polite so I wouldn’t be so pissed off about having to marry his lying ass?

  “You know,” I said. “When I told you to get out, I wasn’t just telling you to take a fucking walk around the block. I meant for good!”

  There was another knock, this one more insistent.

  My temper started to boil. Vasily was going to get the worst of my temper if he didn’t watch it! “What part of get out do you not comprehend?” I shouted this in Russian. Then switched to English. “I don’t want to talk to you!” I yanked the door open and was promptly openmouthed in shock.

  “So rude,” Antonin said snidely. “And here I was prepared to be polite.”

  “Wh—what are you doing here?” I finally managed to stammer. “You shouldn’t be here. My father wouldn’t approve.”

  “Your father wouldn’t know,” Antonin spat. “He’s too drunk off his ass to know anything these days.”

  That rankled, mostly because it was true. But Antonin was supposed to be loyal to my father. Why was he here making a complete ass out of himself? “You’ve been stirring up the Orlovs,” I guessed suddenly.

  The corner of his mouth twisted. He pushed his way into my living room. I stumbled back, trying to keep space between him and me. The room seemed so much smaller with him inside. His malevolent presence was suffocating. I wanted him out, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think he was going to go of his own accord.

  “If you’re here when Vasily gets back, he won’t be pleased.” I tried to inject some bravado into my voice. I’m not even sure if I succeeded. All of my emotions were so jumbled up!

  “Vasily was answering a summons from Boris,” Antonin said offhandedly. “He won’t be back in time to help you.”

  “Meaning what?” I kept my voice firm and forced myself to stand my ground. This was my house and my life, and I could not keep letting people push me around. “What do you think you’re going to gain from this? I have nothing to give you! I left my father’s organization years ago.”

  Antonin whirled around. He had been studying the interior of my home. It made my skin crawl to think of him looking at my private things. I was going to have to clean for a week just to get his stench out of the house. Now he was chuckling to himself. “Do you honestly think that I wouldn’t know about your real role in the Bratva? I stumbled on that years ago. Probably before you did.”

  “You’re such a bastard,” I told him bitterly. “My father should have left you in that orphanage. Maybe your parents put you there because they knew what kind of poison you would spread.”

  “That’s harsh.” He put his hand over his heart, pretending to be hurt. At least I’m assuming he was pretending considering the ugly expression on his face. “I’m truly hurt that you would say something so hateful about me. But then you’re nothing but a spoiled princess. Isn’t that right?” He gestured to my things. “Look at all of this. You like to say that you’re independent, but I know what bought all of this! It’s purchased with mafiya money. With money gained from my blood, sweat, and tears!”

  “Oh please.” There was no way I was letting him throw himself a pity party at my expense. “When have you bled or sweated for anything in your whole life? Anything I own I bought with my own earnings from my own job. You’ve been stealing from my father for years! He knows all about you, Antonin. And I’m pretty sure that’s why he decided that Vasily was to be the next Pekhan.”

  “You bitch!”

  He stomped toward me, and I could do nothing but try not to cower. Antonin grabbed me by my hair and twisted it around his hand. “Let’s go, princess. We can’t be late for our own wedding!”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Anya

  Wedding. The word actually made my stomach sour to the point that I thought I might throw up all over Antonin. As undignified as that might be, I think I would take the opportunity for distraction. The ass was still holding onto my hair while he tried to get the passenger door of his car open.

  “Hold still!” he growled.

  He wrenched my neck around so hard I think I actually saw stars. My vision crinkled at the edges and turned black. No. I could not pass out. Not now! I needed to stay conscious and figure a way out of this mess.

  “Do you really think you can worm your way into the Romanov leadership by marrying me an
d gaining control of my trust?” I squirmed, trying to smash his instep with my sadly insufficient shoe.

  He finally got the door open. I grabbed the edges of the car, trying to keep him from stuffing me inside. I pressed the soles of my shoes against the pavement and held on until my fingers screamed with the effort.

  “You know we’ve always thought you were just stupid.” His voice sounded strained. Good. “But apparently you’re just smart enough to know what’s happening and too stupid to prevent it.”

  “Seriously?” I snorted. “That’s the best you’ve got. I’m too stupid to prevent a kidnapping?”

  “No.” He sounded downright exasperated now. His expression was ugly, and a real shot of fear lanced through my body as I considered what he might do next. “But you’re too stupid to realize that you’re—” He made a face and reached into his pocket. When he pulled out his gun, I knew I was going to have to change my game plan. “Just get in the damn car.”

  “If you shoot me, you’ve got nothing. The trust is dissolved, and everything goes back to my father.” I could not resist needling him. “Who—at least I’ve heard—has already announced that Vasily is going to be his successor.”

  “Fine.” I saw him flip the gun end over end. “Have it your way.”

  I could not get out of the way fast enough. The pistol hit me in the back of the neck with shocking force. I felt my body crumple. I lost control of my limbs, and my vision went dark. As I slumped into the car behind me, I realized that I was in real trouble. I had to get this figured out. I had to. And yet I had nothing to help me.

  So much for my freaking bodyguard, right?

  I can count the number of times I’ve passed out on one hand. I’m not much of a party girl. I don’t like to drink. And I’ve only been conked on the head a few times in my life. So let’s just say that the disgusting feeling of waking up and not being completely aware of where I had been taken was very disorienting. Not to mention the horrible dry feeling in my mouth. It felt like my tongue was made of cotton and I’d been eating a steady diet of dirt for months.