Between Power and Passion (Makarov Bratva #1)

Chapter 1 - Valentina

"Happy birthday, my darling daughter." Father's deep voice rumbles behind me.

I spin to face him, the layers of my crimson ballgown swirling around my ankles.He looks every inch the powerful crime boss controlling the Moscow underworld in his impeccably tailored tuxedo that hugs his broad shoulders. His dark eyes glimmer with pride as he extends a calloused hand.

"May I have this dance?"

I place my palm in his, letting him whisk me onto the glistening parquet dance floor. Chandeliers overhead cast a warm glow over other swaying couples. The gilded ballroom, decked with garlands of my favorite deep red roses, is filled withlaughter and clinking champagne glasses. Papa really outdid himself this year. It almost feels like we haven't been at each other's throat for the past month. Papa can be controlling, and if I want to break free from these puppet strings, I must stop asking, "How high?" when he says I should fly.

Father pulls me close, and the familiar cedar and smoke scent of his cologne assaults my senses. I scrunch my nose at the intensity.

Arrrgh, I hate this smell.

My chin barely reaches his shoulder despite my ridiculous five-inch stilettos. We glide in rhythmic circles, and my body instinctively moves to the waltz Mother taught me before...

I swallow hard, shoving thoughts of her away. Not tonight. Tonight is for celebrating the life she gave me 25 years ago.

I lose myself in the swell of violins, letting the melancholy notes buoy me across the shining floor. For a fleeting moment, everything feels right in the world. Almost.

An unexpected chuckle rumbles through Father's chest. "You've become such a radiant young woman, Valentina." He brushes a rogue curl from my face with surprising tenderness. "Just like your mother."

I blink. Papa doesn't compliment a lot. Well, never. Papa has never complimented me, ever. A lump rises in my throat as I study him, hunting for any hint of deception. His warm mahogany eyes remain sincere, crinkling at the corners.

Before I can answer, the music swells louder and then stops. Father dips me low, holding me up with one strong hand.

"I have an announcement to make." His eyes glint as his lips curve upward.

Suddenly, tuxedoed servers line the edges of the ballroom floor, proffering trays laden with fresh champagne flutes—as if on cue. Since it's a ball my father planned, I know it was deliberate.I shiver, a frisson of unease trickling down my spine at the anticipation sharpening Father's features.

What's he up to? Please don't ruin today for me.

My heart thrums with a sense of foreboding as he hauls me upright and steers me toward the stage dominating the far end of the ballroom. Hundreds of faces from Moscow's criminal elite and power-hungry socialites gawk at our procession across the gleaming parquet. I can't place most of them. They're all strangers wearing avarice and ambition like concealed weapons.

The conversations in the hall quiet as Father tightens his grip on my elbow, propelling me up the carpeted steps and into the spotlight. I blink against the brilliant stage lights blazing down on us. My mouth goes cotton dry as the expectant crowd focuses their predatory stares my way.An icy trickle of dread slithers down my spine, but I straighten up, squaring my shoulders as my heels click against the aged oak stage.

Get a grip, Valentina. You're the daughter of Sergei Makarov. Show some pride.

Father grasps my shoulders, steadying my trembling limbs. He leans close to say, "Breathe, my love." His voice softens, just for me. "Tonight is a celebration, one our family has anticipated for years."

Anticipated for years? What does that even mean?

Before I can question his words, he plucks a crystal flute brimming with Veuve Clicquot from a server's tray and turns to address the teeming ballroom.

"Brothers and sisters!" His stentorian voice booms like rolling thunder. "Tonight marks a joyous day for our family. My only daughter and greatest treasure, Valentina Makarov, has reached her 25th year." His chest inflates with obvious pride as he beams down at me. "She has blossomed into a rare rose, one of supreme strength and beauty."

The crowd bursts into rousing applause and raucous cheers. My cheeks go ruddy, heating beneath the gaze of so many probing eyes. I clutch the skirt of my ballgown, anchoring myself as his next words cleave the air like an axe.

"And today, as you become a woman," he swivels to face me, "I present to you your husband, the next Pakhan of our Kozlov branch, Mikhail Kozlov."

Husband? Is this really happening. My mind whites out, "husband" echoing like shattered glass in my skull. But I'm only 25! He can't be serious...

A collective gasp hisses through the room as someone climbs the stage stairs behind me. I turn to see who it is, the man my father has pledged my future to.

Mikhail is a strikingly chiseled man with an intense gaze that makes me want to run.His slate gray suit strains against his broad shoulders and strong arms. Though he is undeniably intimidating, I'm sure a lot of women would be swooning for this opportunity.

I shrink away instinctively from his scent of sandalwood and cloves when he finally stands beside me.As if my father senses the emotions stirring in me, he grips my elbow in a vise, and with a sharp tug, he jerks me forward until I'm pressed against Mikhail's chest.

I gape at him, lightheaded, as Father seizes my hand and stretches it toward Mikhail in a grotesque mimicry of courtship. A sheen of sweat breaks out across my brow as I battle between hysteria and unconsciousness.

"I give to you a virgin daughter of the Makarov family." He curls my limp fingers around an ornate gold locket. It feels heavy and warm against my icy skin. "An offering for your continued loyalty and service protecting our business."

A deafening roar of approval crashes over the ballroom. Men bellow like bloodthirsty wolves, pounding their fists and slapping tables in a chaotic display of masculine bravado.

I can't breathe, can't think. My world has shattered like a music box ballerina. Mikhail gazes down at me, expectant and remorseless, as if he's already claimed me as his possession to use and discard as he pleases.

A scream rips up my throat, exploding from my lips in a keening wail of horror before my knees buckle. I crumple toward the stage.

"Get her out of here." I hear Father's disgusted rasp before the dark swallows me whole.

-----

When my senses eventually come back, my shoes are off, and I'm sprawled across rumpled silk sheets. Moonlight filters through the parted curtains, illuminating the familiar wood-paneled décor of my bedroom.

Home. I'm home.

My fingers curl into the plush silken bedding. It was just a dream. Father wouldn't betroth me to some brute without discussing it first .

An explosive slam jolts my eyes wide, and my heart stutters in my chest. Father is standing in the doorway of my room. His tuxedo shirt is untucked, and his jacket is hanging on his shoulder. I've never seen him this disheveled before. His chest is heaving like an enraged bull as he stomps toward the bed.

"You disrespectful little bitch!"

My heart sinks at the vile tone laced through Father's words. This isn't a dream at all. I push myself up on trembling elbows, my gown bunching around my waist.

"Father, I... I didn't mean to disrespect you."

He stalks closer, creeping like a great bear about to maul its prey. "You embarrassed me in front of dignitaries and powerful business partners." Spittle flies from his lips, his eyes blazing with an unholy rage I've never witnessed before. "After everything I've done to secure your future!"

My chin trembles, but I force the words out in a ragged whisper. "You disrespected me first by not even discussing this... this arrangement," I fling out a hand, gesturing vaguely, "giving me no choice in the matter of who I marry."

A harsh bark of laughter explodes from his chest, the menacing sound making me flinch. "Choice?" He rakes a hand through his silver hair, lips twisting into a sneer. "You silly girl. You don't get a choice. You'll do as I say, your choices be damned."

He can't be serious! I'm not some pawn to be married off without consultation.

White-hot anger surges through me, burning away the cloying tendrils of fear. I throw back the covers and plant my bare feet on the plush carpet, rising to my full height to stare up at the towering man before me.

"I am your daughter, not your subject!" The words rip from my throat, startling us both with their vehemence. "I deserve the basic courtesy of being consulted about life-altering decisions concerning my future."

Father's eyes go wide for a heartbeat before narrowing to slits. He descends on me in two long strides, powerful fingers clamping around my upper arms like a vise. I cry out at the bruising grip, struggling against his superior strength as he gives me a sharp shake.

"You'll take the husband I choose for you, Valentina." His hot breath washes over my face, sour with the reek of expensive scotch. "This merger with the Kozlov family is crucial to maintaining our dominance. Your defiance threatens everything I've built!"

He's really going to force me into this loveless marriage with that brute Mikhail, all for his precious criminal empire?

Bile burns the back of my throat as I glare up at him, my heart shattering into a million fragments. I wrench out of Father's iron grip, fury and desperation lending me strength. "I will do no such thing!" I snarl, staring defiantly into his smoldering eyes. "I won't marry that man, Father. I won't!"

The resounding crack of his palm across my cheek steals my breath. Agony blossoms, and I collapse onto the bed, clutching the blazing imprint of his hand. Tears blur my vision as I gape up at him in shock, utterly stunned by his violence.

He's never struck me before. Never.

"You ungrateful, insolent child!" Father towers over me, chest heaving with rage. "The marriage will proceed in two days' time as I've decreed. There's nothing you can do to stop it." He jabs a finger at my stricken face. "This is not a negotiation, Valentina. You belong to me until I give you to another."

The words lance through me like shards of ice, stealing what little breath I have left. I'm a possession to barter off to him, nothing more.

He whirls on his heel and stalks out, the door slamming like a judge's gavel, sealing my fate. I flinch at the deafening bang, curling into a trembling ball on the rumpled bedding. I begin to sob, making harsh, ragged sounds as the truth sinks its claws into my heart.

He's really going to do this, sell me off to strengthen his criminal ties.

My entire life has been an elaborate pretense, a cage crafted by my father to keep me prisoner until I could be traded for profit and power. I've been foolish to think I had any control over my destiny.

And there's nothing to do, nowhere to go. I'm utterly alone, with no friends to turn to. Rebelling further will only incur more of Father's wrath.

A profound sense of hopelessness settles over me like a shroud. I'm trapped, with no escape from the nightmare that's become my life. As the muffled sounds of celebration drift up from the ballroom below, I finally understand the cruel reality.

I'm nothing but a prize to be won, and Father has already named the victor.