Bratva Vow (The Volkov Trilogy #2)

Chapter 1 Benedikt

Benedikt

She doesn’t move at first.

She just stands there, eyes locked on mine like I’ve just asked her to put a bullet in her own skull.

Her lips are slowly parted. Those pretty, sharp little things that never shut up when I want them to, and I watch her chest rise and fall in uneven breaths.

“You’re serious,” she finally says.

Not a question.

Just disbelief wrapped in that tone I’ve been fantasizing about since the moment she first waltzed into my office with a birthday cake and flour smudged on her face.

“Do I look like a man who jokes?” I ask, loosening the top button of my shirt like it’s suddenly too tight.

It’s not. She is.

I’m in control, but the way she’s standing aimlessly in my office like she’s looking for outside help, and I’m the person who is about to assault her, is making me hot.

Sienna crosses her arms. “You want me to get on my knees and suck your dick just to finalize your little hostage agreement?”

“No,” I murmur, leaning back against my desk like I’ve got all the time in the goddamn world. “I want you to mean it.”

“Fat chance,” she immediately shoots back. “What got lost in your mind that formed that idea?”

“The one where you’ll enjoy it.”

“You’re a psychopath.”

“You should’ve read the fine print.”

“Of what? I haven’t received anything but heard your insane needs to keep my father alive.”

“This deal is about more than words, princess. I’m not shaking your hand like some weak politician who made you a promise with no means of keeping it. I meant every word I said. If I’m going to own you, publicly, intimately, and legally, then we’re going to start with something honest.”

She makes a face. “And sucking your dick is honest?”

“My dick’s the most honest part of me.”

She exhales sharply, furious and flustered in equal measure.

And she’s beautiful like this. Sweatpants hanging low on her hips, oversized T-shirt bunched at the waist like she’s been dragging herself through hell all morning.

She didn’t even put on a bra.

That should piss me off, but all it does is make me want to peel that shirt up over her head and see if her attitude keeps up when her tits are in my mouth.

She takes a step forward. Then another. And my cock starts to throb in anticipation, because I know exactly how this ends.

“You’re a fucking pig,” she says, but she sinks to her knees anyway on the polished wood floor.

“And you’re an ungrateful brat. But here we are.”

“A brat is someone who expects something. And I don’t want anything from you.”

“You want your father alive.”

Her nostrils flare before her gaze falls to my crotch again. Her palms plant themselves on her thighs as she looks like she’s weighing every single choice that’s led her here.

“I could bite you,” she warns. “Make you bleed.”

I exhale a low laugh. “Princess, if you do it right, I’ll thank you.”

That earns me a scowl, but it doesn’t stop her hands from moving.

She reaches for my belt with fingers that tremble ever so slightly, not out of fear, but anger.

Her fury is humming beneath her skin like electricity, and it turns me the fuck on.

There’s something delicious about this—about her doing something so dirty, so intimate, to keep her father breathing and keep herself from unraveling under the weight of my world.

She gets my pants undone with practiced defiance, yanking the zipper down like she wants to punish me with it. Then she frees me, slow and deliberate, lips parting as she takes me in.

She knows exactly what she’s doing.

Now, I’m starting to get pissed off.

“Jesus,” she mutters, glaring at my cock like it personally offended her.

“Something wrong?” I ask, voice rough and teetering on ripping her off the ground to make her spill out every man she’s ever given a blowjob to, and wanting her to remain exactly where she is.

“I hate you.”

Those three words should hurt. I should think about them. I shouldn’t be selfish and worry about myself, but about how it makes her feel.

But I don’t.

Sienna might have morals and requires dates, to be wooed, and to actually know a person’s favorite color before sucking a man off, but that’s not me.

I’m never going to be that for her, and this is lesson number one.

I take.

I conquer.

I own.

That’s it.

“You’re gonna need to try harder than that to convince,” I profess evenly, locking onto her beautiful, golden brown eyes. “You’re already on your knees.”

Sienna rolls her eyes while her nostrils flare, but shifts closer, her breath brushing teasingly against the tip.

When she finally takes me into her mouth, it’s not tentative. It’s not sweet. It’s a warning, teeth grazing my skin just enough to make my knees stiffen.

Fuck.

“Goddamn,” I hiss, threading a hand through her hair, guiding her as she works me with that stubborn mouth of hers.

She’s good at this, better than I expected.

Maybe because she hates me.

Maybe because she wants to punish me.

Maybe because this is the one place she gets to have power on her knees, using my body to spit her defiance back in my face.

I let and watch her.

And I lose my fucking mind.

She drags her tongue along the underside of my cock, swirling, licking, and tasting me like I’m something she’s trying not to crave.

My grip tightens in her hair, and I can feel the smug little glint in her eye as she glances up at me.

Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t stop.

She sinks back down, deeper this time, taking more of me than I expected. Her jaw flexes, tongue teasing, and when her teeth scrape again, I damn near lose it.

“You trying to test me?” I ask, breath shallow, heart pounding against my ribs like it wants out. “Trying to see if I’ll snap?”

She hums around me, vibrations licking through my veins, and I let out a strangled curse.

My thighs tighten. My jaw clenches. I’m so fucking close, and she knows it.

She bobs her head faster, fingers curling around the base, twisting just right. My balls are about to explode, and I want nothing more than to have her swallow my cum, but there’s so much more than this girl sucking me off in my office during the day.

It’s respect.

Something I’m never going to get from her.

And fuck, maybe that’s why I like it.

Sienna isn’t something I need for myself, but for my future. I don’t need to be her friend. I don’t need her to like me.

I need an heir.

And fucking her will only be a bonus in obtaining one.

Her teeth graze the underside of my cock and I hiss, one hand threading in her hair while the other grips the edge of the desk like I might fly off the goddamn Earth. I don’t stop her, don’t pull her back, or warn her.

I lean into it.

She’s daring me to stop this altogether or lose control, and I do. I let it happen. I let her ruin me with her mouth.

“Fuck,” I mutter, my voice going dark and deep. “You think you’re clever, huh?”

She gives another rough suck, like she’s punishing me, and I groan deep in my chest. I come hard, hips jerking, one brutal thrust into her mouth before I grip her hair tighter, forcing myself still.

My head tips back. I breathe like I’ve been underwater for ten minutes, and I force myself to look down at her to see what she’s done.

She swallowed.

Like a good girl.

But not out of obedience, never that. She does it to win and to show me that it meant shit all to her.

When she pulls away, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and rises slowly to her feet, all fire and defiance even with her lips a little swollen and her breath uneven.

Yeah, she hates me, alright.

Reaching for the untouched water bottle on my desk, I hand it to her, but she doesn’t take it.

“Anything else?” she asks, refusing to meet my eyes, straightening her shirt, and brushing her palms on her thighs like she’s trying to erase what just happened.

“Take the water, princess.”

Her gaze slices sharply at me, scowling as if I said she was the most hideous thing in the world. “Don’t offer me anything after you made me do that. You’re sick.”

“And you’re mine,” I say smoothly. “That mouth just proved it.”

Her head snaps up, eyes blazing. “You might own this deal, Benedikt, but you don’t own me.”

I step forward, crowding her space again. “You agreed to give me a child. To be seen with me. To lie to the world with a smile on your face. That’s more than ownership, Sienna. That’s devotion.”

“It’s survival.”

“Same thing.”

She turns her back on me, walking toward the door. But before she can touch the handle, I speak again, lower and more serious this time.

“You can hate me,” I tell her. “You can curse my name and plot my death every day for the next five years. But you’ll give me what I want.”

She doesn’t respond right away. I can see her mentally calculating how far she’s willing to go, what the hell she’s signed herself up for, and how to get out of it. But there is no out. Not anymore.

Not unless I say so.

“You said five years,” she finally says.

I nod once. “Five years to give me what I want. The appearance of partnership. A child. A life I can parade in front of my father if it comes to that.”

“Why me?” she asks, and it’s not the first time she’s said it.

It won’t be the last.

I step closer. “Because you don’t belong in this world, and somehow, you keep surviving it.”

Her throat moves as she swallows. “That’s not a compliment.”

“It’s not supposed to be.”

“I’m never going to like you. I’m never going to enjoy your company. I’m never going to want to spend time with you. This is all fake—”

“Good.” I smile slowly. “It’ll make fucking you even more interesting.”

Her palm hits my chest, hard, but I barely move. “You’re such a bastard, you know that? No wonder you can’t find another woman to do this. You’re a prick.”

“And you’re still standing here.”

Her hand curls into a fist against my suit jacket, like she wants to punch me or hold on, maybe both. “This isn’t going to end well.”

“No,” I agree, lifting a hand to brush a stray piece of hair off her face. “But it’ll be memorable.”

We stand like that for a second, breath mingling, heat shifting between us like the gravity’s changed.

She hates me. But hate is still a connection, something I can work with.

Her eyes drop to my mouth, and she’s fighting herself.

She’s losing.

I’m winning.

However, I’m not that much in the lead. Sienna makes me want to lose control, and that’s not something I’m accustomed to.

My world consists of thinking with my head, not my dick.

I’ve come too far to act irrationally over a girl who works in a bakery, who is part of a debt, and who has no business being in my world.

But she is.

Or she will be.

And I want nothing more than her in my bed so I can fuck all my frustrations about my brother being out of prison out of my head. To start making an heir so I can secure my father’s kingdom once and for all.

“Are we done here?” she finally says, barely above a whisper, and causing me to descend back to reality.

“For now.”

She steps back, and I let her. She straightens her T-shirt like it matters and looks down at her sweatpants like she just remembered she’s wearing them in front of me.

I could say something cruel, something mocking, but I don’t because she looks beautiful.

So, instead, I move behind my desk, picking up my phone like she doesn’t affect me more than anyone ever has.

“Tell your grandmother she’ll be taken care of,” I say, not looking up. “Private nurses. Better facility. Whatever she needs.”

“I’m not telling her anything,” she sharply retorts. “She stays where she is. You just front the bill.”

I nod. “Done.”

“And my father?”

Mindlessly, I squeeze my phone tighter because I don’t understand why she cares. He doesn’t give a shit about her. He sold her to me.

And I’m not exactly Prince Charming.

“And your father,” I repeat, my voice flat. “Will remain breathing until you give me a reason otherwise.” Her knuckles whiten as her fingers ball into fists. “Have a good rest of your day, Sienna.”

She doesn’t reply when I dismiss her. She just leaves, quietly, but I don’t miss the tension in her spine before the door slams closed with extra emphasis on how pissed she really is and regretting the price she’s agreed to pay.

Good.

Regret is the root of obedience.

Letting out a slow, steady breath, I ran a hand through my hair. My pants are still half-askew. I fix them, button up, and straighten my cuffs.

Then I grab my phone again and text Artem.

BENEDIKT: She agreed.

ARTEM: Lucky us.

BENEDIKT: Let her dad go with a warning that, if he so much as speaks to her in any form, he’ll be dead for real this time. He’s already past his expiration date.

ARTEM: This is a bad idea, Ben.

BENEDIKT: Then I’ll handle the consequences.

ARTEM: Are you sure this is the right way?

I stare at the screen.

The right way?

There’s no right in this business. Only survival.

And I’ll be damned if I let Nikolai take what I’ve spent years carving out for myself. Not even if he is the favorite. Not even if my father hands him the fucking keys.

Sienna Volkov might ruin me.

But she’s also going to make me king.