Beautiful Beast (Bound to the Mafia #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

ANYA

I look into the face of the devil, and he smiles back at me.

My high heels clack on the cold stone floor. The gauzy fabric of my wedding dress swishes around my legs. My hands clench a bouquet. The comforting scent of the flowers does nothing for me right now, not when I’m signing my life away to a bad man.

My legs tremble, but fortunately, my dress hides that fact. I don’t want him to see me afraid. To show fear is to show weakness. At least, that’s what my father taught me.

He’s holding my arm at this very moment, practically forcing me to walk down the aisle. Sergei Belov, the great Bratva man, is my father. From the downturned lines around his lips to the creases between his eyebrows, you can tell he’s a stern man who never smiles. He only ever frowns. No one is good enough for him. Not me. Not my sister, Nadia. Even my mother wasn’t good enough for him.

She’s dead now, so I guess she’s spared his wrath.

I haven’t been spared anything. Not my sanity, not my body, and not my freedom.

Because I’m being forced into an arranged marriage I did not sign up for.

The air in the large, grand old gothic church is freezing. Goosebumps appear on my arms. I think whoever controls the temperature did this on purpose. I think that the man I’m about to marry wants me to be cold.

He wants me to be uncomfortable.

The church is eerily quiet, despite the guests. I barely know any of these people. Either they are friends of my father or friends of my soon-to-be husband.

The only pair of eyes I recognize are my sister’s. Nadia looks at me with so much pity and fear that it makes me stumble. I’m not sure I can do this. Once I marry him , I won’t live with my sister. I’m not even sure how much I’ll be able to see her again.

Some of the guests murmur as they watch me righten myself. Now is not the time to fall flat on my face. I can’t let him see that version of me: the scared little girl.

My father tightens his hold on my arm. “Get your act together,” he says quietly so only I can hear. It only reminds me of how alone I am at this moment. No comforting words from my father. No warmth. No love.

Only cold calculation.

I nod subtly. It’s enough for him, and we resume walking.

My soon to be husband’s smile deepens into something dangerous. He caught a moment of weakness from me. What does that mean? Will he hurt me for it?

I don’t know much about my future husband, but what I do know isn’t good. I’ve heard horror stories about him. He’s like the boogeyman of the Bratva world, which says a lot because most men within the Bratva do bad things. I know my father has done bad things.

So, the fact that he is seen as the boogeyman, the man I’m going to marry, is a frightening thought.

The music swells as I get closer to the end of the aisle. A live orchestra is present, playing the usual wedding march song. Nothing but for the best for this wedding.

Even though I didn’t ask for this wedding.

I don’t want this wedding.

It’s not that I’m afraid of marriage. I’ve been taught from a young age to expect marriage, and I knew this day was coming. But I’d hoped I would marry a kind, gentle man. Honestly, I had hoped I would marry an idiot I could control so I could be in charge.

But the man I’m about to marry is not an idiot. He’s not someone I can control.

I don’t think I’ll get the chance to be in charge, which makes me blood boil.

I’m powerless to stop this as my feet get closer and closer to him. Every clack of my heels is like a ringing death omen in my ears. Clack, clack, clack. Death, death, death.

I might sound dramatic but I’ve heard stories about my future husband. He could very well kill me if he wanted to.

This marriage is for political gain. Alliances. A tried and true method to grow power. Most of the women in this church had arranged marriages so their husbands could become more powerful.

My father is one of the most powerful men in New York. It’s no wonder he wanted a part of it.

It’s also no wonder my father wanted a part of my future husband’s power. Any way to become untouchable in this city is a win for a Bratva man.

And I’m just a pawn, like every other woman is.

I don’t have any agency as I walk down the aisle. If I did, I would scream and run away. In fact, I already tried that, and it got me nowhere.

I’ve fought against this being my fate, but I can fight it no longer. It’s happening. I’m marrying a monster today.

I reach the pew that Nadia is in. On instinct, I reach my hand out for her, and she reaches out for me. Our fingertips brush each other’s …

… right before my father yanks me away from her. It’s a subtle movement. Only the people closest to us can see it happen. Which means my soon-to-be husband saw it.

When I work up the courage to meet him in the eye, I see he’s staring at me with a darkness that makes me shiver. He must like seeing the pain in my eyes. He must love it.

“Don’t,” my father growls at me. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

For him. It’s always been about him.

One more step. Then one more step.

Then …

I have arrived at the end of the aisle.

My father’s hand clenches my arm hard. I’ll probably bruise, though it’s not the first time he’s bruised me.

Meeting my father’s eyes, he gives me a look that tells me not to mess this opportunity up for him.

I don’t want to acknowledge him. I don’t want to give him any assurances. He can go to hell for all I care.

But I have to think about Nadia, so I nod.

He lets me go. The skin on my arm turns ghost white before quickly reddening.

My hand is in the air for a moment, floating. Free.

And then he takes my hand in his, and I have no choice but to step onto the small dais and stand before him.

The music stops. The guests are quiet. I could hear a pin drop. Maybe one of the pins in my red hair will fall out and clatter to the floor and cause a commotion so I don’t have to marry this man.

This intimidatingly handsome yet terrifying man.

The priest next to us opens his hands. “Let us begin.”

Erik Koslov smiles down at me. It’s not a kind smile. It’s a smile that says, I own you now .

I hate for it to happen, but my hand trembles. He feels it, too.

And his smile deepens into something even darker than before. It’s a smile from hell. Because I’m about to marry the devil himself.

One week before the wedding

My favorite thing to do is piss off my father.

It’s surprisingly easy to do. Or not—since he tends to get upset with everything and everyone in life.

Case in point, today, I pissed him off because I accidently knocked over a cup, it hit the floor, and now, glass is everywhere.

“What the fuck did you do?” he hisses as he stares down at the glass. His face increasingly reddens the more upset he gets. A vein always appears in his head. It’s impressive how fast it comes on. A part of me hopes that vein will pop in his head, killing him.

Then Nadia and I would be on our own, and we’d be allowed to live our lives for ourselves.

But that’s a fool’s dream because even if my father dies, Nadia and I will never be allowed to live our own lives. We’d be forced to move in with a distant male relative until we were married. That’s the way of life within the Bratva. Men rule the world, and women are subservient. Women don’t have a voice. Women don’t have anything, as my father has reminded me on countless occasions.

I stare down at the glass. “I accidently knocked it over. It’s not a big deal. Just have Carmen clean it up.” Carmen is our housekeeper. Maid and cook, too. She pretty much keeps everything running since my mom died.

“You’re the one who did this. You clean it up.”

“Fine,” I mutter, walking over to the closet and grabbing the broom.

“You’re always so irresponsible. Can’t you ever get your act together?”

“It’s just one glass. We have many more.” I sweep it up into the dustpan.

“It’s not about the glass, Anya!”

His shout makes me stand up straight. My father has a tendency to shout, but this feels different. There’s a more frantic energy to him today.

“Then what’s it about?”

“It’s about how you’ve been a pain in my ass for so long. I’m sick of it. You’re always so defiant. You always talk back to me. A good Bratva girl knows her manners, and you have none.”

“That’s because I don’t show respect to people who don’t respect me.”

He snaps his fingers and points at me. “That’s what I’m talking about. That right there. That … attitude. I fucking hate it.”

“What’s going on?” Nadia asks in her soft voice as she enters the kitchen.

“What’s going on is that your sister made a mess again.”

Nadia glances at me with wide eyes. She has a doe-like quality to her. Large eyes, brown hair, petite nose. Whereas I’m a more striking beauty with my red hair and blue eyes. You’d never know we were sisters, given how different we look.

I have our mother’s red hair and my father’s nose, but Nadia only has our mother’s eyes. It’s something our father has commented on before.

The fact that Nadia doesn’t look like him one bit.

“It’s just some glass,” I say, getting the last bit of it and throwing it into the trash.

“It’s not just some glass! You need to learn etiquette, Anya. You’ll need it if you’re going to make me proud.”

“Make you proud how?” I put the broom away and brush past him toward the kitchen table. I was in the middle of eating pancakes when I hit my cup.

“You’re going to finally serve your purpose,” he says with an indulgent smile. It’s a weird look on him. He rarely smiles.

Nadia sits beside me, her spine ramrod straight. Around our father, she never relaxes. I’ve joked that the only good thing about our father is that it’s helped her perfect her posture.

“What purpose?” I ask around a mouthful of pancake.

“Don’t eat with your fucking mouth open,” he hisses.

“Why not? It’s just you and Nadia.” I purposely take another large bite and chew it noisily, which only pisses him off even more. I think it’s pretty funny.

“You will show me respect.” Grabbing my arm, he hauls me from my seat. I should’ve seen the slap coming, but it still surprises me.

I gasp at the impact. Nadia gasps, too, but doesn’t tell our father to stop. I don’t blame her. Telling our father to stop being an asshole is pointless.

“I’ll do it again if you don’t stop with this attitude,” he threatens.

I look him straight in the eye. “What attitude?”

His face contorts with so much anger before he slaps me again. I know I’m pushing his buttons.

But I do it to protect Nadia. If my father’s focus is on me, he can’t hurt her.

“Please stop,” Nadia begs.

“I’ll only stop when your sister stops being rude.”

I stare my father down. He might hurt me, but he doesn’t frighten me. There’s no way he’d ever want me to be truly hurt because I’m a political asset for him. He can use me one day to make an alliance with any man he wants. Both Nadia and me.

That’s the part that terrifies me. I don’t want Nadia to be used in our father’s schemes.

“Are you done?” he asks, staring right back. Neither of us backs down.

“Never.”

He grabs my arm again and pulls me roughly against him. “You will learn to act with some fucking manners. I have big plans for you.”

“What?”

“It’s time for you to perform your duty to this family.”

A cold dead weight settles in my stomach. “Which is?” I know what it is before he even says it.

“You’re finally getting married.”

At twenty, it’s long overdue within the world of the Bratva. Women tend to marry at eighteen or nineteen. As a twenty year old, I might as well be a spinster. Nadia is seventeen, meaning she still has time before she’s sold into marriage.

But a year is a short amount of time.

“To who?” I demand.

“Does it matter?” He lets me go by pushing me away. I stumble, and my hip slams against the counter. I don’t wince, though. I never show my father the pain he causes me. It would give him too much satisfaction.

“Yes, it matters. I know why you’re doing this. You’re trading me for power. So, who did you sign my soul away to?”

“Erik Koslov.”

I almost throw up.

I’ve never met Erik Koslov, but I’ve heard of him. I’ve heard of the dark, brutal things he does to his enemies. I’ve heard rumors that he likes to skin people alive. That he likes to pull out people’s innards and eat them before their very eyes.

I’m sure some of it is exaggerated.

I hope anyway.

“Why him?” I ask, trying to keep my voice from breaking.

“Because he’s been gaining more influence throughout New York over the past few years. He would be a good ally. We could run this city together. If those damn Italians leave us alone.”

The Bratva, the Russian Mafia—has been at war with the Italians for decades. Ever since New York became New York.

“How are you going to gain power?”

“Through our shared assets, we’ll grow our businesses, double our guards, and triple our strength.”

“Can’t you do it without me?”

He pats my cheek, and it stings from where he hit it. “Of course not. He won’t make an alliance with me without getting something from me first, and you’re the perfect gift, Anya. The perfect pawn. Beautiful and young.”

“So, you spoke about this with him?” For some reason, that thought makes the back of my neck break out in goosebumps.

“Of course. That’s how I know he’s willing to make a deal. If he marries you, he’ll work with me. Simple as that.”

“And if I refuse?” It’s the wrong question to ask, but I have to ask it.

He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing. “Do you honestly think you can refuse?” He places each of his hands on either side of me on the counter, boxing me in. “Don’t be stupid, girl. This is the best gift either of us can receive. I gain power, and you gain the prestige of a wealthy, well-connected man. Any other Bratva woman would die to be in your shoes.”

“You can’t make me marry him.”

“No? I think I can.” A devious grin spreads across his face. It makes me want to slap him, but I know things would only be worse for me if I did. “If you don’t, then I’ll give him Nadia.”

Both my sister and I gasp, and my gaze flicks over to her. She’s so young and innocent. Granted, so am I, but I’ve faced our father’s wrath more than she has. I’ve protected her from it. As her big sister, it’s always been my duty.

“But she’s only seventeen. You can’t do that.”

“I can. We would just wait for her to turn eighteen.”

“Is Erik a patient man?”

His mouth snaps shut. I have him there.

“I think a man like Erik Koslov wants a wife now. You can’t give him Nadia because she’s too young. You need me, and you don’t like that you need me.”

He grabs my jaw so tightly it makes my entire face ache. “You will do as I say, Anya. I have made a deal with Erik. You will marry him so I can accomplish that deal. And you think I can’t give Nadia away at seventeen, but you’re wrong. If I, as her father, give my consent for her to be married, I can marry her away as young as I fucking want. So, do you want that to happen to your sister?”

He knows I don’t. He’s exploited it for years—my love for my sister. He’s still doing it now, and I’ll let him because I need to protect Nadia at all costs.

“Please stop,” Nadia whispers. “Please.”

After a long beat, Father lets me go, and for good measure, he pushes my head back as he does it.

He turns to her. “You’re lucky your sister loves you so much, or I would’ve married you to Erik. You’re much more compliant than Anya is.”

Nadia blanches and ducks her chin. It’s a motion she does a lot—hides herself away. Hiding herself from our father. But it’s pointless. We’re both of his daughters, and he’ll use us however he wants.

“Don’t talk to her like that,” I snap, making him turn back to me. “I’ll marry whoever you tell me to. Just leave Nadia alone.”

“That’s what I thought. The wedding is in a week, so you’ll need to go dress shopping. I want you looking presentable the day of.”

“Wait. A week ? Why not longer?”

“Why not? Because I know you, Anya. A week is generous enough. I know you’ll try to run away. I know you’ll try to ruin this for me. You always ruin things for me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You took your mother from me. She was a good, kind woman, and then she had you. You taught her to not like me. You taught her to leave me. And now, she’s dead because of you.”

Slowly, I shake my head. “Mom died in a car crash. She didn’t die because of me.”

“She did, Anya.”

I look at my father in a new light. The two of us have never gotten along. He was always too controlling, and I was too passionate and wild for him to handle.

It’s true that as I got older, I told my mom to stand up for herself. I told her she didn’t need to stay with him if she didn’t want to. All she needed to do was to take Nadia and me with her.

She said she’d think about it, and then she was in her car accident. She didn’t even make it to the hospital before she died.

“You’re getting married in a week because I want to be done with you. You’ll soon become Erik’s problem. Not mine. And I’ll reap all the benefits of your marriage to him. So, if you want your sister to be safe, you better play along. You’ll need a dress, so go get one.” With those final words, he storms out of the kitchen. My father has a way of leaving a room like he’s always in an annoyed hurry.

Today is no exception.

The moment he’s gone, Nadia rushes to my side. “Are you ok?” Gently, she tries touching my face, but I wince, pulling back.

“It hurts. Nadia. It always hurts.”

“I’m sorry.” She sounds so sad and pathetic right now, and it hits me right in the gut.

“I’m not mad at you.” I pull her into a hug and let her bury her head into my neck. I know it’s how she feels safe.

I don’t have anyone to make me feel safe. I use to have our mom, but she’s been dead for years.

“But you have to get married because of me.”

“It’s not because of you.” I pull back. “It’s because our father is power hungry. I knew this day was coming. I knew someday I would have to marry a stranger.”

“But Erik Koslov? The things I’ve heard of him, Anya …” She shakes her head. “Terrible things.”

“Who’s told you those things?” I play with a piece of her hair, tucking it behind her ear.

“Sasha.”

Sasha’s an older, wealthy Bratva woman who loves to gossip. Both Nadia and I have had the unpleasant experience of interacting with her at functions.

“What did she tell you?”

“That Erik eats babies for fun.”

“I’m sure she was making that up.” Even though I’m comforting Nadia, all I can think is that I hope those rumors from Sasha are just that: rumors.

“How can you sound so calm right now? Father just said you’re marrying an evil man within a week.”

“I’m not calm. I’m freaking out. But you need me to be calm, so I’m going to be calm.”

“I don’t want you to be calm for me. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do everything for me.”

“But you need me. Nadia, when I’m gone, Father will set his sights onto you. He might hit you like he does me. He’s going to find someone to marry you to. I have to find a way to stop all of that from happening.”

“How? You heard him. You have to marry Erik, or he’ll make me marry him. How can you protect me when you’re a married woman?”

I look at my younger sister and take in her scared expression. I’ve spent the better part of my life taking the brunt force of my father’s wrath to protect her, and I’ll continue doing the same.

“Because we’re going to leave.”

Nadia blinks, then her doe eyes widen. “What? But Father just said?—”

“I know what he said. That’s why he wants to marry me so soon. Because he’s hoping I won’t run. He’s hoping I won’t have enough time to make an escape. But what he hasn’t planned for is that I’m taking you with me.”

“What? Where would we go? How are we going to leave? Father has guards stationed at all the entrances to our house.”

“I know. That’s why we’ll make a run for it when we’re shopping for my wedding dress. He won’t bother coming to that. The moment we have a free moment, we’ll run. And we won’t stop.” I grab her hand. “Nadia, I know you’re afraid. I’m not scared for myself. I can marry Erik and deal with whatever he has to throw at me. I’ve dealt with Father treating me like shit for years. But I won’t leave you alone and at his mercy. Not when you could get hurt. So, we’re going to run away. Neither of us will get married. We’ll be free of our father. We’ll be free of any man who wants to do us harm.”

Nadia doesn’t look convinced, but she nods anyway. Because she’ll run with me. We’ll always be together.

“Let’s go over a plan,” I say.