The Bratva's Forced Bride: Surprise Pregnancy Mafia Romance

Chapter 1 – Mark

“In a world of shadows, loyalty is a currency and betrayal is a deadly sin.” – Anonymous.

“Again.”

The zeal and malice in Yuri’s eyes gleamed and his lips twisted into a smirk as he swung his arm and aimed at the jaw of the beaten man tied to the office chair.

The sound of knuckles hitting bone through skin echoed in a sickening crunch and bounced off the taupe-colored walls. He screamed, gurgled, and spat a long trail of thick red blood onto the carpet.

I sighed. Yuri glanced at me. He knew what my dismay meant: the asshole had ruined the fucking carpet.

The red stain slowly seeped into the light brown low pile Berber, and after a bored yawn, I twirled a finger in the air. Yuri caught the signal. I didn’t need to say a word.

Again.

His fists flew from the side, connected with his cheekbones this time.

He uttered a painful, “Oof!” The man’s head lolled from side to side, and his damp, blond hair fell onto his forehead. His lip was busted, and his face was covered in blood. I’d pegged him to be a lot stronger than... that. A spineless coward, worth no more than a few bucks. And definitely not worth my time and energy.

“Don’t be a fucking pussy now,” Yuri scowled with disgust. The man whimpered, and then his mouth moved.

I grabbed my gun from the table, pushed back the comfortable high-back leather chair, stood up, and took aim. He was about to spit again.

“Swallow it.”

He blinked, his cheeks puffed out and tears mingled with the bloodstains on his face. He shook his head.

I cocked the gun. “Swear to God, I’ll blow your brains out right now if you don’t swallow that fucking thing. Can’t have you ruining my carpet, do you hear me?”

Reluctantly, with his head bobbing up and down and fear in his eyes, he gulped.

“Good! That wasn’t so hard, was it?” I smiled, rounded the desk, leaned against it, and faced the man. My gun dangled casually in my hand on my thigh. “I don’t know about you, but being filthy rich is no excuse for spending thousands of dollars on fucking carpet replacement. Now that that’s settled ...”

Yuri backed away from him and handed me the computer tablet from the table. With my free hand, I scrolled through the details—nothing but a boring profile of my prisoner—and looked up. “Ruslan Volkov. Thirty-two, single, works as head chef in the kitchen department—we have a kitchen department?” I asked Yuri.

He scratched his neck. “He works in one of our restaurants.”

“Hm,” I frowned and continued to scroll through the information on the screen. “And he had access to the details of the Swiss-New York deal because ... Ah, I see.” I dropped the tablet on the desk. “You have a knack for it too. Not only does our man have exceptional culinary skills, but he”s also unofficially in the tech department. Turns out he’s a bloody spy. Fucking explain this to me!”

He broke out in louder wails, panting like he was going to faint at any minute. “Please,” he heaved, coughed, and sputtered.

Fuck.

The bloody bastard. More red stains on the carpet. He didn’t know it, but he was successfully hastening his death delivery. “Maybe we should put some duct tape around your fucking mouth?”

“No!”

“Then, why, goddammit did you do it?” I slammed my hands on the table. So fucking annoying. “Stop ruining the fucking carpet and give me one goddamn reason why I shouldn’t end you, right here, right now.”

“I swear, boss, I didn’t mean to deceive you. Malik said it would be harmless. He was part of the deal but heard rumors that he was going to be passed over—halfway through it. He said he just needed the info to make sure and that was all.”

“How much?”

Confusion lingered in his gaze, and he looked from Yuri back to me. “What—what ... I don’t understand.”

“How much did he pay you?”

“Five ... Five million, boss.”

“You cost me ten times more, shithead.” I shook my head. “Yuri, bring him closer.”

“No!” Ruslan trashed on the chair, resisting Yuri’s grip. He grabbed a hold of the chair and jacked him forward, close enough to bump the man’s knees against mine.

“Please ...”

I put the gun under his chin and watched him freeze.

“I’m not stupid, Ruslan,” I muttered, tracing the muzzle from his chin down to his throat. “And I find it hard to believe that a man with your qualifications is as stupid as you claim.”

“Boss, please ...”

“Oh, now I’m your boss?” I shared a laugh with Yuri, dragging the muzzle even lower, and stopped at his chest. “What happened to having fun with Malik?”

He sniffled and coughed. “Please, forgive me, ... I don’t want to die.”

“Forgive? Last time I checked, forgiveness was God’s business. I, on the other hand, give the traitors what they bloody well deserve.” The gun traveled back up, across his chest, past his throat, and stopped in front of his mouth. “I should put an end to you. I should put an end to your miserable existence ...”

His lips quivered; blood, mixed with sweat, rolled down his forehead, and he shook his head. I pressed the gun deeper. Steel clinked against teeth. All it took was one bullet; one bullet and his head would drop with a hole in his mouth; one bullet and the light would slowly go out of his blue eyes, just as he deserved.

He ratted me out. Broke news and sold extremely expensive information about a secured deal to Malik Hayes—an aspiring punk who pulled some strings with cowardly politicians, ruled some tough gangs from the streets and suddenly thought he was the king of New York, which put him on my most wanted list. Thanks to Ruslan Volkov from the kitchen department, who had been working undercover for three months—as we found out later—Malik got involved and the deal went south.

So, if I were to pull the trigger now and watch his limp body slump to the ground, my actions would be justified.

But ...

I slid out the gun from his mouth. “It’s not your time to die yet.”

Relief shot from his eyes in the form of salty tears and his shoulders shook as he cried, “Oh, thank you, boss. Thank you so …”

“I said ‘It’s not your time to die yet,’ idiot. I have better use for you now.” Fear swiftly replaced relief and he gulped. I brought out a burner phone from the desk drawer and handed it to Yuri. “You played me, so now it’s time to pay the asshole back in his own coins. You”re going to call him and tell him exactly what I tell you. Word for word, Ruslan. No fucking jokes, you hear me? Because trust me, you don’t want to fuck with me. Not now, not tomorrow, and not ever again!”

“Yes ...Yes, boss.”

“Read out the number. When Malik picks up, tell him you have intel on some goods coming from Brazil in three days, but it’s sensitive info and you can only tell him more in person. He needs to meet you at Greene’s Orchard, nowhere else, your info, your rules. Tell him you have access to everything he needs to know.”

With a shaky sigh, he read out the number and Yuri dialed in. He moved the phone closer to Ruslan’s mouth and turned on the speaker. Malik picked up after the third ring. They talked— Malik sounded cautious like a juvenile thief and Ruslan kept his eyes on me the whole time as he repeated everything, I’d asked him to say.

“Good.” I nodded as Yuri handed the phone back. That I had a better use for Ruslan didn’t mean I had a use for the man who’d sent him. If I couldn’t take my anger out on the man weeping sweat and blood in my office, Malik had certainly gotten the short end of the stick.

“What are we going to do with him?” Yuri raised an eyebrow expectantly. The mad desire to make Ruslan wish he would never see the light of day again was written all over his face. If I didn’t do something to stop him, he’d just beat the shit out of the guy. Or kill him.

Knowing Yuri, the latter was most likely the case.

Logic may have triumphed over bloodlust this time, but it did nothing to quench the raging fire inside me that burned with the senseless, overwhelming urge to shoot something or someone.

I got up from the desk and returned to the leather chair. “Take him back to his fucking cell. I’m done with him for now. But who knows, we may have to explore the technical genius in him in the future.”

Yuri signaled to the two men standing at the door and together they dragged crying Ruslan out, still tied to the chair.

“You’re angry.”

“I am.”

I stared at the red stains on the carpet, and it struck a match that fanned the flame in my chest. “What’s so fucking funny?”

Yuri smiled, took another chair next to the desk and if I”d had a chance, I would have wiped the stupid smirk off his face. His hands lifted as if to surrender, and a phone vibrated in his pocket as he said, “Nothing.”

When he took the phone out of his pocket, I eyed the thing as if it were an added annoyance. He stared at the screen and grinned even more.

“Judging by the look on your face, I”m one hundred percent sure that whatever that was, concerns me.” The dopey smile on his lips remained and I raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you going to tell me? Or do you want me to fucking beg, Yuri?”

“Never ever.” Clearing his throat, he shifted on the chair, throwing one leg over the other. “We’ve located Logan.”

I scrutinized the expression on Yuri’s face. “Logan ...?”

“Logan Mercer.”

The second the name crossed his lips, all thoughts of blood on the carpet, disloyal employees, and Malik evaporated like gas into thin air. I felt the hairs on my skin stand up and my ears perk up like antennae. “Mercer? You fucking found him?”

Yuri nodded, like a proud hunter gloating, and new rage seized me, traveling through every nerve in my body until I saw red. A sharp ringing sounded in my ears and my blood steamed. It steamed so fucking hot that I clenched my teeth to keep my thoughts under control. When it came to Mercer, I”d take bloodlust over logic any day.

Ruslan Volkov’s offense was pale in comparison to the crime Logan committed years ago. Against me. Against the Varkov Bratva. Against blood. And to make matters worse, he fled. Cut and erased all lines and traces, anything that could lead back to him.

The fucker owed me big time, and I had sworn to myself that he would wish he had never been born.

Yuri hummed, bobbed his crossed leg, and drummed his fingers on the desk. I glanced at him because I knew what it was: the thrill, the excitement, the anticipation. He was just as ready as I was to continue the chase, but it didn’t mean as much to him as it did to me.

“He’s back ... the motherfucker slimy bastard is back,” I repeated, still reeling in the euphoria of the moment.

Yuri nodded his head. “He’s back, boss. He was spotted in Chicago fifteen hours ago.”

I kicked my chair back and he jumped to his feet just as quickly. We exchanged a look, and I grabbed my cell phone from my desk.

For me, this was a triumph. It didn’t matter that Mercer’s head hadn’t been served on a platter yet; I knew it was just a matter of time. And if I had to ruin another hundred carpets to do it, I”d do it with pleasure.

“Tell Lev to get the plane ready. We shall pay a visit to our old friend.”