The Bratva’s Arranged Bride (Milov Bratva Brides #12)

Chapter 1 - Valery

Winter is my favorite time of year. The hot Miami summer heat gets to me.

If I could, I would spend all day in the pool, but my ivory skin always says no.

I turn bright red within ten minutes of being in the sun.

And when I turn red, it’s not like it fades into a nice tan afterward; I skip over the tanned part and go from red to pale again.

It’s a curse I’ve learned to embrace, though, seeing as I have no choice in the matter. I wade into the deeper water of my brother’s massive swimming pool. Dipping beneath the surface, my dark hair floats around me like mist, no longer restrained by gravity.

At least through the summer, I get to take a break from running the family restaurant.

Timofey hired a new manager to run the place now that our financial problems have eased, and we have room to breathe.

I helped train the guy, and he’s actually brilliant at what he does.

I hope that by the time summer is over, I might not have to go back, and I can start pursuing a different career path.

One that makes me happy. Something fulfilling.

I only really work at the restaurant to help my family, but there must be another way for me to add value, one that adds meaning to my life as well. I don’t think I was cut out to handle the absolute chaos of managing a restaurant.

But I don’t have to think about that for now; I have a few months off to relax and enjoy a couple of mornings sleeping late.

Not that the heat allows for sleeping late.

Stepping out of the pool, cool, clear water drips from my body as I reach for a towel and walk into the shade of an overhanging umbrella.

My black bikini contrasts with my ivory skin and matches my pitch black hair.

I push my sunglasses onto the top of my head and squint into the bright midday sun.

It’s time for an iced tea and the even icier blast of my air-conditioner.

I have a new book I’m excited to start, and today is the perfect day to hide away from the summer heatwave and enjoy an ink-mapped adventure and the smell of a brand new book with crisp white pages.

“Bernard?” I call out, hoping the butler is within hearing range.

“Yes, Miss Valery?” he calls back, walking toward me, already carrying a tray with a peach iced tea on it.

“Oh, you read my mind!” I say excitedly, accepting it with a gracious nod. “What would I do without you?” I grin.

“Melt into a puddle of dismay,” he smirks, on brow raised.

Bernard’s eyes crinkle at the seams when he smiles. His aged skin is a reflection of his years of wisdom and patience working in our family mansion. He saw my brothers grow up, held his own against their mischief, curiosity, and challenges. He’s a part of our family.

“I’ve turned up the air-conditioning in the living room for you. And I’ve asked the chef to make something fresh and summery for dinner.”

“Thank you, Bernard. Honestly, I can’t wait for this heatwave to pass,” I sigh, taking a cool sip of iced tea and letting it run down my throat, leaving an icy trail in my body that I savor. “Where are my brothers?” I ask.

“They are currently in a meeting, Miss Valery.” He stands with his arms folded behind his back.

“Boring.” I roll my eyes, grinning.

“Was there anything else I could get for you?” he asks.

“No. Thank you, Bernard. This is perfect.” I gesture toward my drink.

He smiles, bows his head, and takes his leave of me.

I carry my drink into the living room and set it down on the coffee table, then head upstairs to change.

Slipping out of my bikini, I hang it over the edge of my shower door and dry off before pulling a long, black viscose dress over my body.

The material is soft and floats around my skin like a gentle breeze.

I can’t bear to wear clothes in this heat.

This is the softest, most forgiving fabric in the midday heat.

My new book is on my nightstand. The bright purple cover is edged with gold and the embossed image of a beautiful green dragon. I grab it and, clutching it to my chest, then head back downstairs, ready to get lost in the story.

On my way past my brother’s office, I hear voices.

I recognize Rigor Milov, one of our family’s allies.

His voice is smooth and dark, carrying easily into the hallway.

“A marriage is a sure-fire way to establish an alliance. Currently, it’s too unstable.

We need security. A show of sorts to send a clear message,” he says, peaking every fiber of curiosity inside me.

A marriage? I pause outside the door, tilting my head to the side as my interest heightens. Who is getting married?

“But you just said you don’t like the idea of a Shevchenko marrying an Abashin. Make up your mind.” My brother sounds annoyed. His patience is being tested. I am very familiar with that tone. I hear Matvei groan loudly. “This isn’t something we can agree to,” he says.

I should leave, but my bare feet are glued to the wooden floors, unable to move, unable to walk away. I press my body closer to the wall and take another step toward the door, staying out of sight.

Rigor sighs. “I know it’s not ideal, but what other options do we have?

The Milov and Abashin families are still stuck in animosity with the Shevchenkos, and without resolving this animosity, the alliance will never be fully accepted.

I don’t think we have a choice in the matter.

Those Popov scum are still causing trouble; they aren’t going anywhere any time soon, and we need to make a stand against them.

One that is unquestionable.” I hear someone pacing up and down the office, heavy boots against wooden floors, echoing through the space.

“But marriage…it’s asking a lot,” Oleg remarks.

“Let’s rather plan an attack on those arrogant Popov idiots.

With our alliance, we have enough force to make a statement that way,” Diomid says gruffly, always willing to rush in headfirst. I swear he’d destroy this family within seconds if he were in charge.

He hardly ever thinks things through, and his ideas always involve blowing things up.

Rigor plays the voice of reason. “We can’t just start a war, Diomid. Yes, we have a show of force, but as I mentioned, it’s a rocky alliance. I don’t think the Shevchenkos would exactly jump at the opportunity to fight at our side. The alliance…”

“The alliance is strained,” Oleg huffs. “We all know that.”

The pacing stops for a moment.

“Alright, so who exactly is supposed to marry whom?” Matvei snaps.

My weight shifts from one foot to the other. They want to marry someone from my family to someone from the Shevchenko family. Just the name sets my heart racing.

Jaroslav. I shake my head, dislodging the hurtful memories that flood my mind.

Memories that twist through my body like tentacles, pulling at me, aching somewhere deep inside. Swallowing hard, I focus on the conversation happening in my brother’s office.

Rigor speaks: “I’ve spoken with Jaroslav and he tells me that his brother, Zakhar, is willing to marry your sister, Valery.”

For a moment, the silence from inside the room is a stone-cold replica of the shock in my heart. Me?

My heart beats slowly and heavily. I can’t seem to catch my breath.

Me?

I mean, it makes sense. It would be me or my little sister, Nikita. I’m older. It should be me.

Biting at my lip, my brows are furrowed, and my heart shifts from an achingly slow beat to a racing, wild rhythm just as my oldest brother shouts in protest.

“Not a fucking chance. This is too real, too personal,” Matvei snarls.

“This is the Bratva way,” Rigor argues.

“You are talking about our sister,” he snarls.

“I’m talking about your whole family. The alliance. Our Bratva family.” Rigor is shouting, too. “This is bigger than just you or me. This involves everything.”

Silence again, heavier than before, before Diomid interrupts it.

“He has a point,” Diomid sighs. “This is about something bigger.”

“Shut up, Diomid,” Matvei snaps. “Since when did you worry about the politics of it all?”

“Guys, we need to calm down,” Timofey says.

But instead of calming down, they launch into a more intense argument.

The longer I listen, the more I realize that my family really needs this marriage to happen.

My brothers are trying to protect me, but even as they fight about it, they know it too.

They must know. Everything relies on the security of the alliance.

The currently very rocky alliance. The one that needs to be established through marriage.

A sickening twist knots my stomach as I step into the office.

“I’ll do it,” I say over their voices.

No one hears me, so I clench my fists, building courage, and speak louder. “I’ll do it,” I say again.

Five men turn to look at me, my four brothers all in disbelief, and Rigor, his brows raised in surprise. “You’ll agree to the marriage?” he asks.

“Like hell she will.” Timofey snaps. “She doesn’t know what she’s agreeing to.”

“Of course I do,” I huff. “I wasn’t born yesterday.

This is a business arrangement. A marriage on paper for the sake of the family.

I’ll sign the documents, make a show of it, and it’ll be over.

I can still spend most of my time here, with you guys, at home.

I don’t have to fake it the entire time, just events and such.

And you know it makes sense. The alliance and all.

” I stand my ground and speak clearly. Even if they don’t want to accept it, I want to do something for my family.

It’s my turn to make a sacrifice for the people I love.

“Valery, honestly, you have no idea what you’re saying.” Timofey sighs, shaking his head as he stands to walk toward me. I hold my hand up to stop him. He folds his broad arms over his chest and glares at me.