Arranged Bratva Love

Lottie

OneWeek Later

I was still in his penthouse apartment. Ive hadn’t made the decision to go back to his country home. Now, I liked boredom, I really did, but this was a little too much. I’d wake up and Ive wouldn’t be there. We didn’t share a bedroom. Even though I had filled the closet opposite where his clothes were, he’d taken the second bedroom, and I slept in this one. Even though I knew it was his bedroom. So, every morning I woke up alone.

Hubert was always in the apartment. There was always a package from thelocal bakery with a fresh cinnamon roll and a hot coffee. They were nice, but I wasn’t a big fan of cinnamon. By the end of the seventh day, I looked at the cinnamon roll and knew I was going to be sick if I ate it again.

“Do you want it?” I asked Hubert.

“It’s your breakfast.”

“But I don’t like it and if you don’t eat it, then I’m going to throw it in the trash.” Which sounded like a perfectly good waste of food.

“You’ve eaten it every single day.”

“Because the first day it was sweet of him to do so, and then the second. But I can’t eat that much cinnamon. I’m going to throw up.”

He chuckled.

“Fine.”

“You’re laughing.”

“Mr. Yahontov thought you liked cinnamon rolls, which is why he kept buying them for you.”Owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Is there any food in the kitchen?” I handed the wrapped package to Hubert.

“What about the coffee?” he asked.

“I’ll drink the coffee.” I took a sip of the liquid and it was so good. So, so, so good. Walking through to the kitchen, I started to open cupboards and there was nothing there. “No food?”

“Mr. Yahontov eats out.”

I groan. I’m starving.

“Then I guess we’re eating out.” I’d not left the apartment without Ive since we got here. I missed Michael. Imissed his country home. I hated the city. I hated sitting all day watching television with nothing to do but twiddle my thumbs. It wasn’t fun.

Stepping past Hubert, I reached for my jacket and he suddenly stepped in front of me, a cell phone in his hand.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“We don’t have permission to leave.”

“What?”Hubert put the cell phone to his ear. I couldn’t believe this. “Am I a prisoner here?”

I shouldn’t be surprised. I’d been kidnapped by the Volkov Bratva and now I was pissed off. I thought the prisoner status left when I was married to one of them. I wasn’t stupid. There was no way I was going to run off to the police. Even though I’d been kidnapped, thrown in a cell, drugged, and well, moved to another cell, the irony was they had been nice to me. How crazy was that?

Back home with my father and his MC club, I had allthe freedom in the world. I could come and go as I pleased. Even after he’d beaten me, no one did anything. They all feared him. Did I actually have more freedom back then? I know I’m messed up. The beatings, the constant abuse, but I had locked it all in a box. A slap from my father got pushed into a box. The beatings, each one got pushed into that box. It made life a lot easier to keep everything locked away. None of those memories or time with the Volkov Bratva had been placed in my protective box.

Pushing those thoughts from my mind, I looked at Hubert as he put the cell phone to his ear. I step back and take a deep breath.

Am Ia prisoner? Are they still planning to kill me?

I don’t listen to Hubert as he talks to who I assume is my husband. I’m still in shock that I can’t just leave when I want to.

I am a prisoner.

I thought about the cell phone Rage had tried to give to me and what Iconfessed to Ivan. Should I have kept it? Would it have been able to grant me my freedom?”We can go,” Hubert said.

I ignore him, but follow as he takes the lead. Hubert isn’t my bodyguard. He’s my prison guard. We step onto the elevator, and I watch himclick the bottom button to take us to the underground parking lot. I go through the motions as he opens the car door and sits in the back. I take a seat, and put the seat belt on before he’s even gotten behind the wheel. He doesn’t ask where I want to go, but within seconds, we’re out of the building and joining the many cars congesting the roads. Neither of us talks as he navigates the traffic.

I’m a prisoner.

For seven days I’d been locked up in the penthouse apartment, waiting for Ive to return home. Each night, he wanted me ready at seven, and we went to different restaurants each evening. My favorite so far had been the Mexican one. I loved the food, the spice, the sensuous atmosphere. Ive never showed a preference. Each night, he ordered our food. He’d change the drinks from wine or beer to whiskey and water. Some nights he didn’t drink the whiskey. I had to wonder if it was a bad day at the office when he did.

Stuff had to be happening. He was part of the Volkov Bratva. You don’t get ignored all your life without hearing bad stuff about a lot of people.

Hubert brought the car to a small cafe. It looked rathersweet and quaint. Not a place I would have thought the Volkov Bratva owned.

He climbed out of the car and opened my door for me. I stepped out beside him, aware of his hand going toward his waist. He had a gun there. I’d seen it a few times, but then I knew what I was looking for.

Stepping into the cafe, Hubert stopped me from sitting near the window, and instead took me far from the windows, near thebathroom. Great. The one place no one wants to sit, and that was where he put me. I wanted to complain, but I just didn’t have it in me.

Picking up the menu, I saw there were mostly breakfast items. I wasn’t on a diet, so I was going to order hash browns, bacon, mushrooms, and a few grilled tomatoes. It was a breakfast I couldn’t wait to enjoy.

Hubert tookmy order and approached the counter. Sitting back in my chair, he returned with a couple of cups of coffee. He placed one in front of me, and took a seat opposite. This was new. Hubert didn’t do anything with me. He rarely spoke to me, even back at the country home. I think he tolerated me.

“If I walked out of this cafe, would you follow me?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“If I tried to run away, would you stop me?”

Hubert frowned and nodded.

“Have you been toldto kill me if I approach a police officer?”

“I cannot kill you.”

“Would that be Ive’s job?” I asked.

Hubert’s frown deepened.

If I wasn’t so hungry, I’d demand he take me back to the penthouse suite, or better yet, back to the country house where I could pretend to be free. I felt tears fill my eyes, and I quickly glanced down at the table. I felt anger. No, I felt rage. The rings on my finger were nothing but a joke.

The waitress Hubert had spoken to brought us our food. I was about to tell her to takeit back, but the scent of the hash browns and bacon was too good. I wouldn’t eat it all, I promised myself. Fifteen minutes later, the breakfast was finished, and I did eat bread and butter. I was that hungry. However, my rage hadn’t dissipated.

“Take me to Ive,” I said to Hubert. “Crap, how do I pay?” I had no money.”It’s already paid for. This is owned by Mr. Yahontov.”

“Of course it is. Well, my order still stands. Take me to him.” That felt so stupid to say, ordering my prison guard to take me to my captor. The one I’m freaking married to.

I shouldn’t bepissed off, but I am. No, not just pissed off, I’m angry and upset. This time I don’t wait for Hubert to open the car door, I do that all by myself, because I am capable.

Sitting in the back seat, I watch as Hubert sits behind the wheel.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked.

“Take me to my husband.” I don’t care where he is, but I need to talk to him. No, that’s wrong. I need to yell at him.

My hands clenched into fists. It’d been a long time since I felt this angry, but I needed that. I didn’t want to be a prisoner. I thought after getting married and swearing my loyalty to Ivan Volkov, all of this would be over and I’d be free. The fact I had more freedom with my father was a joke. That man had … I didn’t even want to think about it.

I didn’t know how long the journey took, but we arrived at some kind of casino. My anger had subsided, but I was still annoyed, only now it was mixed with sickness.

Hubertparked the car around the back, and before he’d even put on the hand brake, I climbed out and headed toward the entrance. Hubert caught up with me and placed a hand at the base of my back.

“Mrs. Yahontov, youmust be careful.”

“My name’s Charlotte, or Lottie. Either of those will do just fine.” I didn’t feel like a Yahontov. I wasn’t a wife. A wife didn’t have to ask permission to go anywhere. They were not prisoners.

I notice Hubert tried to shield me as we stepped into the main casino, and he moved me toward the elevator.

“I’m not a child. You don’t have to hide the dangerous gambling from me.” I felt like a damn child with the way he treated me.

I was a full-grown woman. Okay, I was eighteen, and I knew that to many that made me a child, but I had never felt like a child. I’d never had childish experiences. Growing up afraid of making silly noises or attracting too much attention would do that to you, and that’s exactly what happened to me.

Again, I pushed those thoughts aside as Hubert clicked the button and the elevator moved up. I saw the lights change as we traveled toward the top floor. What was it about my husband and being at the top floor of everything? Was it a status thing? It was a good thing I wasn’t afraid of heights. Steppingfrom the elevator, we passed several more guards, none of which I recognized. Then Hubert knocked on the door, and I heard Ive’s request for us to enter. The moment we entered Ive’s office, Hubert stepped out of my way, and I looked at my husband. He was sitting behind his desk, and he looked in complete control. He also didn’t look surprised to see us. Hubert had told him I was coming.

“Leave us,” Ive said.

My prison guard didn’t put up much of a fight. He stepped out of the office and closed the door. Where was my anger? I wanted it back. This would have been a hell of a lot easier with it.

“You wanted to see me, Charlotte,” he said.

He didn’t get up from behind his desk. He sat back in his chair, and I saw the band on his finger that declared him my husband.

“Am Ia prisoner?” I asked.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Ive smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

In the back of my mind, that old reliable voice that had been a waste of time against my father, tried to yell at me to stop being angry, to stop making stupid accusations, and to just calm down. I never ignored the voice back then, and I followed her advice. The beatings I got, the slaps, the pain-I should have totally ignored her.

Glaring at Ive, I folded my arms across my chest.

“I can’t go anywhere without Hubert asking you. I’m locked in that apartment and if it’s not at the apartment, it’s your home. There is no freedom. I’m your wife and I have sworn loyalty to Ivan Volkov but I’m still a prisoner. Why? Why marry me? Are you going to kill me? Is this some stupid messed up play to take out Rage? To take out the Evil Savages MC? Why not just do it? Why do this?”

My heart started to race, and I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to stop but there was a pesky problem. I wanted answers a whole lot more.

Ive got up from his place behind the desk. He seemed a lot taller than I remembered, which was crazy, seeingas I just saw him last night. I stood next to him, and even last night, he’d kissed my cheek. I’d loved that, him kissing my cheek, which was so stupid.

Pressing my lips together, I looked at him and waited.

“You think Ivan Volkov and myself have time for these elaborate games?” Ive asked. “That we would arrange this marriage, pay all the unnecessary expense, to just kill you?”

“Why not? You’re the Volkov Bratva. You can do whatever the hell you want.”

“That is true. Ivan can do whatever he wants, and no, Charlotte, you are not a prisoner. You are my wife. If you were my prisoner, you’d be locked away in a cage, and trust me, I wouldn’t be suggesting the cafe for Hubert to take you. You are the wife of a Brigadier. That makes you a very valuable asset. Your life comes with a bigger price now. Hubert is your guard. He is responsible for your life. If you die on his watch, he will die. If you are hurt in any way, he will die. You have the same freedoms as other wives, and trust me, that is not a lot. Everywhere you go will be monitored by our enemies, by anyone who’s looking for a sign of weakness.” He took a step toward me. Each one he took brought him closer.

I didn’t step back.

“And so, if that is what you think makes you a prisoner, then so be it, that’s exactly what you are. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe, but if you would like to experience life as my prisoner once again, say the word, and I will show you the difference.”I heard the threat, but the truth was, I was kind of focused on something else he said.

“You told Hubert the cafe I should eatat?” I asked.

Ive frowned. “They have the best hash browns. I wanted to see what you thought of them.”

And just like that, my anger evaporated. He wasn’t keeping me prisoner. He was taking care of me.

“I loved the hash browns and the bacon. Also the mushrooms.”

The smile that didn’t reach his eyes before, finally did. I liked making him smile.