Bratva Bride (Bratva, #1)

by T.J. Maguire

She reminded me of a kitten; a vicious little thing that, when threatened, would rip you to shreds with her teeth and claws. Oh, I had no doubt that she was dangerous. Lethal. The fact that she could throw a knife with such speed and precision proved it. But that’s what made her so captivating. All the women in the famiglia were timid, docile, boring. They weren’t anything like her. And I was supposed to marry one of them?

Even that stupid fucker at the back—Maxim. I saw how he looked at her with hunger and desire. His eyes never left her body the entire time we were in that fucking room, and it took everything in me not to march over there and shove my gun down his throat. He might not have known it, but the second Illayana walked into that room, she was mine.

His tattoos ran from his wrists all the way up his arms, snaking out over his chest, down his torso, and around his back, entwining together to form a beautiful piece of artwork; a complex design of patterns and swirls. I was dying to run my hands along that body, to trace his intricate tattoos with my hands. Or my tongue. Definitely my tongue.

There was a brief moment of silence, and then a deep, terrifying roar hit the air as Aleksandr pounced on Maxim and started hammering into him, his fists connecting with his face over and over again. Blood dripped down Maxim’s face, making a pool of blood on the floor beside him. Lukyan looked at me and mouthed, “What the fuck?

Lololol

He grunted as his body hit the floor, the ground shaking from the impact. I straddled his large frame and pulled a blade from the sheath around my waist, holding it to his throat.

“Ya ze govoril, chto scoro uvidimsya, kotenok.” I told you I would see you soon, kitten. His deep, sexy voice said it in perfect Russian. Arturo fucking De Luca.

I dug my knife a little further into his throat, a faint trickle of blood starting to drip down his neck. He arched one of those perfect eyebrows—I didn’t even know how someone could have perfect eyebrows, but he fucking did—and that cocky expression stayed plastered on his face. It was like he was enjoying it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I hissed. “Isn’t it obvious, kotenok?” kitten. He chuckled, those gorgeous eyes of his staring me down. “I’m here for you.”

“I’m fine!” I yelled back. My eyes darted down to the sexy male beneath me, and he winked at me, mouthing, “Yes, you are.

Ahhhhhh

“I told you, I’m fine!” I growled. “Now fuck off before I fire again. This time I won’t miss!” “She’s fucking mental!” Lukyan yelled. “What Volkov isn’t?” Nikolai replied, his voice fading until the only sounds I could hear were Arturo’s breathing and my heart beating.

Lmaooooooo

“You want what every Mafia man wants: a woman who worships the ground you walk on. A woman who will do what you say, when you say it. A woman who won’t argue with you, who will be content waiting at home day in and day out for you.” I stopped dead in front of him, letting him process my words. I leaned in slightly and whispered, “That’s not me.”

“I don’t want a docile woman, a weak woman. I want a queen. A woman to help me conquer and rule. A woman who will stand by my side, not cower behind me.”

“I’ve never seen a woman—a beautiful woman, at that—throw a knife with such precision.”

“I knew from that moment that you were the one I’ve been looking for.” He smirked. I frowned. “So, you’re telling me all it took was for me to throw a knife at your brother for you to decide to spend the rest of your life with me?” I hoped he could hear the skepticism in my voice. “Any woman in the Bratva could do that.” He tsked and placed my knife back inside his suit jacket.

“No, kotenok, that’s not all it took. There are many things about you that helped sway my decision.” “Oh, yeah? Like what?” “I never pegged you as the type of woman who fishes for compliments.”

Ahhh hes so sassy

“I won’t be an easy wife, you know. I’ll probably drive you mad,”

“I hate being told what to do, and I despise being underestimated. I know La Cosa Nostra is not used to women being in the life. I can guarantee you, your men won’t like me around.”

“I don’t give a fuck what any of ...

“Nevertheless, I won’t tolerate it. I will not be disrespected. Should any of your men do so, I hope ...

“If any of my men disrespect you, there’ll be nothing left of them by the time I’m finished.”

“Her name is Gabriella. She’s the daughter of one of the high-ranking men in the famiglia.” Eh, Gabriella. Bet the bitch is fucking gorgeous. “So she’s a Cosa Nostra woman? Does that mean there’s gonna be people pissed that you’re marrying an outsider instead of her?”

“A business one means we’re husband and wife on paper, but not in real life. A personal one means that in every sense of the word, we’re husband and wife. That means loyalty, fidelity. I know Mafia men have the predilection to do whatever the fuck they like, including cheating on their partners. I won’t take that. You marry me and you’re mine. You don’t go sticking your dick in other bitches.” He chuckled and tapped my nose. “So just this bitch?” “Yes.”

With one final tug on my earlobe, he released me, pulling away from my body. I missed the contact instantly. “So, will you be my wife?” he asked seductively, his eyes filled with desire.

Fuck. She’s beautiful. And fierce. And sassy. And—shit, my foot is killing me! Did she have to stab me so fucking hard? Well, you did kind of attack her.

I wasn’t lying when I said I needed sex. It was something I would do every day, even if it meant a quick powwow with one of the random women in my little black book. My life being so full of violence and adrenaline meant I needed a good outlet to unleash it all, and sex was the best one.

I was a dominant fucker in bed. Not Christian Grey dominant, but a different kind. The kind that craved control, liked to give orders. I knew it, the women I fucked knew it, and it was important that Illayana knew it too. Judging by her reaction to me, she didn’t just know it—she liked it.

Man, he really was a big motherfucker. And he had to be just as tall as me, if not a smidgen more—just a smidgen, though. His bright blue eyes landed on Illayana, scrutinizing every detail. Then his gaze swept the room behind her. His eyes moved over me in the shadows, and I tensed.

The edge of his lips curved into an evil smirk—the first sign of true emotion I’d seen from the guy yet. His body moved gracefully, revealing her two other brothers. Fuck. They breed them big in the Bratva.

All of them seemed to be around the same height, give or take a few inches. It was clear Aleksandr was the oldest, though. Even if I ignored the dude’s gargantuan size, he had a certain air about him.

Based on the information Vin had gathered on the Volkov family, the one with shoulder-length dark hair and blue eyes was Lukyan. He wasn’t as muscular as Aleksandr—but still, the guy was solid. That made the other brother Nikolai. He had short black hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and

“Aleksandr, Nikolai, Lukyan,” Illayana began, her voice strong and clear. “I’d like to introduce you to Arturo De Luca, my fiancé.” She reached back and grabbed my arm, moving me to stand beside her.

“Oh, yeah? And what the fuck are you going to do about it?” Lukyan mocked. He took a step forward, copying Arturo, closing the empty space between them entirely. They stood toe to toe, neither one backing down. I looked to Aleksandr, who was standing next to Nikolai, off to the side. They had both moved out of the danger zone when shit started to get heated. He didn’t seem fazed by the new turn of events though. Nope, not at all. Actually, if I didn’t know better, I’d say the fucker was excited.

Hot lmao

“If you weren’t Illayana’s brother, and killing you wouldn’t incite a war, I’d slit your fucking throat,” Arturo growled. Lukyan took a step backward, his eyes flashing with excitement. He had a broad smile on his face as he tucked his gun away, reached into his pocket and pulled out a blade instead.

He twirled the blade around his fingers—something he always did when he was excited. “Come on, big boy, let’s dance.”

Lukyan stiffened, sensing the dark presence my father exuded as he came up behind him. He cursed in Russian as he put his knife back in its sheath. Lukyan did not look happy to have been interrupted, but then again, he’d always been that way. You told the kid not to do something, and it was all he wanted to do.

Lukyan scowled at Arturo, giving him the middle finger as he walked away. Arturo chuckled. “I like him,” he whispered in my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

If Tati thought you were wrong, she told you. If she thought you were acting crazy, she told you. If she thought you weren’t acting crazy enough, she told you. And she didn’t care if she offended you in the process. She didn’t have a filter, was unceremoniously blunt, and always spoke her mind. I loved it.

Tati looked like a delicate little angel, but anyone who knew her knew she was the complete opposite.

Tatiana placed her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand, staring off into the distance with a dreamy expression. “The younger one. Vincenzo. He’s gorgeous. I’d let him fuck me any way he liked, and wouldn’t even care if he didn’t call me back the next day.” “Well, who knows, maybe you’ll get your wish. You’ll see him at the wedding.”

Speak of the devil. “Nik, hey. What are you doing here?” Tatiana stiffened slightly and looked up from her phone, glaring at my brother. Nikolai locked eyes with her, and sexual tension crackled in the air between them. They both looked away at the same time.

Ooop

Nikolai scowled at her. “You shouldn’t be running at night. It’s dangerous.” Tatiana smiled brightly, but it looked forced, fake. “And?” “What do you mean, and? It’s not safe, so don’t do it.” “You’re not the boss of me, big guy. I’ll do what I want.”

“Off ya go, before daddy gets mad.” Nikolai growled deeply, his jaw clenched and teeth grinding against each other. “Tatiana⁠—”

“I think it’s none of your business what she does,” I said, walking around the car to the passenger’s side. I arched an eyebrow. “Why do you care anyway?” He didn’t answer, just grumbled under his breath and got into the car.

Adrian Alexeev, my father’s main bodyguard. He was tall—pushing 6’5, I’d say—and built like a pro football player. He had short black hair and deep brown eyes. He had a scar that started a few inches above his left eyebrow, running down to just underneath his eye. It gave off a real Scar from The Lion King vibe.

The other man, I had never met before, and I was sure of it. He was a bit shorter than Adrian, but he looked just as deadly. He had neatly styled blond hair and blue eyes. His nose was slightly crooked, like it had been broken several times. He was dressed similarly to Adrian: black pants, black dress shirt.

My father placed the papers he was reading down on the desk and looked at me. “These are your new bodyguards.” He nodded to the two men in the room. “They’re to go everywhere you go. You know Adrian, and this is Lorenzo from the Cosa Nostra. Arturo sent him to be your other guard.”

My father had taught me how to protect myself. Taught me how to use a gun and a knife. Taught me hand-to-hand combat. For years, I had trained every day, honing those skills until I became just as good as my brothers. If my brothers could walk around without any guards, I didn’t see why I needed them.

Knowing Lukyan, he’d take all four of them head-on without using his gun because the fucker liked to fight with his hands. It wouldn’t be the first time. Lukyan only used his gun in dire circumstances. He was a knife man.

“Quien es la puta ahora?” Who’s the whore now? I said in Spanish, my lips curving into a smile. Before he could respond, I picked up my foot and drove my spiked heel deep into his throat.

The last man remaining ran forward, trying to catch Lukyan off guard. Not on my fucking watch. I threw my knife hard, aiming for the fucker. It flew through the air and struck him in the head, directly between the eyes. Knife throwing was one of my best skills.