Claimed by the Bratva: A Dark Mafia Romance (Bratva Brotherhood Book 3) Read online

  Claimed by the Bratva

  Bianca Cole

  Claimed by the Bratva Copyright © 2020 Bianca Cole

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Book cover design by Hot and Steamy Romance Premades

  Contents

  Free Book Offer

  Blurb

  1. Miron

  2. Sofia

  3. Miron

  4. Sofia

  5. Miron

  6. Sofia

  7. Miron

  8. Sofia

  9. Miron

  10. Sofia

  11. Miron

  12. Sofia

  13. Miron

  14. Sofia

  15. Miron

  16. Sofia

  17. Miron

  18. Sofia

  19. Miron

  20. Sofia

  21. Epilogue

  Mailing List

  Also by Bianca Cole

  About the Author

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  Blurb

  I’m a pakhan’s daughter, and the man I love is his most trusted advisor.

  A man twice my age, and the sovietnik to my father. A man who looks at me with fierce hunger that drives me wild.

  When he learns of my arranged marriage to the son of another pakhan, everything changes.

  He tells me I’m his. He tells me he won’t let me marry anyone else. He tells me he’d start a war for me.

  The problem is, our feelings really could start a war.

  Will we survive or perish in the flames of our desire?

  1

  Miron

  I grit my teeth together, before ringing the bell to the mansion my pakhan calls home. He has summoned me here for dinner tonight without so much as an explanation, other than he has important business we need to discuss.

  Luka was my best friend back in Russia, but in the past few years, we’ve drifted apart. He is egotistical and has lost sight of the goals we used to share.

  The front door opens, and Kala, his maid, ushers me inside. “Sir, Mr. Romanov is waiting for you in the dining room.” She nods her head down the corridor. “Would you like me to escort you there?”

  I shake my head. “No, I know the way.”

  She bows her head as I walk down the corridor. The first thing I noticed when I drove the drive was Sofia’s car. She’s in—which means she will be dining with us. It’s just my damn luck.

  The woman who haunts my dreams. I’ve wanted her ever since she turned eighteen two years ago. She had been sent away at fifteen years old to study abroad. At the time, she was nothing more than an awkward teenage kid who I saw as a niece, even if we’re not related.

  When she returned on her eighteenth birthday, she was no longer a girl, but a beautiful woman. We had been close before she left, and shared similar interests.

  When she returned, something inside of me shifted. I didn’t feel the same toward her as before. My attraction to her stood in the way of what we once had.

  It has been difficult for me to control my untamable urges, so instead, I try to keep a wide birth. Luka’s insistence on my dining with him and his family tonight makes that impossible. Since he is my pakhan, my only choice is to obey.

  I knock the door, which is ajar, wondering if she will be in the dining room already.

  “Come in,” Luka calls out.

  I open the door to see him standing with his son Yerik, pouring him a glass of scotch whiskey. My nerves settle as one glance around the room reveals she’s not here, yet. A sudden anxiety grips hold of me, as I know Yerik and her father can be cruel to her. I wonder why she’s not here.

  “Miron, you need not knock,” Luka muses, pouring another glass of scotch and walking toward me. He passes it into my hand. “Thank you for coming at such short notice.” His eyes sparkle with amusement, as he knows I couldn’t refuse.

  I nod. “Is it just the three of us this evening?” I ask, unable to tame the curiosity as to where Sofia is.

  Yerik approaches. “No, the bitch will be here soon, if she can find her way,” he quips.

  My muscles coil, and I’m on edge the moment he calls her that. Sofia is the kindest woman I’ve ever met. I hate hearing her brother degrade her. Even so, I have to hold my tongue. If I say anything, it will not only elude to my true feelings for her, but I’d be stepping out of line.

  Yerik is an asshole. He has been ever since he was a little kid, but in recent years he’s got far worse. It seems the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Luka has always been a bit of an asshole, but the older he gets, the worse he gets. It seems it is a pattern Romanov men like to follow.

  “Now, Yerik, that’s not the way to speak about your sister, is it?” Luka asks, but the smirk on his lips suggests he finds it amusing.

  I grit my teeth together in an attempt to calm myself down. Sofia makes me crazy with possessiveness, which can be difficult around her family. The sound of heels clicking on the marble floor outside sends my heart rate through the roof.

  Sofia.

  I swallow hard, knowing I’m about to have my willpower put to the test. The last time I had to endure dinner with the Romanovs was almost impossible.

  Anytime I’m close to Sofia, I’m hard. Not to mention, anytime her brother even looks at her the wrong way, I’m on the edge of blowing a fuse.

  The knock at the door sounds, and I keep my back turned to the door.

  “Come in, Sofia,” Luka calls out.

  The clack of heels echoing on the wood floor of the dining room is loud, and I still can’t bring myself to turn.

  “Come and say hello to Uncle Miron,” Luka says, setting my nerves on edge. I hate the way he calls me that. My feelings for her are not familial at all, not anymore.

  “He’s not my uncle,” she replies, walking closer to me.

  I turn to face her and smile, doing my best to keep my urges in check. “Good evening, Sofia,” I say, taking her hand in mine and kissing the back of it gently.

  Her bright blue eyes widen, and then her cheeks stain dark pink. “Evening,” she mutters, averting my gaze.

  “Now we’re all here, let us eat,” Yerik whines.

  Luka claps his hands. “Indeed, take a seat.”

  Sofia’s gaze meets mine again, and it’s not until she clears her throat that I realize I’m still holding her hand.

  I drop it and nod toward the table, laden with far too much food. My old friend seems to think it’s a show of wealth and power to be wasteful, and I have to disagree.
Luka sits at the head of the table, with his son, Yerik, to the left of him.

  “Miron, sit here,” Luka commands, pointing at the seat to his right.

  Sofia sits down in the seat next to mine, and my heart pounds even harder. It’s difficult enough being in the same room as her, let alone sitting next to her. I clench my fists and take the seat, trying not to breathe too deeply as her scent of vanilla and blueberries is intoxicating.

  I keep my jaw clenched. Her presence is enough to send my blood pressure through the roof. I don’t dine too often with the Romanov family, but when I do, it’s a fucking physical struggle because of the sweet, innocent girl beside me.

  “Miron, dig in,” Luka orders, noticing I’ve yet to serve myself any food.

  I reluctantly fork some meat and potatoes onto my plate despite not wanting to eat. Anytime I’m close to Sofia, my stomach turns to knots. It’s also taking all my concentration to keep my cock from turning to stone.

  If Luka were to learn of the feelings I had for his daughter, he would string me up. We may have been best friends once, but that was before he turned into a complete jackass. For years now, I’ve wished I could leave my post as his sovietnik—he is not the man he once was. The problem is, you don’t resign from the brotherhood. The only way out is death or to run.

  I steal a glance to my left at Sofia. She’s picking at her food and keeping her head bowed. Her cheeks are still stained pink.

  While her eyes remain focused elsewhere, I take in her perfect body. She had to wear a fucking revealing, cock-stirring tight gold dress with a plunging neckline. Her full, firm breasts on display to me, making my dick strain in my tight boxer briefs.

  I bite my lip and look away, trying not to let out the groan that wants to escape my lips. I’m turned on—too fucking turned on.

  “What do you think, Miron?” Luka asks.

  I shake my head. “About what?”

  Luka rolls his eyes. “Weren’t you listening? We were discussing what punishment to give Osyen. Do you have any suggestions?”

  Osyen is a part of our brotherhood, and he fucked up while watching one of our drug operations. Somehow, a competing crime gang in the area managed to steal our entire haul—over twenty million dollars worth of cocaine.

  I don’t understand why they’re even discussing punishment options. All of us know the guy won’t be alive come next week. The punishment in Luka’s brotherhood for something like that is always death. “I’m not sure, but I’m confident you and Yerik will come up with a perfectly suitable punishment.”

  Sofia shifts uncomfortably in her chair. I desperately want to speak to her, but I daren’t utter a word yet. If I were to look too eager in front of Luka, he might suspect something. His constant insistance that I’m like her uncle suggests he has no idea of my true feelings for her.

  Luka claps his hands. “It’s settled then. Amari will love to punish him, I’m sure.”

  A shiver runs down my spine. Amari is Luka’s pet leopard, and he keeps him locked up in the basement, starving. The only time he gets food is when Luka decides to feed his enemies or own brotherhood men to him.

  Yerik turns his attention to Sofia and glares at her in a way that makes me want to grab him by the neck and pummel him. The guy is a cowardly asshole who loves picking on women. I’d like to see how he fares up against a man. “Maybe one day, we can feed the bitch to him.” His eyes narrow.

  Luka reaches out and pats Yerik on the arm. “You can’t mean your sister. Yes, she’s a burden at times, but she will fetch a handsome reward in turn for her hand in marriage.”

  Sofia glances up with glazed eyes and glares at Yerik. “I am here, you know. Why are you talking about me as if I’m a thing instead of a person?” she asks, her voice as calm as ever. The pull to grab her hand and console her tugs at me, but I can’t move.

  No matter what they put her through, she’s always calm. I’ve never heard her raise her voice once.

  “Don’t overstep, or I’ll make you regret it,” Yerik says, grabbing the hilt of his knife and drawing it from the sheath attached to his belt. He points the tip toward her. “Do you understand?”

  Luka watches on, allowing his son to threaten her in such a disrespectful way. All I want to do right now is disarm him and slit his scrawny little throat with his knife. He’s a sorry excuse for a man. I know if I told Luka how I felt about him or his son, I’d be the next person fed to Amari.

  Pride rises in my chest as Sofia just glares back at him, not answering.

  “Answer me, bitch,” he spits.

  Luka speaks, breaking the tension. “Enough of this nonsense. Yerik put the knife away and eat your food.”

  Reluctantly, Yerik sheaths his knife and returns his attention to his plate. Even he isn’t stupid enough to defy his father.

  “Sorry you had to witness that, Miron,” he says, smirking. He’s not sorry in the slightest, and he knows I hate how they treat Sofia. He revels in other people’s discomfort. I’m no different.

  I keep eating, hoping that somehow I make it out of this house without attempting to kill them. Sofia doesn’t deserve enduring the hate of her family day in and day out. Yet, I’m powerless to save her. My position makes it almost impossible to steal her away as my own—no matter how much I want to.

  2

  Sofia

  His deep voice rumbles from the dining room, making my heart rate pick up.

  Miron.

  My father’s sovietnik and most trusted advisor is here. I slow down my pace, feeling my stomach turn over at the thought of facing him. Father told me we would have a guest for dinner, but as always, I’m never told who.

  He insisted I had to look my best, which makes no sense considering Miron is like family—at least to my father. Thank God he did tell me to dress well, though. I long to impress the man who I’ve known since I was a child.

  He’s the man I’ve been secretly in love with for as long as I can remember. Bratva brotherhoods are essentially a family, but Miron is close to my father in particular. They’ve known each other since they lived in Russia.

  I quicken my pace, feeling excited to see the muscle-bound, silver fox who has been at the center of my dreams for years. He’s more than twice my age, at forty-five years old. He has dark brown hair peppered with grey and built like a man half of his age.

  I can feel my cheeks heat thinking about him. My footsteps quicken as I get closer to the dining room, but the door is only slightly ajar. I knock on it and wait, knowing my father wouldn’t accept me entering without knocking. He’s always quick to remind me of my place in this family.

  “Come in, Sofia,” my father calls.

  I enter the room, and like a moth to a flame, my eyes find him instantly. He is wearing a dark navy, pinstripe suit that hugs his broad, muscled back. The man is always impeccably dressed, particularly for a member of the brotherhood.

  My mouth dries as I walk closer to him, dreading the moment those piercing hazel eyes meet mine. Every time he looks at me, I fall to pieces. I know tonight will be no different. All the daydreams and fantasies I have of looking him in the eyes and telling him the truth are so far from reality.

  “Come and say hello to Uncle Miron,” Father says, drawing my eyes to him for the first time since I stepped into the room. I glare at the man who constantly taunts and ridicules me. I hate that he calls him Uncle Miron. We’re not related, even if he is like a brother to my father.

  “He’s not my uncle,” I grit out.

  My father chuckles, as I approach Miron. He hasn’t even turned around yet. I’m so insignificant to him. I swallow hard as it hurts how much he doesn’t pay any regard to me.

  Once I’m close to him, he finally turns and smiles the most stunning smile. It stops me in my tracks and makes my heart beat harder.

  Before I can open my mouth, he speaks, “Good evening, Sofia.” He grabs my hand, sending shock waves racing through my veins. It feels like he has shot me with electric with one touch—something he
never usually does.

  I watch as he brings the back of my hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to the skin there. Heat blazes from that spot all around my body, making me tingle with need. He holds my gaze intensely.

  “Evening,” I mutter, averting my gaze. It’s impossible to keep staring into those stunning eyes without exploding into flames. This is how I always feel when he’s around.

  “Now we’re all here, let us eat,” Yerik whines.

  Father claps his hands. “Indeed, take a seat.”

  Miron is still holding my hand, and once I look up, he’s still staring at me. I clear my throat, and he realizes, dropping my hand.

  I turn and walk to the table, waiting for my father to tell me where to sit. Father always likes to order people where to sit.

  “Miron, sit here,” he commands, pointing at the seat to his right.

  He gives me a nod to the seat next to Miron. I swallow hard and sit down, wishing I didn’t have to sit so close to him. It’s difficult to control my nerves when I’m this close to the man I’ve longed for.

  “Miron, dig in,” Father commands, setting my nerves on edge. I hate the way he speaks to him. Miron is supposed to be his trusted and respected advisor, but he treats him no better than the rest of his men.

  A silence falls over the table as the clink of cutlery against china fills the grand room. I can hardly eat, as my stomach is a mess of nerves. My father and Yerik begin discussing punishments, as Miron remains silent. I keep my eyes on my plate, but I feel his attention move to me. A shiver passes down my spine.