Owned By The Bratva King by Jagger Cole

3

River

I’m still staringin awe at the room when the door suddenly slams shut behind me. I whirl and furiously run to it, yelling as my fists pound on the gold filigreed, inlay wood. But the big man who’s just escorted me here from the helipad says nothing in return. In fact, I can hear his heavy footsteps thudding away, leaving me locked in the room.

Slowly, my fists stop pounding. I turn and sink against the door as my eyes wander my new prison. As prisons go, this is… well, it’s a palace. I might be locked in here against my will. But these quarters would fit a fucking queen.

The man who brought me here from Yuri grunted that this was my “room” when he opened the double doors for me. But it’s rooms, plural. Four palatially enormous, breezy, elegant, exquisitely designed rooms. And for the hundredth time, my jaw drops at just how enormous this yacht is.

No expense has been spared. None. And yet it’s not gaudy or showy. I’ve been on shoots or to parties at luxurious mansions and huge boats owned by people who think “expensive” means “good taste.” Whoever designed this palace of a yacht understood exactly what they were doing, though.

I walk slowly through the opulent living room area, into an equally lavish second living area, this one with a huge entertainment center across the wall and a very well stocked bar in the corner. Well, at least I won’t get thirsty, I think wryly to myself.

There’s also a kitchen and dining area, and a private balcony overlooking the now-dark ocean, complete with a hot tub and lap pool. Through a set of double doors, my jaw drops as I drink in the bedroom. Almost the whole thing is glass walls. But it’s designed in relation to the rest of the yacht in a way where no other part of the boat can really see into it.

An enormous bed fills the center of the gorgeous bedroom. Soft lights glow from recessed fixtures. Another door leads to a stunning marble and silver bathroom, complete with a deep whirlpool tub, steam room, and rain shower.

I wander in a daze back into the bedroom and sit on the edge of the bed. What the fuck is happening to me?

It’s not like Yuri Volkov and I had hours of intimate conversations the one time we met. We actually barely spoke at all past initial introductions at dinner. Belle, my best friend in the world, wanted me there as she’s been slowly getting to know the man who is technically her biological father, but who she didn’t know about until recently.

It wasn’t a secret what he did at that dinner. Not when Belle’s own fiancé at the time, and now husband Niko is also heavily involved with the Russian Bratva. But even knowing that, there’s something different about Yuri Volkov.

There’s something much darker, much more serious, and much more dangerous about him.

I’m still stewing in my own throughs when there’s a knock at the bedroom door. I gasp, bolting to my feet. I look down and frown. I’m still in a fucking bikini. But when I glanced around for something to put on, I groan as my eyes land on a fanned pile of current issues of fashion magazines across the top of a side table.

I’m on three of them, wearing just as little as a freaking bikini. I frown and glance at the door as I cross my arms over my chest.

“What?”

The door opens, and the big, younger guy who led me here ten minutes ago steps in.

“What now?” I mutter, glaring at him.

His face is stone-cold as he just shrugs. “It is time for dinner,” he grunts in a heavy Russian accent.

“Excuse me?”

“It is time for dinner,” he repeats with a bored expression on his face. “To eat.”

My eyes narrow. “I’m guessing I’m not going to be eating alone?”

He smiles thinly and shakes his head. “No.”

“Why am I here?”

He keeps looking me right in the eyes, saying nothing. His face gives away nothing.

“Well?” I snap.

“Let’s go. Mr. Volkov does not like to be kept waiting.”

I just glare at the guard. He sighs.

“Dinner is waiting, Ms. Finn.”

“Well, I hope it’s casual,” I say dryly. I glance down with a wave of my hand at my bikini. When I look up though, the guard is still looking me square in the eyes. It occurs to me that he’s made a point of never looking at me below the chin.

You are mine. You belong to me, now.

The memory of those brutally cold and yet heatedly charged words make my core tighten and tremble.

The guard nods past me. “There is a closet full of clothes behind those doors.”

I frown, pursing my lips. “I don’t want his clothes.”

“Mr. Vokov has requested—”

“Yeah, and I don’t really give much of a shit what he requested, actually,” I snap.

The guard levels his sharp blue eyes at mine. He sighs. “Ms. Finn, I have orders.”

“Oh yeah?” I spit. “And what are you going to do…” I scowl. “What the fuck is your name?”

“Maksim.”

“Well, exactly what are you going to do, Maksim, dress me?” I sneer. Pushing the buttons of a six and a half foot Russian mobster who looks like he was built in an NFL gym and chews iron maybe isn’t the smartest move in the world. But I’m angry. I’m scared, and freaking out, and angry. And since the man who actually had me taken isn’t here, I’m lashing out where I can.

But Maksim barely seems to register my outburst. He shrugs with a thin smile. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“Smart choice” I mutter.

“Smarter if you knew my boss.”

I swallow, trembling.

“Get dressed.”

“Get fucked.”

He sighs again. “Put some clothes on and let’s go.”

“No.”

Maksim sighs again and just shrugs. “Okay. Follow me, then.”

He turns to march out of the bedroom. I follow with a scowl on my face. He leads me through the lavish quarters, out to the hallway, and then up an elegant, modern set of stairs. At the time, we exit out onto a gorgeous deck overlooking the dark ocean. Near the railing, sitting at a table set for two and laden with all manner of dishes of food, is him.

Yuri.

I swallow when he turns to look at me. And when I feel that heated gaze tease over me, I simmer with a horrible, forbidden heat. Kidnapping mafia psychopath or not, Yuri Volkov is fucking gorgeous.

And unlike Maksim, he has no qualms about looking at me beneath the chin. I blush, trembling as his gaze slips over me, lingering boldly in places that make me blush and squirm.

I stare back, defiantly. But not only does he look amazing, he’s also dressed incredibly in a perfectly tailored cream suit. A light blue dress shirt open at the neck perfectly highlights his eyes. I blush deeply. Christ, he looks fucking amazing. He’s like a fucking Dolce and Gabana ad up here on his billion-dollar yacht.

Very quickly, I start to regret my little protest of coming to dinner in a bikini.

Yuri turns to Maksim and growls something smoothly in Russian. The guard nods and turns to leave without so much as another look my way. When he’s gone, I turn back to the older, sinfully handsome Russian mobster I’m now alone with.

“So what was that?” I snap.

“What was what?”

“What you said to him.”

Yuri smiles curiously. He arches a brow in amusement but says nothing in response.

“Well?!” I grunt. “Go fetch me another girl to kidnap? Go lord my power over someone else?”

Yuri’s lips curl at the corners. “I told him to leave us.”

“Yeah?” I snap. “Why, so you could—”

“That is enough.”

I gasp at the strength in his voice as he stands abruptly. His eyes narrow at me, making me tremble with fear and a heat that confuses and shames me. His hand clenches his napkin tightly before he drops it to his chair.

I swallow heavily. “People will look for me, you know.”

The anger in his face seems to fade back to a sliver of amusement.

“Oh?”

“Yep,” I spit. “I honestly don’t care how conceited this sounds, but people know me. I’m famous. And when it gets out that I’ve been fucking kidnapped—”

“You haven’t been.”

I stammer, staring at him. “No?” I blurt. “Well then what the fuck would you call this?!”

The older man with the piercing blue eyes smiles thinly with amusement. “Your people, the photographer and all of the rest of them from the boat? They are being treated to a vacation at one of my villas.”

My jaw drops. “They what?”

“The attack on your photoshoot was the work of Ukrainian separatist terrorists. Unfortunately, they managed to kill two of your crew before my private corporate security forces came to your rescue.”

I stare at him. “You can’t be serious. I know what I saw. And so do the people I was with!”

He shrugs. “They are being compensated handsomely for their terrible experience.”

“You mean you’re fucking buying them off!” I spit back. “You’re bribing them to not tell the world that I’ve been kidnapped!”

Yuri sighs. “As I said, you have not been ‘kidnapped.’”

I stare at him. “Then you and I have a very different definition of that—”

“You are the guest of a wealthy and powerful billionaire.”

I blink. “His guest.”

Yuri nods.

“They think I’m your guest?”

He smiles wolfishly. “Actually, they think you’re my play kitten for as long as I desire to play with you.”

My jaw drops. “Excuse me?!”

“It was the easiest explanation, River.” He shrugs casually. “You would hardly be the first beautiful young model to run off for a month of sex and fun with a rich older man.”

“A month?!” I blurt.

“Perhaps two. Maybe three.” He smiles that wolf-like smile again. “You may not ever want to leave.”

I tremble. Heat and real fear throb deep within me, prickling my skin. “None of them would buy that story.”

“I am told your photographer said, and I do quote: ‘good for you, girl. Get your fuck on. Get it,’” Yuri says with zero inflection. And yet, it still sounds exactly like Ethan. It also makes me blush furiously.

“And the two people who died on that boat?” I snap. “What about them? What about their families? Are you going to lie to them, too? Think it matters to them if I’m on a sex-vacation with some prick of a—”

“The assistant and the crew member who were killed were Russian.”

I frown. “And?”

“And so their families have been paid well for their loss, and they understand.”

I stare at him, feeling ill. “That’s fucking inhuman.”

He shrugs. “That is how it works in Russia.”

“You’re a monster.”

His face darkens. His jaw grinds. When he starts to step closer to me, I tremble. My breath catches as he moves even closer, and I shiver as he casually walks around me. His eyes never leave me.

“You disobeyed my orders.” His growl murmurs into my ear from behind. I gasp, trembling as I turn my head towards him. But he’s already moving again, walking in a circle around me, like a shark circling his prey.

“What, I wouldn’t let you dress me like a fucking Barbie doll?”

“And yet that is what you do for a living, no? You let others dress you.”

“Not when I’m their captive,” I fire back.

Yuri comes to a stop in front of me and smirks. “Is that what you tell yourself when you dress how they want for money?”

My lips purse and thin. By anger swells. But I don’t say a thing. His eyes narrow on mine.

“I told you to dress for dinner.”

I laugh coldly. “And I’m telling you to go fuck—”

I gasp as his big, strong hand shoots out and suddenly grips my chin. He growls like an animal as he surges close to me and lifts my eyes to his with a lift of my jaw in his hand. My breath catches sharply as my eyes widen. His seem to burn right into me as he looms over me, like he might devour me.

Or maybe kiss me. Maybe both. My thighs clench as I tremble under his grip.

“Let us be clear,” He snarls heavily with measured words. “The very brief, loose history between us means nothing here. That you and my daughter are acquaintances is meaningless to me,” he hisses as his blue eyes burn with fire. “You are here because I have ordered it. Because you will play a part for me. And you will do as I say.”

I couldn’t talk even if I wanted to. My heart is pounding so hard that it’s almost all I can hear. My skin feels like it’s rippling with fire. My very core quivers with a terror and an ache that horrifies and excites me.

“And yet,” Yuri hisses dangerously. His powerful hand still grips my jaw. His eyes never leave mine. “And yet you’ve chosen to disobey me. To defy me.”

I quiver under his gaze. I can’t tell if I’m turned on or terrified. And again, it might be both, which only means I’m even more turned on.

“You wish to defy me, River?” he growls quietly. “Why stop with this? Why stop with just wearing a bikini when I asked you to dress for dinner?”

I blink and swallow thickly. “What?”

“Take it off.”

My heart lurches. “Excuse me?”

A low growl rumbles in his throat. His grip tightens on my jaw, and he moves even closer to me, until his powerfully muscled body is almost pressed against mine. He lowers his mouth to my ear. My eyelids feel heavy as I tremble with a surging desire.

“I said,” he snarls. “Take it off.”

My face flushes. “What, my—”

“All of it.”

He slowly pulls back, lowering his gaze to my eyes. I stare back at him.

“You’re joking.”

“I don’t joke.”

Suddenly, he drops his hand from my jaw. He turns and easily walks back to the table. He sits and turns to look at me again as he waves his hand with a flick of his wrist.

“The bikini. Off, now.”

I swallow. I tremble as my eyes lock with his. He’s not holding a gun or anything. He’s not even holding me anymore. And yet, I feel compelled to do as he says. I feel under a spell, or a power. It would be easy to chalk it up to fear. But I know it’s not that. Or it’s not entirely that. It’s something far more dangerous, compelling, and shameful.

Slowly, I reach back behind me and pluck the knot at the back of my bikini top. Yuri’s eyes burn like hot blue fire as he watches me peel my top off. My arm crosses my chest, covering my tits as I drop the top to the deck.

“Now the rest.”

“Fine, okay,” I mumble. My one free hand drops to one of the knots at the side of the bottoms.

“Fine okay what?”

I look up sharply. My face blushes.

“Okay what,” he growls quietly.

My cheeks burn as I eye him.

“Fine okay, sir,” I whisper.

He nods, like he’s approving. With a shaky breath, I pluck the knot on the side of my bottoms. When it falls open, I reach for the other one and do the same. When they drop down my legs, me free hand shoots between my thighs to cover myself.

All of a sudden, I’m naked, barely covering myself with my hands, on the private deck of a billionaire Russian mob boss’s mega-yacht.

Yuri smiles as if this is all completely normal. He gestures to the chair across from him. “Come, eat.”

I stare.

“Come eat, River,” he growls. “You are not on a photoshoot. You may actually eat now. Do not cut your nose off to spite your very pretty face while trying to tell me you aren’t hungry.”

I weigh it for one more second. But then my stomach groans like it’s dying, and I cave. I awkwardly move to the table, still covering myself as I sit. The white tablecloth covers my lap at least, so I bring that hand up.

“I hope you have brought an appetite.”

My eyes drink in the spread on the table in awe. Caviar, lobsters, king crab legs, oysters, champagne on ice, and endless other delicacies.

Without saying anything though, I start to eat. I don’t have the energy to wonder if it’s drugged or poisoned or not. Besides, if he wanted me dead or blacked out, surely there would be easier ways than wasting a whole two dozen oysters on the half-shell.

We don’t speak as I eat with one hand. I ignore the champagne he pours me, though.

“Try the crab legs.”

I still don’t speak or look at him as I reach for one. But then I realize the problem. Crab legs take two hands to crack. I try with one, but there’s no way it’s happening. I shrug and go to leave it in favor of something easier.

“Try them,” Yuri growls darkly. When I look up into his eyes, I can see that he’s not letting this go. Even though we both see what he’s doing.

“Really?” I mutter.

He smiles thinly. “I’d hate to have a guest miss out on them. They’re truly delicious.”

I glare at him. He looks right back, without blinking.

Finally, I sigh. Screw it. There’s only so many things on this table that won’t take two hands to eat. I take a breath and then slowly pull my arm away from my tits. I glare at him. But he just keeps looking me in the eyes with a sharp smile. And I realize this wasn’t about him trying to see my tits. This was about power.

That shouldn’t excite me like it does.

I reach for the crab leg and crack it open. Yuri keeps eating, and occasionally sipping champagne. I do catch his eyes landing on my tits. But when he does, I tremble with heat. I can feel my skin tingle under his gaze. My nipples harden. I blush as I dive back into the food.

Eventually, I’m actually full—for the first time in what might be months, given my usual shooting-schedule diet. I even finally reach for the champagne. Again, if he wanted to kill or drug me, there would be much easier ways.

When it’s clear we’re both done, Yuri sits back. He looks at me. This time, he doesn’t hide his eyes dropping to my tits at all. He smirks at me as he raises his champagne flute, like a toast.

“What exactly are we toasting too,” I mumble.

He smiles. “A mutually beneficial business arrangement.”

I frown. “What sort of businesses arrangement?”

He waves a hand. “Later.” His eyes slide to mine. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your dinner. I will walk you back now.”

I blink, frowning. “Oh, uh, okay.”

This is fucking surreal. But it’s just happening—it’s just unfolding around me, like a movie I’m actually part of.

I turn to look towards my bikini on the deck.

“Leave it.”

My head whips around. My eyes snap to his. But I don’t bother sassing “excuse me” or asking if he’s serious. It’s clear he’s nothing but serious at this point.

Yuri looks right at me as he takes his phone out. He grunts something in Russian into it and then hangs up.

“What was that?”

“I told Maksim I am walking you back to your chambers, and no one is to see you.” His eyes flash with that gleaming blue fire again. “No one but me,” he growls. He stands, buttoning one button of his suit jacket like it’s a practiced, second-nature move. He offers his arm. “Come.”

With a shaky breath, I stand, trying to cover myself. But it’s useless. And besides, he’s already seen my bare tits during the whole time we’ve been eating. With a blush, I let him hook my arm with his.

We walk in silence back down the stairs, and down the hall to the double-doors to my quarters. He opens one of them and drops my arm. I shyly start to step inside. But suddenly, his powerful hand reaches out and grips my wrist. I tremble, turning back to him. I blush in my nakedness.

“In the future,” he growls deeply. “You will obey me.”

I swallow thickly. I nod my head. “Yeah.”

His eyes narrow. I blush deeper.

“Yes, sir,” I whisper. I gasp as he leans down to me, his lips by my ears.

“Good girl,” he purrs thickly.

I step back as he pulls the door shut. His eyes hold mine until it shuts between us. Then I hear it lock, followed by his footsteps moving away. My breath comes out in a whoosh, like I’ve been holding it ever since I stepped out onto that upper deck for dinner.

My pulse is pounding. My mind is whirling in out of control circles. I’m terrified, and confused, and so very fucking wet.