Page 16 of Forbidden Bratva Virgin

Continue exploring the root causes of his need for control

Develop a personalized coping plan to manage his anger and stress

I shut off my device, melting into the couch with folded arms and my gaze on the ceiling. Frankly, I was disappointed with the outcome of today’s meeting, but a sliver of hope was enough for me. That sliver of hope had stirred me to march to Amelia’s office in the first place, demanding a real challenge, and I got it. Recalling the journey of how far I’d come sparked my determination not to give up.

Miron was correct when he said the first days were for introductions. The remaining days belonged to me—to show him who was the boss.

Chapter 7 – Miron

I made peace with my reality a long time ago.

There was no other purpose for me than being a part of the Bratva. For what it was worth, even if my family was not the one I’d unfortunately been born into, I believed I would have been roped in with the Russian darkness somehow—like we were meant to be.

But being a part of it didn’t guarantee twenty-four-seven fun or conquests. Some days were good, quiet, and smooth, and other days? Not so much. Either way, I was used to the ups and downs of the business, where things could change quickly and unexpectedly. It was like seeing different sides of the same situation every day.

Today, though, was one of those days when shit got realer, and necessity required me to get my hands dirty.

Apparently, a rising group of rogues tried to sabotage multiple shipments within and beyond the United States borders, and another idiot got caught trying to blow up one of our storehouses in Nevada, all within the same week. Fucking jackals. ThePakhangot wind of both atrocities and needed me to handle the situation.

Trust me, I did.

It took a few days and some burning of jet fuel hopping from state to state, but I always got the fucking job done.

Dealing with them was loud, messy, and fucking stressful. ThePakhanwas pleased, though, and that was what mattered. I craved noise cancellation, something worthy enough to serve as a distraction. So, when Damir got a sudden call from my brother inviting us to a small house party in California, without skipping a beat, I told the pilot to change destinations.

Now, here I was, watching the men bicker about the most profitable start-up venture. About two hours ago, Damir looked like a worn-out husband with a loose tie hanging around his neck and tired eyes that needed nothing else but good sleep. Right now, he was going at it with Axel, one of Damien’s business partners, heatedly stressing his point about restaurant start-ups having more prospects.

“I didn’t fucking spend thousands of dollars on the women and wine to have you guys talk about work here.” My brother walked—more likewaltzed—into the living room shirtless, grinning, with a full glass of what I suspected to be Vodka and beads of water running rivulets from his dark hair and down the Guardian Angel inked down his spine.

The idiot just had a shower, and the ladies were greedily feasting on the sight.

For a moment, I’d forgotten we were surrounded by half-naked dancers twirling and shaking their asses at the center of the room. The dim lighting and loud music couldn’t be blamed; the conversation had been so stimulating that I, too, found myself engrossed because I sided with Damir. Restaurants were lucrative.

“The girls can wait. Money’s more important,” Axel piped up with his eyes burning a hole through one of the girls’ barely covered ass.

The hell it was. Everyone knew the greedy bastard flocked over girls more than a shepherd to his sheep. Axel was one of the slimy ones, sly in business, and a complete ass when it came to the women. He didn’t treat them right, but he never missed a chance to boast about fucking them right.

“Not right now, they can’t.” Damien lifted his glass, side-eyeing me because he knew the man irritated me. “We came here to fucking party, so party, we will.”

The men eased up, lifting their glasses to salute our special host as he cranked up the volume on the music system before settling in beside Damir on the black couch.

He patted his thighs. “Ladies, please. Over here.” And three ladies happily skipped from the center, throwing themselves into his arms. “Please, my dear men, enjoy yourselves tonight. I’ve got rooms upstairs, if you need ‘em. For tomorrow brings shitty tidings, or maybe good ones. You never really know.”

The room echoed with deep rumbles of laughter, and they relaxed after a brief air-toast. One after the other, the girls swamped each man, and the conversation died out, leaving a replacement of music, masculine grunts, and feminine giggles. I just rolled my eyes at my brother, and he smirked while groping one of the dancer’s asses. “Enjoying the view, Miron?”

Iwasenjoying the view, and, like the conversation about start-ups, watching each of the men have a teasing smack at the ladies, lowly groaning in satisfaction, was…provoking. I toyed with my glass, not finding the strength to bicker. “What if I am?”

One of the girls nuzzled her face between his neck, and another, a petite blonde, alternated between twerking on his groin and kissing his bare chest, and the haze in Damien’s blue eyes said he enjoyed it a bit too much. “There’s plenty of them to go round. You don’t have to keep starving. Unless you’re on a celibacy journey and didn’t think to tell me.”

I arched a brow, knowing exactly what—who—he referred to. The corner of my lips picked up with a ghostly smile. “Fuck off.”

Damien’s rough chuckle got muffled when he grabbed the blondie’s mouth and pressed it against his own, sucking her lips with his eyes closed and a fierce eagerness plastered over his chiseled face. Between the both of us, he was the one kissing like he’d been starved for years.

Now, he was being playful, teasing those girls and whispering sweet nothings in their ears. But no one knew my brother like I did, or witnessed enough to see the true animal that lay beneath all that rouge playboy exterior. It was one of the reasons he liked lots of social gatherings. While I sought out noise cancellation, Damien preferred the noise. It kept his darkness drowned out long enough for him to just live and be free.

Taking my attention away from my brother’s horniness, I stumbled on a tall, slender redhead stripping before Damir. He sat back, tumbler lifted to his lips, while she stood between his legs, grinning from ear to ear as he ordered which skimpy piece of clothing had to go next. Watching him grunt orders in Russian, which the girl surprisingly understood, was amusing. And I didn’t notice the brisk movement from the corner of my eyes until I felt small hands slide onto my chest.

“If you like that, I can give you a show of your own.”

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