The Bratva Pakhan's Curvy Obsession

Celia

“You’re getting married.”

The words are a blow that would have sent me off my feet if I weren’t sitting. I fight for air to scream no. But Carlo isn’t done.

“Milos Levin needs a wife. He heads the Russian mafia—Bratva here in Chicago. It’s time for him to get married, he wants kids, and he wants them soon. This is an honor I honest to fuck never thought you’d get. No one in la familia wants you. Milos is only interested in cementing our relationship, so he’ll take whatever woman will get him what he wants. I didn’t even offer him Carina. With her, I’d have to pay him. He finds you acceptable enough. You are getting me exactly what I want from him, so don’t fuck this up.”

Ice slides down my spine. Milos Levin—a man who has haunted my dreams and nightmares for the last four years. “Married? Milos Levin?” I’m shaking my head, none of this makes sense.

“You’re fucking lucky he wants a bride from a family that matches his own. His family is old and powerful going back to his grandfather. Don’t even think of saying no. If you do, I’ll give him Carina. He doesn’t care who he gets—all women are the same in the dark, he said.” His laugh is as cruel as he is.

“My kind of man. Milos is smart and the kind of ruthless necessary to maintain his spot on top after more than twenty years running his family’s business. Our relationship has made the Outfit a lot of money.” Gray eyes so like mine I hate looking in the mirror narrow on me. “I’m not going to let you fuck that up. You will marry him.”

Carlo’s threat of Carina in my place hits exactly the way he intended. It’s moments like this when I loathe this man. I don’t give a shit if he is my father. He isn’t a father, has never been a father—he’s a sperm donor. The bastard knows how I feel about him. He also knows how to leash me and my hatred: My little sister. Carina is the one and only good thing in my life, and me for her. I promised her I would always protect her from Carlo—from this world.

The world of the Outfit we wish we could escape but knew we never could. Escaping would mean leaving our mother behind, who even after twenty-five years and two children, was only his girlfriend and maid in his home. She loved Carlo, despite him taking other women to events where he met with the mayor, senators, and aldermen. Her love of him and our love of her trapped us in it. Even more so now that he’d become the Don, almost two years ago. Carlo loved the power that came with his new position.

It pissed him off many in the family sought out the advice of Dominic Sabatini—his underboss. He tried to play it off as he preferred dumping problems on Dominic. The truth was Carlo resented what he saw as a lack of respect. Now, Carlo would do whatever it took for him to raise his own profile by linking himself to the powerful Levin family.

It didn’t matter I wanted nothing to do with any of it—Carlo would use me any way he could. Carina, my stomach twists, is too soft. She would agree to please our mother, who would do anything to make Carlo happy.

“He’s waiting out in the garden.” He rolls his eyes. “Wants to talk to you to ensure you are willing before we begin the negotiation for the marriage contract.” Gunmetal gray pins me down. “You will tell him you are willing. You will accept his offer. If you don’t, your mother and Carina will suffer for your stupidity.”

The thought of Milos Levin sends a shiver through me. Closing my eyes, I fight to breathe deep because the shiver isn’t out of fear—it’s longing. Frustration seethes through me. I should be angry at Carlo, at Milos, but instead excitement and something I never thought I would feel…euphoria bubbles up inside me.

Milos Levin wants to marry me. He’s stunning, incredibly rich and powerful, yet he wants to marry me. Fat, boring me… That mean little voice whispers, He’s only willing to marry you because you’re Carlo Toro’s daughter. You’re nothing more than a chip to be bartered. He’d marry Carina if he had to. But it isn’t Carina—it’s me. As long as I said yes, as if I had a choice. If Carlo found out I said no or indicated I didn’t want the marriage, he’d make mine, my mother’s, and Carina’s life hell.

What a liar. I close my eyes against the truth. I don’t want to say no.

“Celia, move your ass. He’s waiting,” Carlo barks at me.

Startled, I flee his office.

I stand at the French doors to the garden behind Carlo’s home. Milos Levin is standing in front of a bench looking into the ostentatious koi pond. In Russian, Levin means lion, and it fits him perfectly. Tightly coiled power radiates in waves so thick it moves the air around him.

The sun loves him, caressing his honey skin the way I wish I could. Silver catches the rays among his black hair—more than the last time I saw him almost six months ago.

Feeling my eyes on him, his head comes up. Through the glass our eyes meet. Eerie bright yellow eyes command me to him. Obeying, I open the doors and leave the safety of the house.

Milos Levin is six foot four and a wall of muscle. At first glance he’s formidable. Look a little longer at him in his usual black on black—a silk suit cut to fit him, black dress shirt and black tie—with his unique yellow eyes, and he’s downright scary. Intelligent people fear him, even if they aren’t aware he’s Bratva.

I’m tongue-tied at how close he is after thinking I would never see him again. A barely there smile shimmers across his sexy, full lips. It causes a twisting in my chest so tight it aches.

He offers his hand. “Milos Levin. It is nice to finally meet you after hearing so much about you from Carlo.”

Confusion at his words stills me. His eyes flick to the house and I understand. My hand goes into his, so big, so strong. The electricity that always surges through me at his touch is still there. After four years, I’m reconciled it always will be. It no longer scares me—it makes me feel warm and safe. Two things I never thought I would feel when it comes to this man on the first day I met him.

I aim for what I think I might have said if the hand holding mine hadn’t already brought me to tears from spanking me, and later made me scream his name as he gave me my first orgasm from a man. “Celia Parker. I’m sure half of what Carlo told you is complete bullshit.”

An eyebrow goes up as he lets my hand go. He nods to the bench. I sit and he does too, a mere six inches from me. Close enough his body heat reaches me, yet not as close as I want him to be. Twisting his upper body toward me, his strong arm runs along the back of the bench. His large hand is only inches away from my neck. “That is why I wanted to meet with you before I moved forward with the marriage contract. To ensure you are accepting of becoming my wife.”

Closing my eyes, I fight for composure at the words—his wife. They were the last thing I thought I would hear from Milos Levin. Especially after how wrong everything went the last time I saw him.

“Celia? I will not move forward with this if it is not what you want. It is time for me to marry, to have children. However, if you do not—”

“You’ll take Carina, because all women are the same in the dark.” The words are bitter on my tongue.

His chuckle is gravel and smoke. “Your father liked that.”

“You thought I would?” Anger gives me the strength to open my eyes. Despite the chuckle, there is no sign of it or his thoughts on his harshly beautiful face—like always. “You want a breeding mare from good stock, so I’m the one you’re willing to take to cement your relationship with the Outfit, with Carlo. And if I don’t accept, you’ll take my little sister. What about Anna Kovalenko? For the last five months she’s been warming your bed. Why aren’t you marrying her? Is her family not going to get you all the power you want?”

His thumb runs along the back of my neck. I feel the light touch throughout every cell in my body. Air is tight in my lungs. “Stop.” I hate the way it comes out of me in a moan.

“Stop?” Lowering his head to within inches of my ear, his hot breath runs over my neck. I can’t contain the shiver that runs through me. “I’d hoped you had matured. It was one of the reasons I left you alone as long as I did. Saying stop when you want more and no when you mean yes is a childish game. Didn’t you learn anything from the last time we met?”

His reference to that day pierces me deep, leaving me blinking back tears—no, he can’t see them. He doesn’t deserve them. I cried enough over that day.

Yellow runs over me, there is no hiding anything from him. “Why would I want Carina when I could have a wife whose body reacts to me the way yours does? Your answer—do you agree to our marriage or not?”

For a split second there is a glimmer of…is it fear, worry in his eyes? How could it be when he has to know I would never—could never tell him no? Hadn’t he just said what drove me craziest? A simple touch was enough to melt my bones, turning me weak and wanting for him.

“Yes, fine.” I push the words out of tight lungs.

He pulls back, satisfaction clear in his eyes. “Tomorrow afternoon you will shop with a stylist. We will call it your trousseau. From today you’ll have security, which includes a driver. Give your car to your sister or mother or whatever you want—you have no further need for it.”

He doesn’t wait for me to respond before he stands. I’m sitting stunned when his hand goes around my arm, lifting me from the bench. My knees go weak, and I sag into him. Like every time it happens, his body against mine leaves me gasping for more—for him pressed into every inch of me. A hiss escapes him. “Celia, your father is watching. Careful, kotyonok.”

The endearment sends a twisting deep inside me. His warning that Carlo is watching gives me the strength to stand on my own.

Milos opens the French doors for me. My mother is waiting, anxiety clear on her face. I nod. “Oh this is so wonderful, finally. Your father will be so happy. Mr. Levin, he’s waiting in his office. Is there anything I can bring you, coffee, tea or any other drink? Carlo has liquor in his office.”

His hand at my back guides me forward, we all move deeper into the house until we’re in the foyer.

“I need nothing, thank you. My only request is you assist Celia in the coming weeks in preparation for our wedding.”

“Weeks?” My mother looks to me.

“It is my wish we marry a month from now.”

“No, it’s too soon.” Carlo appears. “There won’t be enough time to arrange a wedding deserving of my status and yours. No one will say it wasn’t worthy. I also don’t want any questions of her virginity. The sheets will be presented at the breakfast the next day. If you’re marrying her to knock her up, I don’t want anyone counting days.”

Humiliated, I want to disappear into the floor. I’m not aware I press into Milos—seeking his protection from Carlo—until I feel his body go hard against mine.

The doorbell rings, pulling me from him. My mother moves to open the door, her job as the maid of the house. Dominic Sabatini steps into the house with a nod at my mother. His sapphire blue eyes see everything in one glance.

“Everything good, Celia?” The question is gentle, yet his tone implies violence if my answer is no.

Tension goes up in Milos beside me. Swallowing down all the things I want to say, I simply nod.

Milos’s strong hand is at the base of my spine, rubbing a soothing circle. “As usual, your timing is impeccable, Dom.” He looks to Peter, his guard who is always at his side. “See Ms. Parker home, remain with her and have a new car ready for me.”

A harsh bark of laughter comes out of Carlo. “No one wants her, you’re wasting resources on her.”

Milos stiffens against me. “If no one wants her then why are you pressing so hard for so much of my money and concessions?” His words are arctic cold. “Celia, go home.”

As I leave, I give Dominic a grateful smile. He stops me with a large hand on my shoulder before pressing a kiss to my cheek. “If you need anything, call me.” The words are so low I barely hear them.

“Thank you,” I whisper, knowing I won’t.

I follow Peter out without looking back.

“What did Sabatini say to you?” Peter asks as he holds the door open to my car.

“None of your fucking business,” I reply as I get in.

He doesn’t like that. Too fucking bad. Frowning, he waits until I’m inside and my seat belt fastened before he moves away. I’m grateful for the time it takes him to get into the large black luxury SUV behind me before turning on my own car and putting it into gear. The car Milos told me would no longer be mine. As much as I want to resent him telling me to get rid of it, I don’t have the right—considering he’s the one who gave it to me.

Four years ago I wished it was a Sabatini I encountered leaving Carlo’s house, only for it to be Milos Levin. All these years later, I’m truly grateful it wasn’t a Sabatini.