Nadya Bratt Novels & Stories

Margarette explained. Finrod volunteered to stay up and watch the first night. He said there could be aggressive Ogres or hungry Naga—a half-man, half-snake creature. But on the second day, Margarette insisted to take the duty of watch. She was adamant that Finrod must have a decent sleep if he was to participate at the Bronithe. On the third day, when Ellaine saw a smiling Finrod under a roof of a cottage she just couldn’t hide her joy! Finally, they’ve reached the next town.

He just leans against the edge of the desk, arms crossed, watching Matteo like he’s waiting for the bomb to go off. None of us say a damn word. We don’t have to. Dante is coming, and he’s not happy. I drag a hand down my face, exhaling harshly before walking to the bar and pouring myself a drink. I don’t sit, don’t get comfortable, because there’s nothing comfortable about this situation. She fucking lied. Nadya Mikhailova. Bratva princess. A Pakhan’s only daughter. A girl whose face has been plastered all over Moscow with a twenty-million-dollar bounty over her head. And she’s been under our roof for weeks.

Giada shared. “Be careful; she might be plotting a comeback. She doesn't back down easily,” Giada warned, highlighting the potential for retaliation. “I'm prepared for whatever she throws my way. It's time someone put her in her place, whether it's me or not,” Giada declared confidently. “Brynn's trying too hard to fit into the popular crowd,” Ximena observed. “And they don't want her,” Ayanda and Yara echoed simultaneously. “It's genuinely sad,” Ximena commented.

For a moment, she allowed the silence to stretch, letting the anticipation build before she spoke. "Good morning, gentlemen," she began, her voice calm and unwavering. Her tone was rich with authority, but there was warmth that made it clear she wasn’t just here to pretend. This was personal—rooted in her heart. She scanned the faces before her—Theodore, Drake, Victor, and the other business partners of Thatcher Enterprises. "My name is Nadianna Rostova. I’m the founder and director of several charitable organizations supporting children with cancer. Today, I’m here to present a project that can change the lives of thousands of children fighting for theirs."

It was the most awaited day of the month, the launch of the fashion brand at The Lavish. Alex and Cathy reached the twelfth floor, they were welcomed by a lady named Nadia. In her 40s, Nadia is the brand manager of the luxury products whose launch will be happening today.

I reached into her dress and, sure enough, next to a chapstick, keys, and cell phone, was a wafer-thin wallet with her driver's ID and— "Do you see it?" "You're a Magdalena!?" The highest ranking of the Knights Templar was…this woman. Nadya…Miss Nadya "Fuck Me Now" Simmons. I suppose that made sense on how she knew the seal and why she had Grace in her. She must have been a descendant of one of the original Apostles. Which also meant Nadya was likely married.

She forgot the journalists’ questions and grabbed my still‑healing arm. The wound reopened under her pull, and drops of blood fell to the floor. “Joseph, how could you be so despicable? You know Derek is innocent, yet you bribed reporters and hired online trolls. Do you want to ruin his reputation?” Her grip tightened around my wrist with great force. A sharp cracking sound followed. Pain washed over me, and a faint taste of blood filled my mouth. Derek pulled her away and acted generous. “Jaime, it’s alright. I believe Joseph wouldn’t do that.”

My cum was drunk and licked like drops of nectar, and I shared some of the hottest kisses I ever had with women before. Nadya was really not bad. She had all the traits I would want in my wife as the Bratva Boss. She would never stab me in the back. Her body was that of a goddess of lust, but she was keen on bearing my children. All that she asked in return was a marriage. I looked out of the signed papers of the deal I completed yesterday, my heart not constricting like it did around other women. Maybe Nadya was the one. Maybe I was being stupid by forcing her away.

“You didn't answer my question. What's my name? Do you know?” The young maid looked down, uncomfortable with Nayla's confusion. “Madam... your name is Nadia. Nadia Anderson. And you are Mr. Bram's wife.” “You were just married last week and someone caused Madame to have an accident,” the little maid said with her head bowed. Nayla's eyes widened, a mixed feeling of confusion and fear coming over her. “Wife? An accident? But I don't remember anything... how can I be his wife?” “Who is Bram? I can't remember his face at all. What happened to me?” Nayla held her head which felt like it was going to burst.