Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lev
I glance at the clock and stifle a groan. Nine a.m.
I can't keep doing this, sleeping in shitty positions and places just to keep an eye on her. I have things to do, and keeping tabs on her, even if I have the help of my team, simply will not work.
Something has to give.
I get to my feet and note she doesn't stir. Mikhail will expect me on a call to update, and I have almost nothing to tell them except Isabella Morales is unbreakable.
Is that true, though?
If I really wanted to get through to her, I could push harder. She buckled under the sexual tension I put on her, and if I leaned into that—yeah. Yeah, that would very likely work. But it doesn't seem like she's actually hiding anything.
I check on her before I go. In sleep, her hands are underneath her chin. She looks almost childlike, with none of that reservation and ballsy energy that defines her. She wore herself out. I take no small measure of satisfaction knowing I had something to do with that.
Here, she'll be safely confined and under close surveillance.
Not that that stopped her yesterday. She'll try to escape again, no doubt, but probably not right away. She likely wants a shower, some food, and maybe some money before she does.
I keep a wad of cash in the desk drawer.
I want her to get this out of her system. Let her push on the walls of that cage now because the sooner she does, the sooner she'll realize she won't ever escape.
If she were a man, she'd already be six feet under, and we'd be planning our strategy to take on the LSD. But she isn't a man.
Oh, hell, she is not a man.
I take the call at the kitchen table—my iPad set up with a dual screen with Isabella's sleeping form on the left side, my brothers on the other.
"Morning," I tell them while I fire up the espresso machine.
"Well, good morning, sunshine," Aleks says with a smirk. "How was your night?"
I snort and pull out a mug. I wonder if she drinks coffee and, if she does, how she takes it. I set my mug in place and hit the button, the rich, decadent smell of hot espresso filling the room. I turn to face the camera. "Exhausting," I tell him honestly. "But I can't say this is the worst job I've ever had."
Mikhail smiles grimly. "Did she reveal anything to you when you interrogated her?"
I warm milk and frown, thinking it over. I hit the froth button and watch the milk churn. "More than she knows," I say with a shrug. I pour the foam into my mug, turn, and sit back down at the table. I glance at the screen before I elaborate. She turns over in her sleep, maybe thinking of waking up. The blanket's fallen to the side, revealing her perfect form. She starts to stretch.
"Gonna fill us in?" Viktor says darkly, leaning over in front of the screen with a scowl. He will never forgive her for sneaking onto his property unnoticed. He takes it as a personal threat against his wife.
He's not wrong.
"Yeah. I'm monitoring her on another screen. So, there's no tracking device on her at all. She really is on her own, which is telling in its own way. I know nothing else about why she's here."
Mikhail stares at the video camera in front of him. "Did you really interrogate her, brother? I know it's harder with her being a woman."
I take a sip out of my mug before I answer. I nod. "I did. I could've continued, but she was exhausted and worn out. So was I. It was a long fucking day. She almost escaped, too."
Mikhail chuckles. "And how'd that work out for her?"
I shrug. "She didn't get far."
"I found out some shit," Aleks says, looking down at his tablet. "And it corroborates what you're saying, Lev."
"Go on," I say, leaning back in my chair, my gaze locked on Aleks.
He looks up from his tablet. "Isabella's brother has been making some moves. His alliances are shifting, and he's burned some big fucking bridges. It looks like he's preparing for something huge."
I tense, my grip tightening on my mug. "Like what?"
Aleks taps a few times on his tablet, pulling up a series of documents and photos. "He's been in contact with some of our old enemies. There's talk of some kind of seismic power shift, obviously it's something to do with dismantling what we've built here in The Cove.
Mikhail curses. When he took over as pakhan in the wake of my father's death, his first plan was to destroy our biggest adversaries. However, it was like eliminating fucking weeds from a garden. As soon as we removed the threat of the largest one, smaller, resilient ones popped up. No one wants to see us get stronger, but with each year that passes, that's exactly what we've done.
We've come to expect challenges. But the LSD may be the most significant challenge we've faced.
Mikhail's expression grows serious. "And Isabella? How does she fit into all of this?"
Aleks shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe her brother's using her to be eyes and ears for the cartel. Maybe she's more involved in his operations than we initially thought."
I shake my head. For some reason, I don't believe that to be true. Isabella is not the type of person to be used by any man, and she can't disguise the raw hatred she has for her brother. Aleks continues. "Maybe her presence here isn't a coincidence. Perhaps she was sent to gather intel, to find our weaknesses."
"No… I don't think that's it. Regardless, she's still absolutely a threat to us, but I haven't gotten to why yet. I'd bet my life she's not working for her brother. Did you find out anything else?"
"Yeah," Aleks continues. "Well, Aria did anyways." Mikhail's wife Aria is even more skilled than Aleks, often finding hidden layers of information that give us a broader, more holistic picture of the world around us and the threats lurking therein. "She dug deep into her background. You may be right, Lev, because it seems she hasn't been entirely loyal to her family. There are rumors of her sabotaging their operations. Things like freeing captives, especially women who were meant to be sold. Going against direct orders, etcetera."
"Jesus," I mutter. "I bet her brother loved that."
"Yeah," Aleks says. "There's a record here of an emergency visit last year. Looks like she had a broken arm and black eye." My vision turns hazy red, and my cup clatters to the table. Only a fucking pussy raises a hand like that to a woman. A fucking pussy.
"Easy," Mikhail says. "Think about it. What would we do if Polina sabotaged our efforts?"
"She fucking has, " I say, shaking my head. My sister's penchant for being compassionate and fair has gotten her in loads of trouble. "You wouldn't beat her, Mikhail."
"Of course not," he says.
"Then what are you saying?" I snap.
Viktor growls, and Aleks's brows shoot up to his hairline. Mikhail clears his throat. "Watch it, Lev."
I draw in a breath and let it out slowly.
"What I'm saying is this. You are not going to lose your shit on her brother because of some kind of misplaced chivalry." He leans forward. "Am I clear?"
I'm shaking with the effort of controlling myself. They don't know what she's like. I've never seen a woman as tenacious and fucking brilliant as Isabella Morales. If some small-minded, tiny-dick asshole thinks hitting her is the way to get her compliance, I absolutely am fucking going to remember that.
I blow out a breath.
"Lev," he says warningly. But he can't intimidate me like he used to. When I was young and wild, before I'd sown my oats and been fully inducted into the Romanov Bratva, my older brothers acted the part of guardians. They kept me in line, made me obey the rules, and taught me discipline and respect, and as an adult, I'm grateful for that.
But sometimes, they don't remember that I'm not that fucking unruly, unpredictable kid anymore.
Still, Mikhail is my pakhan, and I do owe him my allegiance and respect. I know I do.
I nod. "Yes. I understand. Isabella is a wild card."
"Exactly," Aleks says. "Which makes her both dangerous and highly valuable." He sets the tablet down. "We need to decide how to handle her. If her brother finds out she's here, things could escalate quickly."
"It isn't a matter of if," Ollie says softly. "But when." I almost forgot he was there.
I nod. He's right. I take another sip of espresso, my mind racing. Her fierce resistance, her skills, and now this new intel paints an interesting albeit complex picture. She isn't just a pawn. My suspicions about her are correct—she has her own agenda.
"I'm gonna watch her closely," I say, determined. "Make no mistake. If she tries to betray us, she'll learn what happens when you cross the Bratva."
Mikhail nods. "Good."
I won't let anything jeopardize my family, not even the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.
I glance back at the screen where Isabella lies and lift my mug. I blink. Look harder. Shit.
She's fucking gone.
"Motherfucker," I mutter. "I'll be back." The alarm indicating she's crossed the edge of my property blares. One of my brothers chuckles, and another one curses in Russian.
I tap the surveillance footage and can see clearly where she's escaped. She's a sleek little mouse, easily moving from one place to the next undetected. Christ. How am I going to keep this woman under my thumb?
I force myself to stay calm while I watch the footage to see how she escaped and how I'll get to her. She moves silently through my house, using her lock-picking skills to bypass several locked doors. Her movements are precise and calculated, and there's a small smile on her lips and a gleam in her eyes that tells me she's enjoying herself immensely.
Fucking brat. We'll deal with that later. She's a few paces from the courtyard with no possible escape. She'll trigger the security lights and alert the guards.
I'll have to find another way to keep her shackled.
I take off at a run and reach her just as the blare of a second alarm sounds. She swivels to me, her eyes momentarily widened.
"Jesus," she mutters.
I walk toward her, my steps deliberate and measured, flanked by my men.
"You have no idea how badly I want to drag you across my lap and whip that ass until you're screaming for mercy," I mutter as I reach her. I deftly nab her wrists, secure them to her side, and toss her over my shoulder. "If only you didn't fucking like it."
"Oh, do I?" she says in a teasing tone. This is a game for her, a fucking game as if lives and entire kingdoms don't hang in the balance. My resolve snaps, and I crack my hand against her perfect, taut ass. "Mmm," she croons. "Do it again please."
I clench my hand into a fist, itching to spank her again, but not if she's begging for it.
"You don't know when to quit, do you?"
She sighs. "I will never stop trying to escape. You won't be able to keep me here forever. You know that."
"As if your brother will come and rescue you? I don't think so." We're steps from the house now. She may have tried to escape twice, but she hasn't gotten very far. "We investigated your background. We know where you stand with him."
I take the steps to my back door.
I battle growing respect and reluctant admiration for her spirit. I can't afford to show weakness, though.
"Oh? You think you know everything now, do you?"
I squeeze her ass in my palm, remembering how she almost caved when I turned her on. Maybe that's my key.
I spank her again, this time lighter before I run my palm along her ass. "Not yet, but I will. I do know this."
"Mmm?" she says in a low, seductive voice. I didn't know a woman could flirt while lying over my shoulder, but she does it with perfection. "What's that, handsome?"
I take her off my shoulder and slide her down the length of my body. My cock stiffens. I pull her to me and firmly grasp her chin in my hand. "There are other ways for me to keep you bound to me."
She blinks, confused. I don't bother to explain but take her by the hand and march back into the kitchen, where my brothers are still waiting, chatting among themselves. I sit down and hold her in front of me, my grip on her wrist firm and unmovable.
"Ah, you found her," Mikhail says. "Well done." He clicks his tongue. "You're playing with fire, Isabella."
"Your point?" she says haughtily. "It's the best type of play there is, Pakhan ."
I stifle a smile. This girl is ballsy as fuck.
Viktor releases a long-suffering sigh. "My wife would agree."
Wife.
Yes.
Wife.
Mikhail looks at me, as if the realization hit him the same time it did me. "Having a hard time keeping her restrained, are you, Lev?"
I nod, a wicked smile spreading across my face. "Yes and no. I could chain her to the bed. I could keep her suspended in my basement. I mean, it's an excellent view while I work out."
Isabella rolls her eyes, but she's tense.
"I need a way to bind her to me permanently."
"Yes," Mikhail says, nodding, as the rest of them sit up straighter, our next move clear. "There are other, more effective ways to shackle her to you, aren't there? It's time, Lev."
I nod. The others in my family have done their duty.
Mikhail married Aria when he'd been newly inducted as our leader. She'd infiltrated our ranks and needed protection, their union mutually beneficial. Aleks married Harper in an arranged marriage between two families. Nikko married Vera, another strategic power move to align both families, and Viktor's marriage to Lydia had a similar impact on us.
None of the unions we'd forced, arranged, or otherwise compelled were out of love but necessity. Every marriage strengthened our family and deepened our roots here in The Cove. Every child our family welcomed became a thread in the intricate tapestry of our legacy, binding us together and solidifying our reign.
It's my turn.
Conventional methods aren't going to keep Isabella bound to me. I need something permanent. And if I know her and her dedication to the mafioso life, the best way to ensure that is to make her mine, whether she likes it or not.
"You're thinking what I am," Mikhail says, his gaze locked on mine.
I nod and grip her wrist tighter. "Of course. Vows. Marriage." I put my mouth to her ear. "She takes my name and I knock her the fuck up."
Isabella stills. A low murmur ripples through my brothers.
"Yes," Mikhail says. "Most of us have taken this step. It will absolutely infuriate Morales, and there won't be anything he can do about it."
I pretend to think about it. "I agree."
Isabella's gaze grows wicked and calculating. She smirks at me, fury in her glare. She's trying to pretend like she's above wanting to murder me. "I really, really need to talk to your sister."
"You really, really don't."
Something in me thrills at having her bound to me in a way she can't control. While "love, honor, and obey" are laughable with a woman like her, she will be tied to me in a way even she, with all her skills, can't thwart.
My tone is cold and calculated when I look back at the screen. "She's left me no choice. Since I can't control her through fear, I'll have to bind her to me with something stronger."
Isabella seems stunned by my words. It may very well be the first time I've actually surprised her. She narrows her eyes and clenches her small but tight little fists.
"If you think forcing me to marry you will make me obedient to you, you are fucking delusional."
Viktor clicks his tongue. Aleks snorts. Mikhail, however, smiles. "I have zero doubt about your exceptional ability to make this work, Lev. I have full faith in you."
I stand, release the hold on her wrist, and bring her to my chest. She tries to pull away, to break free from the tight grip I have on her, but I won't allow it. She fights fiercely, her desperation evident.
"Prepare for the ceremony," I tell Mikhail. "I want this to happen as soon as possible."
Isabella screams, kicking and struggling, but she can't get away. "You can't do this! I will never be yours willingly!"
Interesting that she says nothing about her brother. I lean into the screen. "Can you make that happen, Mikhail?"
He nods. "Of course. Consider it done. Get her to family headquarters."
"Good. I'm going to sign off so I can help my fiancée… prepare. "
I click off and shove the iPad away.
I turn her around to face me. My voice is low and threatening when I grip her jaw like a vise and make her look into my eyes. "You know I have the right to kill you. But that would be a terrible way to ruin the potential benefits our marriage could bring to my family."
Her beautiful eyes widen even as she presses her lips together and refuses to respond. "I don't need your willingness, beautiful. I need your compliance."
"Forcing me to marry you changes nothing!" She tries to push away but can't. "Neither does calling me beautiful."
That protest is weaker, though. So much weaker.
I loosen my grip and move my hand down the length of her neck. Her pulse quickens beneath my fingers, a tangible sign of her fear and defiance.
"That's where you're wrong. A marriage between a Romanov and a Morales changes everything. "
In one swift move, I yank her in front of me. She screams, thrashing and fighting with all her might, but her struggles barely register. My grip tightens. I hope she knows how futile fighting me is.
"You say it as if we aren't even individuals. As if I'm not Isabella and you're not Lev." Her voice catches. "As if our identities are meaningless and the end justifies the means."
I scoff and shake my head. "You don't get it, Isabella. But you will. Who you are, who I am, that doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. None of it does." I grit my teeth. "And the sooner you stop fighting the inevitable, the better off you'll be."
Her eyes meet mine, a mixture of fury and something else swirling in their depths. Understanding? Resignation? I lean in, my lips brushing against her ear as I murmur, "We both know what we have to do now." This forced union will ignite a chain of events almost out of our control.
She lets out a ragged breath as if she understands the gravity of our situation. "We're in this together now, whether you like it or not," I say, my voice softer now but no less resolute. I feel a slow smile curve my lips. Being married to me will force her to be shackled to me… and so much more. "We can either fight it…" I brush my lips against her cheek. "Or welcome it. Make it ours."
I don't know why I feel the need to offer a hint of an olive branch. Fuck knows she doesn't deserve it.
She stops struggling, her body tense against mine, and for the first time, I feel a shred of something like compliance.
"I take very good care of what belongs to me," I say softly before I pull away. "Let's get you ready. I won't hold you captive anymore, either. You have free run of the place." I let her go and head to the door, pausing just before I leave. A fleeting look of desperate hope crosses her perfect face. "Go ahead and try all you like, Isabella. There is no escape. I'll catch you. I'll hunt you down. And I'll drag you back where you belong now."
I give her a final, lingering look, leaving the door open behind me on purpose. I want her to know freedom is an illusion; the real binds that keep us together are inevitable.
I can't fucking wait to see her in a wedding dress.
Wearing my ring.
Taking vows.
Bearing my child.
The more I think about it, the harder I fucking get.
I don't know why I didn't think of this earlier.