Vowed to the Bratva Boss (Koralev Bratva #1), page 1
Koralev Bratva Duet
Part I
SASHA LEONE
Copyright © 2020 by Sasha Leone
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Also by Sasha Leone
Criminal Sins
Envy
Vicious Angel
The Savage Royalty Series
Trapped With You
Koralev Bratva Duet
Vowed to the Bratva Boss (Book 1)
Broken From The Bratva (Book 2)
Other Standalones
Blood Bound
Contents
Mailing List
Vowed to the Bratva Boss
Acknowledgments
Prologue
1. Maxim
2. Billie
3. Maxim
4. Billie
5. Maxim
6. Billie
7. Maxim
8. Billie
9. Maxim
10. Billie
11. Maxim
12. Billie
13. Billie
14. Maxim
15. Billie
16. Maxim
17. Billie
18. Maxim
19. Billie
20. Maxim
Also by Sasha Leone
Mailing List
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Killing her could save my empire—
Too bad I have to marry her first.
Billie Parker.
Smart. Beautiful. Sassy.
Full of hate.
She’s the perfect arm candy for a man of my status.
… But I’m more interested in using her as a sacrifice.
You see, the Italian Mafia is out for revenge.
They want my family’s blood. Koralev Bratva blood.
And if I want to prevent a war, I’m going to have to give it to them.
Very well.
I’ll create a fake wife for them to kill.
… Billie Koralev… How does that sound?
Call it payback for that time she sent me to prison…
She won’t like it, of course. But I don’t care.
She will be my bride…
Or I will break her.
… Unless she can break me first.
Editor: C.J. Swan
Cover Design by Clarise Tan, CT Cover Creations
Prologue
Billie
Finally.
It’s over. School’s out. I’m free. Windsor Academy can kiss my ass.
After all these years of struggling to fit into this hoity-toity, gilded-prison, I can hardly believe that my only worry now is that I’ll be able to fit my plump backside out of its front doors.
“So long, suckers!” Callie shouts joyously, throwing her binder up in the air. White pages filled with now-useless notes fall all around us like confetti.
Next to me, Jackie raises her hands to the ceiling like she’s at a sermon. A big goofy grin crosses my face. God, it feels so good to be done with all this shit. It’s clear sailing from here on out, right?
“The cul-de-sac?” Callie asks, pointing her finger back and forth between Jackie and I. “The cul-de-sac?”
Before I can nod, Jackie swats at my hair and dislodges a piece of paper caught in my ‘fro. The last page of our high school days floats peacefully down to the grey stone floor below. “What are you ever going to do without me?” Jackie teases.
“I might just have to shave my head,” I smile.
“I’m down!” Callie chimes in. “Graduation head-shaves!”
Jackie snorts. “No way, girl. We’ve still got prom.”
Callie bites her lip and rolls her eyes. “You guys are so boring.”
“Us ‘guys’ don’t even have dates yet,” Jackie reminds her. I wish she hadn’t. What a way to put a damper on my good mood. “We need to stay looking good until we figure shit out on that front.”
“I don’t need a date if I’m not going,” I say defiantly, turning on my heels and looking out from our little circle of friends. The grand marble-arched school hallway is filled with other students celebrating the start of summer. Black lockers clang open and closed and makeshift confetti of all kinds rains down on the happy crowd. The floor is littered with school supplies—pencils, paper, binders, even the occasional cracked iPad. This is Windsor Academy after all. An iPad here is like a red solo cup at a cookout—so easily dispensable that it’s not even worth a second thought.
Callie and Jackie both groan simultaneously. Jackie’s not having it. “Stop it, Billie. You’re coming to prom, even if we have to go as each other’s dates.”
That garners a playful eyebrow raise from me. I seductively study my best friend’s figure, making a big show of licking my lips and squinting my eyes. It’s a complete mystery to me as to why Jackie doesn’t have a date yet. Well, not a complete mystery. The light skinned bombshell looks like a young Halle Berry, complete with the retro wavy pixie cut and all. Her big brown eyes shimmer with mischievous intelligence and her athletic body just screams ‘fun’. She’s a firecracker and not exactly shy; she could have any single guy at this school, but I have a bad feeling she only wants one: her ex, Chase Matthews. They broke up last semester and Jackie’s been dillydallying on the romance front ever since. I don’t mind. There isn’t anyone I really want to go to prom with, and having another single friend by my side would definitely help my bruised ego.
“I’d be happy to be your date,” I say, before Callie steps in between us.
“No way,” the red-haired, Irish-import declares. “You two need real dates, or else I’m going to feel left out!”
Jackie sucks her teeth and I shake my head. “Oh, poor you,” Jackie mocks. “You’ll look so foolish going to prom with the captain of the lacrosse team.”
I laugh, but an unwelcome pang of jealousy clatters around in my heart. Callie’s going to prom with Jaylen Whitaker, who, besides being tall and handsome and talented, is actually a good, decent guy—a rare commodity at a place like Windsor Academy. When am I going to get my knight in shining armour?
As if I even want one...
“It’s not like there’s a shortage of hotties around here,” Callie points out. Her pale blue eyes dart across the hallway, desperately looking for someone to prove her point. She’s not lying, of course, and it doesn’t take long for all of our gazes to land on some boys from the hockey team.
They body check each other against a row of lockers just off in the distance. Their soft blonde hair bounces up and down and their big flashy grins glare under the hallway lights. I grind my teeth. Not my type. Sure, one or two of them are good looking, but I also know all too well what they’re like inside. Bro-ish trust fund babies who are allergic to taking life too seriously. I can’t afford their style.
Don’t get me wrong, my family isn’t poor. But, still, we fly coach. These guys, on the other hand, all have their own private jets. I’m only at Windsor Academy because of my hard work, and I know that I’ll only continue to succeed if I can hold onto that work ethic. There’s no way I’m letting one of these old-money heirs get anywhere near me, no matter how pretty some of them might be. I mean, I’ve been able to hold them off for the past four years, so what’s a few more days?
“I don’t date hockey players,” Jackie says, reading my mind.
“One date is hardly ‘dating’,” Callie counters. “And I know for a fact that Jason Blackwater likes you.”
“Likes me?” Jackie asks.
“No. Billie.”
I can feel Jackie and Callie’s eyes on me, but suddenly, I’m hardly listening. My gaze has wondered past the group of hockey players. A new figure is marching down the hallway, all alone. He’s dark and brooding and the crowd subtly parts for him. I’d recognize those sullen broad shoulders anywhere.
Maxim Koralev.
The school asshole. Son of the most dangerous man in the state. My reluctant crush.
... I bet he isn’t going to prom.
I can’t help but stare as he bulldozes his way forward. His bright grey-green eyes are somehow visible even in the distance. His wavy black hair, parted in the middle, falls effortlessly down over his pale face. His sharp cheekbones cut through the air like angel wings and his red lips glisten in their semi-permanent snarl. The lean, athletic half-giant hardly looks of this world, and his laser-focus on something that no one else seems to be able to see only backs up that notion. While everyone around him celebrates, he looks as surly as ever, lost in his own thoughts. A dark contrast compared to the relative lightness of the hallway. A hush follows him.
The hockey players are the only ones who don’t seem to notice. Maxim doesn’t seem to care. He keeps walking straight ahead, and when one of them—Jason, I think his name is—takes a step back at just the wrong time, Maxim bowls through him like a hurricane through a tree. I watch as Jason stumbles forward, catching himself against a locker door. His buddies quickly turn to defend their friend, but when they see who’s responsible, their looks of anger immediately turn to fear.
No one fucks with Maxim. Even if his father wasn’t head of the biggest Bratva in the country, you’d still be hard pressed to find anyone who would dare challenge him. I’ve heard he’s 6”4 and 225 pounds—hardly the body of a teenager. Teachers and faculty have been begging him for years to play on a sports team; Callie, who’s a school cheerleader, says nearly every player on every team she’s ever cheered for has at one point or another talked strategy on how to recruit him to play for them. But you can’t push someone like Maxim. He does his own thing. Goes his own way. Takes only what he wants.
I bite the inside of my lip.
What does he want?
Maxim doesn’t even turn around to acknowledge the hockey players. Students stumble out of his way as he keeps marching forward.
“Hey!” comes a voice from behind Maxim’s broad shoulders. “HEY, ASSHOLE!”
The whole hallway quickly goes silent. Maxim doesn’t stop walking, though. His mind is somewhere else—I wonder where?
“I’M TALKING TO YOU, MAX!” It’s Jason. He’s red faced and angry. Maxim doesn’t respond, even after Jason slams a fist against his locker. The sound reverberates through the now silent hallway. The idiot.
I look at Jason like you’d look at a fool. My heart sinks when I see his eyes darting back and forth between Maxim and me. Fuck. Callie’s said before that Jason has a crush on me, right? Did he just catch me ogling Maxim? Is he going to try and prove himself, or do something equally stupid?
This isn’t the way to get a prom date, buddy, I try to telepathically tell the angry hockey player. This is how you get a trip to the hospital.
Luckily, for everyone, Maxim doesn’t seem to give two-shits about Jason’s little outburst. He’s so lost in his own world that it almost feels like a ghost has passed through me when he storms by; the gust from his huge body nearly knocking me off my feet.
I try not to turn around to see him go, but it’s no use. His shoulder blades are like magnets and I twirl around to watch as he stoically marches around the corner and out of view.
A door slams, and slowly, life comes back to the crowded hallway. People start chatting again. I take a deep breath, almost a sigh, and realize that I’ve clasped my hands together. I let go of myself and feel a hand on my shoulder.
“Shit, let’s get out of here,” Jackie says, pulling me back around. “Who knows if that monster will come back once he realizes that Jason was talking to him.”
“... I think he knows. He just doesn’t care,” I mutter. Maxim has his own life to attend to, and he doesn’t let anyone get in the way. I almost admire that quality in him. If he wasn’t so scary, then maybe I’d even let him know it...
“I kind of hope he comes back,” Callie giggles. I look at my pale, skinny friend like she’s crazy. “They can fight for your love, Billie. Oh, how romantic!”
Jackie and I both roll our eyes at the same time.
“Maxim couldn’t care less about me, or I him,” I half-lie. Truth is, I’d have a hard time saying no if he asked me to prom, but I also know that would never happen. He didn’t even look at me when he stormed by. But Callie must have seen how fixated I was on him.
“Yeah, well, Jason clearly likes you enough to risk getting killed over it. That’s sort of... cool, I guess?” Jackie laughs.
I shake my head. “I’m not interested in him. You’re my date now, Jackie. I’m swearing off men. They’re foolish creatures.”
“Nooo!” Callie shouts with a dramatic flair. “This isn’t over. I’ll get the two of you real dates if it’s the last thing I ever do!”
I wrap my arm around Callie’s shoulder. “How about we just get the fuck out of here already? We don’t ever have to come back and I can hear the cul-de-sac calling our names.
“Cul-de-sac?” I stretch my pointer finger out and wave it back and forth between my two friends. “Cul-de-sac?”
The late spring sunset bathes the field below in a radiant orange glow. Callie has her head against my shoulder, I have my head on Jackie’s shoulder. We watch in silence and I’m filled with a bittersweet melancholy. This is the end of my old life. The end of my childhood—as if my sparsely attended 18th birthday party didn’t already signify that.
A sigh escapes my lips as my gaze wanders away from the sunset and down to the brick ledge of our rooftop hangout, which stands between Windsor Academy’s southern-most field and a residential cul-de-sac.
There, carved into a red brick, are three E’s. I can still remember when we put them there.
Callie, Jackie and I have two nicknames for our little friend group. The first is ‘The Scholarship Gang’, because we’re all at Windsor Academy on scholarships. The second is ‘The Three Es’.
‘The Scholarship Gang’ nickname was self-proclaimed. Our lack of extreme wealth isolated us somewhat from the rest of the school, but the fact that the three of us got into Windsor Academy on our own accord bound us closer together than any chalet-vacation or tropical spring break trip ever could.
‘The Three Es’ nickname, on the other hand, was given to us by others—on account of all three of us having first names that end in ‘ie’. We’ve adopted the slogan for ourselves now, and, to me, the two nicknames have become synonymous. ‘The Three Es’. ‘The Scholarship Gang’. That’s us. Three girls from middle class backgrounds who’ve climbed our way up onto a higher rung of society through sheer force of will.
Our futures are bright, but uncertain. We’re also going to have to face them alone—or, at least, separately. We’re each headed off to different universities next year, and the thought of being torn apart has put a heavy damper on our mood.
Hell, Callie was even on the verge of a mini panic attack at one point during our little chill session. I dialled 911 on my cell phone and everything, before Jackie was able to calm her down. I still have the emergence number up on my screen, and I’m ready to push call in case my friend needs me, but for now, we’re all just watching the sunset together, one last time.
We don’t talk much, but one by one, Jackie and Callie’s phones buzz with texts from their parents, asking them to come home. I find it a little odd that I don’t get a similar text from my dad—he can be a little overbearing sometimes—but I’m more than happy to take the extra time to spend with my friends.
“I better get going,” Callie is the first to call it a night.
“Yeah, same here. I’ll help you home,” Jackie adds.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” I ask Callie.
Callie nods and we all stand up together. I wipe the rooftop gravel from my navy-blue skirt and give her a long, tight hug.
“You coming with us?” Jackie asks, as she leads Callie to the fire-escape at the other end of the roof.
I consider it for a second, before shaking my head. “I’m going to hang out here for a little while longer,” I tell them, waving goodbye as they disappear down the ladder.
A deep sigh escapes my mouth. The moment’s so bittersweet it’s almost overwhelming. I don’t want to move; I just want to take it all in for as long as I can bear.
I sit back down on the ledge and wait until the sun has nearly disappeared below the horizon, before I finally decide to call it a night. A soft wind wraps around my school uniform as I climb down the fire-escape towards the cul-de-sac. The night’s peaceful and quiet. In the distance I can hear police sirens, but that’s not unusual. The rest of the city isn’t nearly as safe as this privileged little haven. It’s a fact I know all too well.
