Forced By the Ruthless Bratva Beast (Tarasov Bratva #3)

Chapter 17 – Roman

The humming sound of the engine filled the car's cabin as I drove to Julia’s place to pay her a surprise visit.

I'd received a call from my house guard saying Julia had left the house in a hurry, and now I was curious as to why she'd stormed out without notifying me.

But I figured maybe she needed to get some stuff and that she would return once she got what she wanted. However, I couldn't head home directly from work, knowing that I could stop by her place and see for myself what she was up to.

Should her luggage be too heavy, I'd be more than happy to help. I wouldn't mind her staying at my place for as long as she wanted. She wasn't safe back at her apartment, at least not until the thing with the Cypher family was completely swept under the rug.

As I drove to get her, images of our time together last night kept flashing in my mind. Her moans echoed in my head, making me hard in my pants as a shiver ran through my body at the thought of how she was all in.

No restrictions, no reservations—Julia had given herself completely to me. She'd surrendered, fully submitted, and never held back on expressing that desire that filled her heart.

My hands rubbed over my face as I continued my journey, eyes fixed on the road, struggling to stay focused. These erotic scenes replaying in my head weren't helping; they were a distraction, a dangerous one that could cost me my life if I continued to entertain them.

I shook my head as though literally trying to shake them off, my grip tightening around the steering wheel. I drew a deep breath, making the decision to focus for now and sink back into my thoughts at a later time.

I would be no good to her or the Bratva or anyone at all if I was dead, dying in a car crash.

In no time, I regained control of my mind, seeking comfort in the possibility of getting laid at her apartment. We'd fucked all night at mine, from my office to my bedroom; it wouldn't be a bad idea to do the same at hers. Perhaps from her living room to her bedroom.

Fuck, that would be so hot.

I was losing myself with Julia, displaying acts of emotions when, deep down, I knew that I was playing a dangerous game. I wasn't sure exactly who she was—nothing about her was certain to me. Yet, I ignored my voice of reason and chose to give in to this…whatever this was.

Outside her apartment, I pulled over and killed the engine, eyes darting up toward her window, hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of her.

I exited the car and headed into the building, imagining the look she'd wear upon seeing me. My lips curled into a small smile just thinking about her reaction to my surprise visit.

Upstairs, my shoes clicked softly on the floor as I glided over to her door. I raised my hand to knock when my eyes dropped to the hinges, and I noticed the door wasn't locked.

My brows knitted together. Considering the situation at hand, she shouldn't have left the door open. What if I hadn’t been the one at the door?

I grabbed the handle, turned it, and opened the door, revealing the clean interior. I walked inside, scanning the room with my sharp eyes. Everything was in place, neat, and smelled nice compared to the last time I was here.

The rug in the living room, once stained with the blood of my victims, was replaced with an identical one—Boris had cleaned up the entire place, leaving no traces of us behind.

I walked around the house—her living room, kitchen, and bedroom—but she was nowhere to be found. In fact, I didn't think she'd been here since the incident.

If she left my place in such a hurry and didn't come here, where the fuck did she go then?

I clenched my jaw, a scowl settling on my face as I felt a pang of jealousy swell up inside me. Was she with another man? My teeth gritted as I stood in her room, wondering where on Earth she might be.

Withdrawing my phone from my pocket, I called her number, clasping the device over my ear. It was ringing on the other line, but she wasn't picking up.

My frown deepened as I called her back a second time. Still no answer.

“Fuck,” I mustered, harboring a series of unhealthy thoughts in my mind.

The idea that she might be with another man and the fact that I was completely in the dark about her current whereabouts was infuriating.

I resorted to texting Boris, telling him to find out where she was. After hitting the send icon, I shoved my phone back in my pocket, and just as I was about to leave her bedroom, my eyes caught something sticking out of a wallet resting on her bedside table.

My eyes narrowed at it.

It was a picture, and it piqued my curiosity, prompting me to step over to her table. I did, towering over it as I withdrew the photograph, my eyes widening in shock at the man and woman in that picture. It was Anthony and Margaret Gray with their two kids—a teenage girl and a boy of about ten.

My chest expanded, lips pressed into a thin line.

Why does she have a photograph of the Gray family?

My forehead creased in shock and bewilderment.

Peering closer, I realized that the teenage girl in the photograph had a pair of hazel eyes and silky dark hair. Instantly, I felt my temperature rising, my breaths quickening as I realized the girl in the picture was actually Julia. She was a lot younger then, but it was her. I was certain.

“What is this? What's going on here?” I wondered, my voice low and laced with a mix of shock and fury.

I recalled that night at the restaurant when I asked her about the Grays. It suddenly made sense why she got nervous, triggered by my question.

“Why did you hate him so much—Anthony Gray?” her voice echoed in my head.

I remembered seeing a glint of resentment in her eyes, but I'd ignored it.

Hit by a wave of consternation, I staggered a bit, reminiscing on how we'd met—how she'd seduced me at the club.

Julia had targeted me that night, and she'd been using me all this time.

My jaw tightened, fingers balling into fists. The scowl on my face deepened, as did the creases on my forehead. I blamed myself for getting carried away by her charms and ignoring all the signs my senses had picked up.

How had I let this happen?

Julia was clearly an enemy, and with the accuracy of her execution, I concluded that she'd been planning this for a long time.

Everything I thought had happened by chance, she'd orchestrated. She tricked me, fooled me, used me. Why? Because she thought I had a hand in her parents’ death?

How dare she manipulate me?

My rage was a living thing, pulsing through my veins and expanding my massive frame. Adrenaline surged through me, causing my muscles to tremble as I scrunched up the photo in my fist.

My hands shook, shoulders tensing as I unleashed a feral grunt, slamming into the wall—leaving a deep dent in the surface.