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

Chapter 22 – Julia

“Let me out! Let me outta here!” I pounded my palms against the door, my mind racing.

Roman had captured me and my brother, forcing us to return to Chicago with him. It wasn't like we had a choice anyway. I couldn't resist his order—couldn't jeopardize the life of my younger brother.

I was trapped in a room at his mansion, locked away from the rest of the world and having no idea where my brother was. I didn't know whether or not he was safe, and I had no clue what Roman would do to him.

My safety wasn't really my concern at the moment; I knew the last thing Roman would do was hurt me while I was carrying his baby. He was furious at me and probably even hated me, but I doubted that he'd do anything to harm his unborn child.

He'd made sure we stopped at a hospital for a paternity test, the results of which would usually take about 3 to 5 days. But knowing Roman's influence and power, he must have paid a premium to secure immediate processing.

Roman's expression was stoic even after the results, but for a fraction of a second, his mask slipped, and I caught a glimpse of an emotion he struggled to conceal.

In his eyes was a fleeting spark, barely perceptible beneath his icy stare. But I was fast enough to catch it—hence the reason I knew he wouldn't harm me. At least not yet, for the sake of the baby.

My brother, on the other hand, was way beyond my reach, and the fact that I had no idea where he was or how he was doing was killing me.

I glared at the door, resuming my noisemaking, relentlessly slamming my fist despite my aching palms. “Let me outta here! Let me out!” I screamed, almost losing my voice.

The knowledge that, for now, I was somewhat safe from Roman's wrath—thanks to the baby in my womb—was the determining factor for my behavior. I wasn't going to stop until someone eventually got tired of my drama and came to answer me.

I could do this all day.

I'd been at this for the past one hour, and honestly, I was just getting started.

“Let me…!” I hadn't completed the sentence when I heard the door click from outside.

Finally.

I drew back, my chest swelling at the thought of who my noise had pissed off. Was it him?

What's he gonna do to me?

I swallowed hard, feeling the dryness in my throat.

The door opened, and two women—both in their late forties—waltzed into the room clad in matching black and white outfits. I assumed they were Roman's maids, and I wasn't wrong.

They glided over to me, one wearing a blank expression, the other flashing me a faint smile with a tray of fresh clothes in her hands.

“Why have you decided to disturb the peace of the house?” a thick, masculine voice spoke from the entrance, a dark whisper that sent sudden chills coursing through my veins.

My heart skipped a beat as the low, gravelly tone washed over me, causing my breath to cease for a moment. I jerked my head at the heavily built man standing by the door, imposingly tall.

As we locked eyes, his cold and hollow depths bore into mine in a way that made my skin crawl with unease. The scowl on his rugged face was so deep that I felt a tremor sprint through my very core, awakening a primal fear.

It was him. Boris, aka “The Bull.”

I’d researched him while prepping for my mission. He wasn't someone I wanted to mess around with. Boris was the man who held my brother at gunpoint when Roman had invaded Bigfork, Montana. Clearly, he had the answers I was looking for.

“Where's my brother?” I summoned the courage to ask, struggling to hold his intimidating gaze.

He stood sentinel at the door, his hollow eyes never leaving my face. I was terrified by his icy stare, but I wouldn't let him see my fear. Despite my heaving chest, I struggled to maintain composure.

“Where's Tommy?” I repeated, ignoring the maids standing beside me. “I just wanna know that he's safe.”

“If you do not wish for anything bad to happen to him, then you will do as you're told,” he said, his tone dripping with authority as he shifted his gaze to the maids beside me. “Get her ready.”

I squinted, brows narrowing. “Ready for what?”

He ignored me and dematerialized, leaving me with the maids.

I turned to face them as they were already taking off my clothes, their hands flying all over me.

“What's going on?” I asked, my confused eyes darted between them.

The next thing I knew, I was stripped down to my underwear. My brows furrowed as I stepped away from them, uncomfortable with my ignorance. “Stop. What're you doing?”

“We're here to get you ready, and we need to bathe you first,” the one with the blank expression said to me.

My brows arched instantly, mirroring my shock, and bewilderment settled on my face. “What do you mean, bathe me ? I can bathe myself. What are you getting me ready for?”

“Shh.” The smiley one shushed me, index finger pressed over her lips. “Do as you're told, remember?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

I was perplexed by everything happening at the moment, but she was right. The instructions for my brother's safety were to do as I was told.

I heaved a sigh, letting my guard down.

The maids led me to the bathroom and bathed me with warm water. Their delicate hands sponged my pale skin in the bathtub, and it was weird at first, but with time, I loosened up a little.

Once done, they dressed me up in a nice, flowered, knee-length white dress. They applied a light layer of makeup to my face, blending it seamlessly with my skin tone.

“You look beautiful,” the smiley one said, her lips curling into a grin.

I stared at my reflection—indeed, I was with my silky black hair styled to perfection. “Thank you,” I replied, feeling a faint warmth on my cheeks.

Resisting the urge to ask what was really going on was a hard thing to do. I knew I could get through to the smiley maid, but the one with the blank expression was cold as ice. I felt like she was there to make sure I remained oblivious to what was happening.

I left the room and joined Boris, who was already waiting for me, standing outside a sleek black Mercedes Benz.

All through the drive, there was radio silence in the car's cabin, punctuated only by the sound of the humming engine. I was seated at the back, wondering where he was taking me and too afraid to ask. My heart was pounding in my chest. This uncertainty was gnawing dangerously at my mind.

After a short drive, Boris pulled over in front of the Chicago County Courthouse, the magnificent building looming before us.

My breath hitched in my throat when he opened the door and stepped out, gesturing for me to do the same.

I hesitated for a moment, thinking of so many reasons why we were here, but only one seemed to make sense to me. But no. It couldn't be. Could it?

My chest suddenly became heavy as I exited the car, eyes drinking in the building's imposing stone facade, ornate windows, and soaring clock tower.

We stepped into the courthouse, enveloped by the grand foyer's high ceilings and ornate chandeliers. My heels clicked against the fine marble floor, polished to mirror one's reflection as Boris led me through a bustling hallway.

We passed rows of wooden benches and courtrooms, then ascended a large staircase, gliding over to a room labeled “Wedding Chapel.”

Before I could process what I'd just read, the door before me swung open, and as we stepped inside, my heart sank into my chest.

I stood frozen in shock as I locked eyes with Roman, dressed in his usual black suit, standing before a judge. A stern expression was plastered on his face, leaving no room for objection.

A few of his men were present, scattered here and there, all wearing serious expressions.

I didn't need anyone to tell me what this was.

It was a fucking court wedding.

That faint voice in my head that had, a few minutes ago, whispered the possibility of this event now screamed at me to run.

I flinched at the sound of the door locking behind me, and instantly, I turned around, only to see Boris manning the exit, arms across his chest.

“Please, let me through,” I said, eyes misting at the dawn of my reality.

He ignored me, his gaze unwavering.

I glanced back at Roman, my hands trembling and my throat so dry that I found it difficult to swallow. With an instinctive move, I jolted back toward the door in a failed attempt to escape.

Two of his men grabbed me by the hands and pushed me toward the mean-looking man standing before the judge.

I could hear my heart pounding in my heavy chest. My lips quivered as I struggled to move my jelly legs forward, eyes fixed on Roman.

It was foolish to resist.

Roman's glare was intimidating enough, and his men surrounded me. There was no way in hell that I could make it out of here without obliging to his will. He hadn't said a word to me yet, but his gaze seemed to dare me to resist.

This wasn't a fight that I could win, and I wasn't going to let my stubbornness get in the way of Tom's safety. I'd been asked to do as I was told if I wanted nothing bad to happen to him.

Was this the price I was going to pay, going into a forced marriage with someone who clearly hated me?

My heart shattered into a million tiny pieces as tears rolled down my cheeks at the realization that my fate had been sealed. I was doomed.

But why was he marrying me when he despised me so much?

It was the baby that I was carrying.

I'd read about the Russian tradition and how a man was supposed to wed the woman carrying his child.

I finally stopped beside him, shoulders slumped, my body language screaming defeat as the weight of my circumstance bore me down. My gaze dropped to the floor, unable to meet Roman's or the judge's, while I trembled uncontrollably. Staying still was difficult as the shaking betrayed my inner turmoil.

“Gentlemen, we are gathered here today to witness the marriage of Roman Tarasov and Julia Gray,” the judge began, his voice cutting through my thoughts. “By the authority vested in me by the laws of the state, I will hereby join these individuals in marriage.”

I shut my eyes, and tears flowed like a river. This was really happening, and there was nothing that I could do about it. If this would make Roman spare Tom's life, then I would gladly succumb to his will. I would be his toy, a container carrying his child.

All through the ceremony, I wept in silence, and no one gave a shit—not even the judge, whose voice I'd drowned out until now.

“Julia Gray, do you take Roman Tarasov to be your husband and to accept the responsibilities of marriage as provided by law?” he asked.

I lifted my eyes and hooked my gaze upon Roman's stern stare. “Yes, I do.” My voice was barely above a whisper, lips twitching at the corners as I struggled to hold in the urge to burst out crying.

The judge's gaze shifted to Roman, and he asked the same question.

“I do,” Roman replied, his expression blank.

“By the power bestowed upon me, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” came the judge's final declaration.

His words pierced my heart and crushed my soul, prompting my eyes to shut and my shoulders to slump in dismay.

“You are hereby declared married, and your union is recognized as valid and binding under the laws of the state,” he said, his voice dripping with finality.

I flinched at the sudden bang of his gavel that sealed my fate.

A document was handed down, and Roman withdrew a pen as he accepted it and signed it before passing it to me. I didn't have a choice but to put down my own signature, signifying my agreement.

We were both escorted out of the building to Roman's black Ferrari, where he slipped into the driver's seat, with me riding shotgun.

As he drove away from the courthouse, an awkward silence settled between us until I summoned the courage to break it.

I turned to face him, his eyes fixed on the road. “Did you really have to do this? Did you have to force me into spending the rest of my life with you, knowing that you hate me so much?”

“I do hate you,” he replied keenly, his words digging into my heart like a sharp blade as he stole a glance at me. “But this is beyond me and you. My tradition obligates me to marry you for obvious reasons.” His eyes dropped to my swollen belly. “And I intend to honor it.”

I met his cold gaze for a fleeting moment, my breath hitching in my throat.

His voice fell to a deadly warning, a low whisper that shattered my nervous system. “Make no mistake, Julia Gray. Just because you carry my child doesn't mean that I won't make you suffer for what you did. I have a million different ways to torture you and make your life a living hell.” He paused, as if savoring the fear in my eyes. “You're mine now. I own you.”

His last words scraped against my nerves, sending shivers through my core. I swallowed, eyes widening at the awareness of my reality.

We were only bound by paper; outside that, we would be two strangers living in the same house.

He wouldn't regard me as a wife, and he'd spend most of his time with his whores while I remained locked up in his mansion.

My biggest fear wasn't about how he'd treat me or the horrors I'd have to endure in this union. No. My biggest fear was what would become of our child when they came of age. They'd be a part of this life of violence, surrounded by the men who ruined my life.

They'd learn their father's cruel ways and become yet another brute. What was to say he wouldn't kill me when he no longer needed me to raise the child?

The thought of this possibility broke my heart, and a fresh stream of tears started to roll down my cheeks.

I'm fucked.