Kidnapped by the Bratva (Sharov Bratva #5)

Chapter Eighteen - Sophia

I wake up slowly, feeling a dull ache in my legs and abdomen that immediately reminds me of last night. My mind is still hazy, but flashes of what happened start coming back to me—the way Maxim touched me, the way his hands claimed every part of my body. I shift uncomfortably, wincing as I sit up. My body feels sore in places I hadn’t even thought about before.

I glance over at the empty side of the bed. Maxim isn’t there, but before I can wonder where he went, the bathroom door opens, and he steps out, a towel slung low around his waist. His broad, muscular chest glistens with beads of water, and his abs tighten as he walks toward me. I quickly look away, my cheeks flushing as last night floods back into my mind.

God, what is wrong with me? I think, feeling heat crawl up my neck. I’m supposed to hate him. He’s the man who kidnapped me, the man who used me as a pawn. Yet here I am, blushing like some naive schoolgirl. Why did it all feel so good? I can still feel the ghost of his touch on my skin, and the thought makes my stomach flutter in a way I don’t want to acknowledge.

“See something you like?” Maxim’s voice is low and teasing, pulling me out of my thoughts. I can hear the smirk in his tone without even looking at him. My face flushes even deeper, and I bite my lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

I turn my gaze to the window instead, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through my body. Last night was… overwhelming. I didn’t expect to feel the things I did, didn’t expect to want him the way I did. It’s confusing, frustrating. How am I supposed to make sense of my feelings when everything inside me feels so twisted?

“I’d offer you a shower, but I doubt you could even stand long enough to take one,” Maxim chuckles as he walks toward the dresser, his voice thick with amusement. I glance at him briefly, feeling a flicker of annoyance at his cocky tone, but I don’t say anything.

My legs are sore— everything is sore. He’s right, but I’m not about to let him know that. I sit up carefully, trying not to wince too much, and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Maxim turns to me, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he tosses something in my direction. I catch it before it hits me—a T-shirt.

“Here,” he says, still smirking. “Wear this.”

I look down at the oversized shirt in my hands and quickly pull it on, grateful to have something covering me. It’s way too big, falling past my knees, but I don’t care. At least it’s comfortable.

Maxim leans back against the dresser, his arms crossed over his chest as he watches me with an almost predatory gaze. “You look good in my clothes,” he says, his voice teasing. “Though, I think you looked better last night.”

My face burns with embarrassment. “Stop,” I mutter, standing up. My legs feel weak beneath me, but I don’t want him to see how much he’s affecting me. I take a step, determined to walk past him, but the second I put weight on my legs, my knees buckle. I stumble, nearly falling, but before I hit the floor, Maxim’s hands are on me, steadying me.

His grip is firm but gentle as he helps me stand upright. His closeness sends my heart racing, and for a moment, I hate how much my body reacts to him. I hate that his touch ignites something inside me that I can’t control.

“Careful,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. “Looks like I was right.”

I glare up at him, hating the smug look on his face. “I’m fine,” I snap, though the weakness in my legs tells a different story.

“Sure, you are,” he says, his voice dripping with amusement. “You should thank me for last night. I was gentle, considering it was your first time.”

I swallow hard, feeling my stomach twist. The memory of his hands on me, the way he took control, flashes through my mind, and I feel a heat creeping up my body again. How could I have enjoyed it? How could I have wanted more?

I pull away from him, putting as much distance between us as the room allows. “It doesn’t matter,” I mutter, wrapping my arms around myself. “This is all just a business arrangement, right?”

Maxim’s expression darkens slightly, though that smirk never fully leaves his lips. “Business or not, you’re my wife now,” he says, his voice low, dangerous.

The words send a shiver down my spine, and I hate that it’s not entirely out of fear. There’s something else—something I don’t want to admit, but it lingers in the back of my mind. The idea of being his, of belonging to him, stirs something deep inside me. Something I’m not ready to confront.

“Take a bath,” he says, his tone softening slightly as he steps away. “You’ll feel better.”

I watch him walk back to the dresser, pulling out clothes for himself. His back is to me now, and I take the moment to compose myself, trying to calm the racing of my heart. I can’t let him see how much he’s affecting me. I won’t.

Slowly, I turn and walk toward the bathroom, the soreness in my body making each step feel like a challenge. As I reach the door, I glance back at him one last time. He’s still there, still watching me, and the intensity in his gaze makes my breath hitch.

I slip into the bathroom, closing the door behind me, and lean against the cool tile, trying to make sense of everything. Maxim is a monster. He’s the man who took me, the man who forced me into this marriage. Yet, I can’t shake the way his touch made me feel last night—the way he made me feel alive in a way I haven’t in a long time.

That terrifies me.

I sit on the cool tile floor for a moment, trying to process everything that’s happened. My body still aches, a constant reminder of last night, and my mind is in a whirl of conflicting emotions. I know I shouldn’t feel anything for Maxim—he’s the man who took me, after all. He’s ruthless, cold, and calculated. Yet, I can’t deny the strange pull I feel toward him, the way his touch lingers on my skin, making me want more, even when I hate myself for it.

The door creaks open, and I look up, startled. Maxim steps in, his eyes locking with mine. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but the intensity of his gaze makes my heart race. I’m still sitting on the floor, wrapped in nothing but his oversized T-shirt, feeling small and vulnerable under his scrutiny. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but no words come out. The embarrassment is too much.

Without a word, he walks toward me, his expression unreadable. Before I can react, he scoops me up effortlessly, his strong arms wrapping around me as he lifts me off the floor. My body tenses, but I don’t resist. I’m too surprised by the sudden gesture, too overwhelmed by how easy it feels to let him carry me.

He carefully lowers me into the bathtub, turning on the warm water. Then, he lifts my shirt over my head. The heat immediately soothes my aching muscles, and I sink into the tub, letting the tension ease from my body.

I glance up at him, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and confusion. “Thank you,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. It feels strange to say those words to him, but I mean them. For all his cruelty, this moment feels almost… kind.

Maxim doesn’t respond right away. His eyes linger on me for a moment, studying my face as if searching for something. Then, with a nod, he turns to leave, his heavy footsteps echoing against the tiled floor.

Just as he reaches the door, something surges within me, a fire that I’ve been trying to keep down since I learned of my father’s death. I can’t let this go—not his murder, not the injustice of it all. My voice comes out stronger than I expect, filled with a rawness that surprises even me.

“Maxim,” I call out, my words stopping him in his tracks. He turns slightly, looking over his shoulder. “Avenge my father,” I say, my voice steady, determined.

There’s a beat of silence as he stands there, his back still turned to me. I can see his shoulders tense slightly, the muscles in his back rippling beneath his skin. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and I begin to wonder if he’s just going to leave without a response.

“I haven’t forgotten,” I continue, my voice softer now but still firm. “I know this is all business to you. I know what this marriage is. My father’s death—it wasn’t supposed to happen like that. He didn’t deserve it. None of this should have happened.”

Maxim turns fully now, his face still impassive, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something darker, something dangerous. He takes a step toward me, his presence filling the room as he moves closer. The air between us feels thick, charged with tension.

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice is low, a quiet fury ready to erupt. “You think I’ve forgotten what Fernando did to my father? What he did to yours?” He steps closer, his gaze locked on mine, unyielding. “I don’t forget. I certainly don’t forgive.”

I can feel my pulse quicken as he looms over the tub, his intensity wrapping around me like a vise. I swallow hard, but I don’t back down. “Then do it,” I say, my voice firm. “Avenge him. Make them pay for what they did.”

Maxim’s eyes flash with something dark and dangerous, and for a moment, I think he’s going to snap at me. Instead, he leans down, his face inches from mine, his breath hot against my skin.

“They will pay,” he says, his voice a low growl. “Every single one of them.”

I hold his gaze, refusing to look away. For all his faults, I believe him. I can see it in his eyes—the same hatred, the same hunger for revenge that’s burning inside me. He means it.

Maxim straightens up, turning toward the door again. “Rest,” he says, his tone softer now, though still commanding. “You’ll need your strength.”

I watch him go, the door closing behind him with a soft click. The sound lingers in the air, but the weight of our conversation hangs even heavier.

I sink deeper into the warm water, my body finally relaxing, but my mind is racing. The images of my father flash through my head—the way he smiled, the way he cared for me despite everything. He didn’t deserve to die. I squeeze my eyes shut, letting the heat of the water soothe my aching heart.

Maxim may be ruthless, cold, and brutal. But I know one thing for sure now—he hasn’t forgotten. And he won’t stop until he’s exacted his revenge.

For the first time in days, I feel a strange sense of relief, even in the midst of my confusion. At least I know that my father’s death won’t go unanswered. Maxim will see to that.