Kidnapped by the Bratva (Sharov Bratva #5)

Chapter Twenty - Sophia

I wander around the mansion, my steps aimless as my mind drifts back to the thoughts that seem to consume me more and more lately—my father, the wedding, this life I’ve been forced into. There’s a heaviness in my chest that hasn’t lifted since his death. I still can’t believe he’s gone, that I’ll never hear his voice again. Marrying Maxim was the only way to secure the future of the American Mafia and avenge my father, but sometimes, it feels like I’ve lost myself in the process.

As I continue walking, I find myself in an unfamiliar part of the estate. I push open a door, and it leads to a hidden garden, tucked away behind high walls and overgrown hedges. The air smells faintly of damp earth and wilting leaves. I step in, surprised by what I find—a neglected sanctuary, the once-beautiful plants now drying out and shriveling from lack of care.

My heart aches at the sight of it. I always had a passion for gardening, something that felt like my own little escape from the chaos of life. In college, I was heavily involved in environmental conservation efforts and even participated in a few NGOs. It was the one place where I felt like I could make a real difference. Seeing this garden like this—it feels like a reflection of my own life, withering away, ignored and forgotten.

I kneel beside one of the dying plants, running my fingers over its brittle leaves. “You’re not getting the right nutrition,” I murmur to the plant, frowning as I examine the soil. It’s too dry, too compact. These plants need water, care—life.

I stand up, brushing the dirt off my hands, lost in thought as I take in the sad state of the place. I make a mental note to find out what these plants need, maybe fix up the garden myself. It’s not like I have much else to do here, and maybe it’ll give me some peace of mind.

Just as I’m thinking this, I hear footsteps behind me. I turn around and see Maxim approaching, his expression unreadable as always. My body tenses instinctively at the sight of him. He’s such a complex man—harsh, controlling, yet in certain moments, like the night of our wedding, there’s something softer underneath. Something I don’t understand.

He stops a few steps away, looking around the garden with mild curiosity. “What are you doing out here?” he asks, his deep voice breaking the silence.

I hesitate for a second, unsure how much to share, but then I gesture to the plants. “The garden… it’s dying,” I say simply. “The plants need proper care, the right soil, water, sunlight. They’ve been neglected.”

Maxim raises an eyebrow, glancing around at the drying leaves and browning flowers. “You know a lot about this?” he asks, his tone neutral, but there’s a hint of interest there.

I nod, feeling a little more comfortable as I talk about something I actually enjoy. “Yeah, I’ve always been passionate about gardening and the environment in general. I was part of several NGOs in college, working on conservation projects, trying to make a difference.” I trail off, feeling a bit awkward. Why am I telling him this?

Maxim’s eyes narrow slightly, and for a moment, I wonder what he’s thinking. He’s so hard to read, always keeping his emotions locked away behind that cold exterior. I wait for him to say something dismissive, maybe tell me I’m wasting my time. But instead, he surprises me.

“You think you can fix this garden?” he asks, crossing his arms as he leans against one of the stone pillars.

“I… I don’t know,” I admit, glancing around at the mess. “It’s pretty bad. With the right tools and some time, I could try.”

Maxim nods, his gaze still focused on me. “If it’s something you care about, then do it.”

His words catch me off guard. I wasn’t expecting him to care or even give me permission. He’s never really asked me about what I want or what I enjoy before, and I don’t know how to process the fact that he’s being… supportive? Or maybe he just doesn’t care what I do, as long as it doesn’t interfere with his plans.

Still, the idea of fixing the garden, of bringing something back to life, fills me with a little hope. It’s something to focus on, something that feels like me in the midst of all this chaos.

“I’ll need some supplies,” I say after a moment, testing the waters. “I’ll have to get new soil, some tools, maybe even new plants.”

“Make a list,” he says, straightening up. “I’ll have Artem get everything you need.”

I blink, surprised at how easily he’s agreed. “Really?”

He shrugs, his eyes locking on to mine. “You’re my wife, Sophia. If this is what you want to do, then do it.”

I swallow, nodding slowly. It’s strange, feeling like I have some sort of control over something, even if it’s just a garden. I’m not sure how to feel about the fact that he’s giving me this, but for now, I’ll take it.

“Thank you,” I say quietly, almost unsure of how to express my gratitude without feeling… beholden to him.

I walk closer to him, feeling a small smile tug at the corners of my lips. “I appreciate this, you know,” I say, my voice soft but filled with more certainty than before.

Maxim watches me, his intense gaze never wavering. For a moment, I expect him to brush it off or tell me it doesn’t matter, but instead, his lips curve into a faint smirk. “What’s mine is yours,” he says. “You don’t need permission for it, Sophia. You can do whatever you want.”

His words take me by surprise. There’s a strange sincerity in them, something I didn’t expect from him. Maybe he’s not as bad as I thought. Maybe all of this—the tension between us, the power struggles, the fear—stemmed from the horrible circumstances we were thrown into.

My father’s death, his need for revenge… I realize that, in a way, Maxim’s anger was valid. He’s lost people too. He’s had to carry that same rage I feel, and maybe, just maybe, that’s something we have in common.

A sudden awareness fills the space between us. I meet his eyes, feeling something shift, like I’m seeing him for the first time, not as the man who kidnapped me or the man who married me out of necessity, but as someone who might understand me more than I initially realized.

“That smile suits you,” he says, his voice dropping slightly, a hint of warmth creeping in. “You should wear it more often.”

I blink, caught off guard by the compliment, and before I can stop myself, I blush. The heat spreads across my cheeks, and I look down, embarrassed. How does he do that? How does he make me feel so exposed with just a few words?

Maxim takes a step closer, his body now only inches from mine. His presence feels overpowering, but not in a way that scares me—more like a force that pulls me in. My breath catches in my throat as I feel the tension between us thicken, the air around us buzzing with something electric. He reaches out, his hand grazing my chin, lifting my face so that I’m looking directly at him.

“You’re beautiful when you blush,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheek. “I want to see that look on you more often.”

His words send a shiver down my spine, and before I can think, before I can stop it, the distance between us disappears. Our lips crash together, and it’s not gentle like before. This kiss is rough, heated, filled with the arousal that’s been simmering between us since our first time.

Maxim’s hands grip my waist, pulling me flush against him as he deepens the kiss, his tongue demanding entry. I gasp into his mouth, my fingers instinctively finding their way to his hair, tugging slightly as I give in to the heat building between us. He groans into my mouth, his need for me palpable in every touch, every movement.

I don’t know how we ended up here, but I can’t stop it. I don’t want to stop it.

Maxim breaks the kiss just long enough to spin me around, pushing me back against a tree. His weight presses down on me, his lips trailing down my neck, his breath hot against my skin. I arch into him, my body responding to him with an urgency I can’t control. His hands slide down my sides, gripping my hips roughly as he settles between my legs.

“I want you, Sophia,” he growls against my neck, his voice thick with desire. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you, and I’m done waiting.”

His words send a rush of heat through me, and I can’t help but moan softly as he tugs at my clothes, his hands working quickly to strip me down. There’s nothing gentle about this moment. It’s raw, intense, and I can feel the fire between us burning hotter with every passing second.

Maxim’s eyes darken with hunger as he looks at me, his hands roaming over my body, touching me everywhere, claiming me in ways I never imagined. I don’t feel like I’m in control anymore, and for the first time, I don’t care.

I want him too.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice low and rough. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.”

I meet his gaze, my breath coming out in ragged gasps. “I want you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible, but it’s enough.

That’s all he needs. He moves quickly, positioning himself as he pushes into me with a force that makes my back arch. The sensation is overwhelming, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me as he moves, each thrust rougher than the last. His grip on me is tight, almost possessive, like he’s afraid to let go.

I don’t fight it. I can’t.

“Fuck, Sophia,” he groans, his movements becoming more erratic as he leans down, capturing my lips in another searing kiss. I kiss him back just as fiercely, matching his intensity as our bodies move together in a rhythm that feels both foreign and perfect at the same time.

Every hot touch feels like it’s fueling the fire between us, pushing us closer to the edge. When we finally fall over that edge, it’s explosive. My body trembles beneath him as I come undone, my hands gripping his shoulders as he rides out the storm with me. The orgasm hits me so hard, my vision goes white.

Maxim’s grip on me tightens, his pace faltering as he finds his own release, his head dropping to my shoulder as he groans deeply against my skin.

For a long moment, neither of us says anything. We just hover there, our breaths mingling as we come down from the high of what just happened.

He leans down, brushing a soft kiss against my lips, and for a second, I almost feel… content. Like maybe, despite everything, this could work.

As I lie against him, propped against the tree, the reality of our situation starts to creep back in. This isn’t love. This is something else entirely—something dangerous.

Yet, I can’t stop wanting him.