Given to the Bratva
: Chapter 1

My father wants me dead.

Anastasia Evanoff stood at the party, holding a glass of wine, not daring to drink it, trying not to look in the direction of her husband. Everyone was giving her a wide berth, and this had been the same since they were married. Nothing changed. She didn’t know why Bogdan brought her here. No one could stand her.

Prior to getting married, she’d been a Rinaldi. Her father had been looking for a way to get rid of her for years. Now, at the age of twenty-one, she was married and knew she would be lucky to survive to twenty-two. She imagined the only reason she made it to her current age was the fact that it was her birthday on the day of the wedding ceremony. She didn’t know what business her father had with Bogdan Evanoff that would result in her marrying him.

First, her father was part of the Italian mafia, and Bogdan was part of the Bratva. Her late mother had told her to never get involved with her father’s business, and so far she’d been able to steer clear of everything. Maybe it was because she and her mother for the longest time had lived apart from her father. Anastasia didn’t know what had brought her parents together, but she had a rough idea what separated them—her.

Her mother, Evelyn, had a difficult pregnancy, and after she gave birth to Anastasia, she nearly died. It resulted in Evelyn losing her ability to have children. There would be no son and no heir for her father, Dante. So, rather than continue to love his wife, he moved her out to the country, saw her sparingly, and from all accounts, replaced her with his favorite mistress.

For eighteen years Anastasia grew up without her father, but she had the love and devotion of her mother. They wanted for nothing. All the while, she knew her father had another woman, and he also had children with that woman—several sons, and a couple of daughters. After Evelyn passed away, Dante married his mistress, securing his heirs and his position within the family he worked for. Anastasia was moved out of her country home, and most of her possessions were given to her sisters or sold.

She had a much smaller room at their townhome, and she was considered a vulture. Her so-called brothers couldn’t stand her, nor could her sisters. She didn’t conform or comply.

When her brothers attempted to attack her, she had never been more grateful to her mother for her insistence on the self-defense classes she’d been forced to attend. Fighting was not something she liked, however, she was good at it.

Gustov, the man her mother got to train her, would not allow her to leave his lessons without learning something. Then, of course, he would attack her to make sure she had picked up whatever she needed from the lessons. It had been three years since she saw Gustov. She missed him. He attended her mother’s funeral.

Much to her father’s annoyance, her mother had been loved by most of the family, including the boss man himself, Piero.

None of her mother’s popularity had stopped her father. After a week, it was like she didn’t exist. So, when her brothers started to hurt her, she put them in their place, as she did her sisters.

She tried to steer clear of any conversation at parties, but these people had been friends with her mother, and some she recognized. They tried to bring her out of her shell, but it was all for nothing. Her father had other plans for her.

Just because she tried to be invisible at parties didn’t mean she wasn’t aware of the tumultuous relationship between the Italian mafia and the Bratva. Especially the Galkin Bratva. The very one her husband worked for.

She didn’t know the exact details, just the rumor that Bogdan was the boss’s right-hand man. Only, he was like the executioner within the Bratva. It was his job to hunt and kill. Bogdan Evanoff had a reputation that terrified her.

Their marriage was a business negotiation. She didn’t know the specifics, but she had already lost her virginity to her husband on their wedding night. A ceremony her father had insisted upon. In the morning, the vultures had circled. She had a horrible feeling her father wanted her dead on her wedding night. Did he believe she hadn’t been a virgin? She would think so from his reaction.

As it happened, she loved her mother and spent as much time with her as possible. She knew, in some weird way, Evelyn had loved Dante. There were times she caught her mother crying, and there was no way of ignoring it. Her mother was so sad at losing the love of Dante Rinaldi. She had poured all that love into her daughter. Anastasia became the woman she was today because of her mother.

Glancing around the room at the very formal party, she saw the men dressed in suits, although most of them looked way too big to fit into a suit.

The Bratva were all trained. She knew there were men within the family that could fight and kill. Like her father, Bogdan had soldiers, and rarely got his hands dirty. There were others that hunted.

Glancing at her husband, she had a feeling they didn’t need all the soldiers stationed at every one of his homes. He took her everywhere with him. She had a feeling it was because he didn’t trust her. Either way, she had never been so … observed in all her life.

Growing up with her mother, and during the last three years, she’d been able to do her own thing, within reason. Now, she was at the mercy of her husband. They were moved all the time. From a townhome, to a luxury apartment, to a hotel, and then to a country home. Bogdan had a lot of businesses. She’d been to many different restaurants, nightclubs, casinos, events, parties.

They’d been married three months, and apart from their wedding night, he hadn’t touched her. They shared a bed but rarely spoke to one another.

Bogdan gave her single-word instructions.

“Come.”

“Go.”

“Leave.”

“Stay.”

She said nothing.

“Dinner.”

“Breakfast.”

“Move.”

She didn’t know if he was even able to form a sentence. Actually, she saw he was able to form many sentences, just not toward her. She was on her own. And so, with her single glass of wine, which she wouldn’t drink, as she hated all forms of alcohol, she would simply stand there.

Some people would talk in what she assumed was Russian. She wasn’t fluent in any language. Her mother had tried to teach her Italian and even Spanish, French, but it was not something she had a knack for. So, after many frustrated lessons, her mother decided to stop.

Anastasia was thankful her mother tried. Right now, she had a sudden interest in learning Russian. She had to replace a bookstore, locate the language book, and attempt to teach herself.

She had nothing, no money, and if she even tried to run, she had a feeling she would be killed. This was no way to live, but there was nothing she could do.

At that moment, she couldn’t help but look at her husband. To many, he was nothing more than a savage beast, a monster, someone who was going to kill her. But Anastasia, though she would never admit it, found him … attractive. He was older than her, thirty-nine, she believed him to be. Short, blond hair, which she rarely saw him touch. Unlike her father and brothers, he rarely ran his fingers through his hair. She suddenly realized it must be a nervous act or something. Bogdan was never nervous. He was always in control, just as he was now.

She held onto her glass tightly, as he’d chosen that exact moment to look at her. Now she felt the nerves rising. He scared and exhilarated her. She didn’t know if he was going to kill her, or if he was biding his time.

Anastasia knew nothing. Her father would often call her thick and stupid. They were hurtful words, and she knew they were not true. She knew a great many things.

She had grown up away from all this bullshit. Her mother had given her a fantastic life, and she missed her mother.

Pulling her gaze away from her husband, she stepped away, suddenly needing some air.

****

Bogdan watched his wife disappear outside, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt she just needed a break. His wife was the most loyal person at the party. She was never going to betray him. She never spoke to anyone, and he had a thorough check of her background. Her name may be Rinaldi, but she was nothing like her father or her brothers, or those manipulating bitches.

He knew all about Dante’s failed first marriage. How he had dismissed his wife because she’d been incapable of having children. From what he knew and saw, Anastasia’s mother had been one of the most beautiful women in the family. She’d given birth to a very beautiful daughter.

Bogdan finished up his conversation and left. He hated parties. He’d never been the kind of man for small talk, but he wanted to see how his wife handled this new life of hers. Making his way out to the gardens, he kept to the shadows, a place he was used to.

Anastasia was standing alone, staring up at the sky, which was clear, and all of the stars were out. Her long, black hair had a nice curl to it, and tonight she had left it down. The length was long, thick, and luscious. He remembered how it looked spread out across his pillows as he thrust deep inside her pussy. He wondered if Anastasia knew what her father had said.

“If my daughter is not a virgin, you have my permission to kill her instantly. Take your pleasure, and end her life.”

Bogdan was no fool. Dante wanted his daughter dead, and even though he didn’t want this marriage, he found the woman before him intriguing. Her mother had taken her away from the family. She was not warped or manipulated.

In the mornings, she sat on the sofa, eating a bowl of cereal, laughing at cartoons. She cooked and cleaned when given the chance. He rarely gave her time alone. He always moved her around, never wanting her to get too comfortable. And yet, she never made any kind of waves.

It had been three months since he married her. There was no chance of her being pregnant, as he knew when her cycle hit. She didn’t show the pain, but he knew.

Her father, Dante, constantly reminded him that if his daughter stepped out of line, he had the man’s permission to end her life. It had been a long time since he’d met someone who wanted him to kill a family member so badly.

Bogdan, being the curious man he was, did some digging. While Anastasia was alive, her mother’s inheritance belonged to her. Anastasia was a very wealthy woman. He wondered if she even knew it.

Her father wanted her dead for multiple reasons. Bogdan was no fool. Killing Anastasia would also create war between his Bratva and Dante’s family. It had taken too long to broker peace.

He liked killing. Lived for it. He was an expert in ending a man’s life. But he was not going to bring blood to the Galkin Bratva.

He also happened to enjoy watching his wife. She was different. Even now, did she have any idea that he followed her out here? She made no complaints during the past three months. He barely spoke a word to her. She rarely said anything back to him. She stayed quiet. The perfect little wife.

“I miss you, Mom,” she said.

Bogdan heard her. He also heard the sniffle. Was his wife crying?

He stepped out of the shadows just as Anastasia spun toward him, and she let out a gasp.

“Mr. Evanoff,” she said. “You scared me.”

“Bogdan.”

She had dropped her gaze and this time, she looked up. “Huh?”

“We’re married. You don’t have to call me Mister anything.” He moved in closer. “Unless, of course, you would like to call me Sir?”

He could handle Sir spilling from her lips.

She frowned and he couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m sorry. I just needed some air.”

He moved toward the wall that overlooked the gardens. “It’s a glorious night.” This was the most either of them had spoken.

Bogdan hadn’t quite prepared for their first conversation to be at a party. He saw the pain in Anastasia’s eyes. She missed her mother. He’d just heard her say those exact words. And he didn’t, for some odd reason, want her hurting.

“Most summer nights are.”

He waited to see what she would do. Would she step back inside to the safety of the party, or come and stand by him? Bogdan was used to women being attracted to him and fearing him.

Anastasia surprised him, as she came to stand beside him. She was not too close, nor was she far away.

“It reminds me of many summer nights I spent with my mom,” she said.

Bogdan didn’t say anything and heard her chuckle.

“We’d pull out a tent, and we’d have a whole picnic at night, and then we’d sometimes sleep on the ground. Especially if it was warm. Of course, we often woke up, and it was freezing.” There was that chuckle again. “I think at one point a couple of slugs or even a snail crawled over us.” She wrinkled her nose. “Mom always made sure we got into the tent after that. Sleeping out in the open, although fun, was a little gross.”

She turned toward him with a smile.

This woman was not meant for their world. By living with her mother away from the bullshit, she hadn’t developed a coldness. From his notes on Evelyn, she had been the same as well.

Her mother hadn’t wanted to risk her children. Evelyn had two sisters and three brothers. But all five of her siblings had been killed, along with her parents. Anastasia was the only one left. It was why she was destined to inherit a small fortune—one he had a feeling Dante wanted.

“Sorry,” Anastasia said.

“I have never been still long enough for slugs or snails to crawl over me.”

He turned toward Anastasia, and she had the most beautiful brown eyes he had ever seen. In all his thirty-nine years, he had seen a lot of death and evil. He’d stared many different people in the eye, and not once had he seen someone with so much kindness, so much love. There was nothing tainting her gaze. She was open. Anastasia was a rare gem.

When her father had approached him with marriage, as had Galkin, he wanted to decline. He was not a Brigadier. He was a killer. Admittedly, he was Galkin’s lead man, and that made him even bigger than any Brigadier, but that was beside the point. He had no intention of marrying.

He had told Galkin no. Galkin told him to meet with her first, and then decide. Anastasia was just … different. He was now married.

The ceremony of the sheets had been interesting. Dante had assumed his daughter was no virgin, and yet she had been exactly that. Bogdan had never been a woman’s first, until Anastasia. He’d not taken her since that night.

Although he attempted to be gentle, he had wanted to be done with it so she would no longer have to deal with the pain. He’d been rough, fast, and then her blood and his semen had spilled onto the sheets. Now, as he looked at her, he felt the longing that had started that night.

“Well, maybe you need to camp outside, in the open. It is an eye-opening experience.” She laughed. “I’m sorry. Please don’t do that. My mom had to try and take them off my body.”

“Them?”

“Yeah, there was like two or three. It was gross. Let’s not talk about it, since it doesn’t exactly give you any kind of positivity about camping out in the open.”

“Your mother sounds nice,” he said.

“She was nice.”

“And you miss her?”

“You heard that?”

“Yes.”

Anastasia took a deep breath and then glanced back toward the house. “I bet she would know how to handle these parties.”

“You’re doing great.”

“I stand around and I know people don’t like me. Why do you keep bringing me?”

He lifted up. He was taller than her, but Anastasia tilted her head back, looking up at him. Her head came to his chest. Not too much taller.

“You’re my wife and your place is right by my side.”

“I’m an outsider, Bogdan,” she said, repeating his name slowly. “We both know I’m not really supposed to be here.”

He closed the distance between them, not that there was much. “And where are you supposed to be?” he asked.

She hesitated and then tilted her head to the side. “Doesn’t my dad want you to kill me?”