Sanctum: A Dark Bratva Arranged Marriage Romance (Wicked Vows)

I’M MAKING some simple sandwiches for us when I look up to see Aleks stands in the doorway, his arms crossed on his chest.

I blink. Something’s wrong. A palpable air of anger rises between us like steam.

“What’s happened?”

He pushes himself off the doorframe and stalks over to me, his eyes blazing. “You lied to me.”

Oh, God. Does he know? How did he find out?

“What are you talking about?” My voice sounds strangely distant. Detached. My ears begin to ring.

Disgrace.

Whore.

I’m hot and cold all at once. I’m frozen in this horror-stricken moment in time, disgusted with myself for ever thinking I could fall for him. Disgusted with him for pretending he cared. A strange, low buzzing fills my ears, like the swarm of a hundred bees, as he continues his tirade, verbally lashing me.

“This is why you ran, isn’t it? You ran because you were hiding from everyone.”

What? He’s in my space, so close to me I could reach out and touch him. There’s nowhere for me to go.

“Aleks,” I say, my voice raspy and shaky. I hate myself for it. “I didn’t— you can’t⁠—”

“You had a baby and didn’t tell me.”

Whore.

Disgrace.

Slut.

I move so instinctively, I don’t realize until it’s too late. Fury and injustice well in my chest. Anger bubbles beneath the surface of my skin, clawing at me, only momentarily relieved when I push him, hard.

He stumbles, looking as shocked as I feel.

“I fucking hate you,” I say, emotions blooming into words that make the tears finally fall.

When he reaches for me, I flinch instinctively, but he only pins my arms. With his iron-like grip, he lifts me in the air and binds me in his arms. I open my mouth to tell him everything. To vindicate myself. But I can’t. I’m too angry, too distraught.

I don’t know where he’s taking me or where we’re going, but I was raised in the mafia, and if his family’s any indication, I just committed a cardinal sin.

I want to tell him everything, but that would mean putting myself at his mercy. I want to scream and rage and hurt him, but that would only make my own pain worse.

He’s lifted me straight up in the air, my arms pinned to my sides, and when he gets to the bed, he tosses me on it. I bounce and quickly scramble to the head of the bed away from him.

“You will never raise a hand to me,” he says, shaking with the effort of keeping his temper in check.

“Then stop accusing me,” I snap. “Go ahead. Hit me. A big man like you twice my size with more power in your little finger than I have in my whole body. I’m impressed.”

Anger glimmers in his eyes.

“I told you the truth. I told you what happened to me. And I was going to tell you about my daughter when the time was right. When I was ready. Because no one knows about her, Aleksandr, and if that keeps her safe, I aim to keep it that way. We hardly know each other.”

“The truth?” he spits back at me, marching around the bed to a sideboard. He twists off the lid to a decanter and drinks the liquor straight from the bottle. “Let’s hear it, Princess.”

I clench the bedspread. “I told you I was assaulted. One time. I don’t know who it was. I was drugged. I woke up bruised and hurting with only vague memories of screaming no. I had nowhere to go. No one I could tell.” My voice cracks. “Weeks later, I realized my period was late. I was young and naive and didn’t know what to do. I had no friends and didn’t trust my family. I hid the pregnancy until I couldn’t anymore.”

He sits in a chair across from me, the bottle still in his hand, but he doesn’t speak.

I clear my throat and continue. “I told you, my father blamed me for the assault. If I told him I was pregnant, he’d have killed me. I left. Managed to spend the summer in Italy with friends of my mother’s. I don’t think she knows anything, but I’m not completely sure. I came back to America to have the baby. I had her here in New York, in a county hospital.” My voice shakes. “That was two years ago. She’s with a foster family in the northwest corner of The Cove.”

I look away and swipe at my eyes. “The only time I ever left home was to see her. To bring her money when I could.”

He slumps back into his chair. “Fuck.”

That could mean a lot of different things. I exhale. “Yeah.”

He shakes his head and doesn’t speak for long minutes. “I should’ve asked you and not jumped to conclusions. God, I’m a dick.”

“You said it, not me,” I mutter. “How did you find out? Aria? She hacked into medical records, I bet. Have her check my dates. They’ll all match. Every last one of them.”

I can still see her perfect little swaddled body, lying in my arms while I sat in the hospital bed and wept. My breasts ached, my body was tired from labor, and all I could do was hold her and cry because I had to give her away, and I’ll never forgive my family for that.

I relive every damn moment in vivid detail, and I hate him for it.

“I had her after twelve hours of hard labor,” I say, my voice hoarse. “I got to hold her once before they took her away. I gave her up voluntarily to foster care under a fake name. Then I went back home to my family, who didn’t know, or did an excellent job of pretending like nothing ever happened. But I knew. I followed the family that took her right here to The Cove.”

“And your family hid the assault because if anyone else knew, you weren’t marriageable. Jesus. I fucking hate your family, Harper.”

His voice is softer now, as if he’s almost repenting for what he did. What he accused me of. He stands and reaches for me, but I push him away.

“Yeah. As soon as my brother saw an in with your family, he took it. My family doesn’t have any money. You’ll see soon enough. All you needed was a wife, so I fit that bill.”

He scowls and shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

I hang my head low. “So am I. I couldn’t tell you right away. What if you didn’t want to marry me because of it? What then?”

I shake my head and wipe my eyes again. “I had to get married, it was my only chance.”

He sits on the edge of the bed. “I want to kick my own ass for accusing you.”

I don’t respond because I still half wish he could, too.

We sit in silence for long minutes until finally he speaks, looking weary and repentant.

“We’re married now. And I told you what my family needed. Do you remember?”

“You need to strengthen your ties and bonds, yes. Wives, children…”

I pause, my voice trembling.

Children.

I don’t know what he’s going to do now. If he takes me away from her —

“No one said biological children, did they?” he says in a soft voice. “You’ve promoted me, Princess.”

I shake my head. “What?”

“You had a baby before Aria did. Look at you, one-upping the pakhan and his wife.”

I don’t smile, though, I can’t. I’m still too wound up, still too shaky.

“Aleks —”

“Tell me about her. I want to know everything.” My heart opens a little. I think I might even forgive him.

I shift on the bed to sit next to him, and take a deep breath. “She’s two years old. She has these little pigtails. She looks a lot like me. A mini-me, really. She loves stories and coloring, dogs and cats, and loves to go outside for walks or to the playground. She’s sweet and sassy and…” My voice catches. “She’s perfect.”

“And your parents don’t know about her.”

I shake my head. “I’ve kept her hidden from them and if they suspected anything, they quickly feigned ignorance because it doesn’t align with their personal narrative about their family.”

His eyebrows rise but he just sits on the bed and shakes his head.NôvelDrama.Org: text © owner.

“You know there are ways of finding out the identity of the father,” he finally says, his eyes boring into mine. He knows as well as I do that doing so means delving into a history I don’t want to relive, but it might be the only way.

“Makes sense you’d find a way.”

He nods. “And your family will pay for this, Harper.”

I tilt my head. “For hiding the baby?”

“Jesus, for not supporting you. For not doing everything they could for you. It’s not like you got knocked up by some high school boyfriend in the back of his dad’s car, but even if you did, you didn’t deserve how they treated you.” He hangs his head. “And I’m sorry. I really am.”

I get up and march around the room, my heart pounding a crazy beat in my chest. Outside the window, the moon is rising, beams of moonlight glowing on the grass. A shadow crosses his features, and he pats his lap. “Come here.”

I walk to him, unsure of what he’ll do, but the apology is a good first step.

Psychopaths don’t apologize.

Sociopaths don’t apologize.

Narcissists don’t apologize.

He isn’t any of those things. He’s a flawed human, like the rest of us.

When I reach him, he pulls me onto his lap. I sit and lay my head on his chest. “I knew you were hiding something, I just didn’t know what,” he says, as he plays with my hair. I love it when he plays with my hair. He runs his rough fingers through it, combing it out. Silently, he separates it into three sections and gently begins to braid it. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Hmm. The day I met you, maybe? I don’t know, there was something about you stealing me from my home and manhandling me into the back of your car that didn’t make me oh-so-eager to divulge my darkest secrets. Or the day after, when I woke up handcuffed and bound in bed? Also not super feeling the trust factor. Let’s remember, we haven’t known each other for that long. The only reason I don’t hate you is because you’re really good in bed.”

He nuzzles my head and breathes in deep. “Good in bed. That sounds almost like an insult.”

“You can’t take that as a compliment? That’s your problem, then.”

His fingers tighten at my scalp and give my hair a little tug. “You slapped me, and I let that go because I deserved it. This time. Don’t take that to mean you can do whatever you want going forward, woman.”

I shiver at the hint of a threat in his voice and half wish he didn’t have such a hold on me like that.

“I suppose I can behave myself since you’re suitably repentant.”

Still, I’m not sure where this leaves us. Leaves me. My baby doesn’t live far from here, and it would be a full-on scandal to bring her⁠—

“Show me a picture.”

My heart races. “You want to see a picture of the baby?”

“And tell me her name.”

A lump forms in my throat. I nod and pull out my phone. Log into the secure cloud app where I keep all her photos. Serves me well, now that I don’t have access to my old phone anyway.

My eyes grow misty when I open up the folder with her pictures. Bright blue eyes the color of cornflowers, pink-tinged chubby cheeks, her face spread wide with a grin. Messy pigtails with wisps of hair escaping make her look adorably tousled.

“The day I had her, there was ivy outside the hospital window. I didn’t want her to have a family name. I wanted something different but not too outlandish, so…her name is Ivy.”

“Ivy,” he says reverently, pronouncing each syllable in his accent. “I like that. Ivy’s resilient and sturdy but delicate all at the same time.”

I blink and swallow. “Yeah.”

“She’s absolutely beautiful,” he says, still in awe. “She looks like a little angel.”

“Oh, she can have her moments,” I say, a little too loudly to cover up the shake in my voice.

“It’s a two-year-old’s job to act like a terrorist,” he says with a shrug. “I have younger siblings and cousins. You should’ve seen Polina when she was younger.”

That makes me giggle. “She’s fierce now. I can’t imagine what she was like when she was younger.”

“Tomorrow, Harper. Tomorrow, we get her.”

Wait.

I stare at him. I shake my head, not comprehending. He didn’t say visit her. He said get her.

“We…bring her home with us? Are you serious?”

His brow furrows and he nods sternly. “You married into Bratva. She needs protection, and she’s your daughter. She isn’t safe, Harper.”

My heart’s beating too fast. I’m dizzy and hot.

“But I—I don’t even know how to be a mother.”

“It’s not that complicated,” he responds. “You love her with everything you’ve got. You show her the way to be a good human. And if there was anything your parents did that was wrong or hurtful…you do the opposite.”

I can’t help it. I smile.

“That sounds…oddly simple. And what do you know about being a good human?”

He tugs my hair again. “I was talking about how to be a good mother. Being a good father is something entirely different.”

Is it, though?

I swallow and lick my lips because the idea of Aleks…holding Ivy and trying to be a good father… I swoon a little.

“What does it mean to you, to be a good father?”

He thinks for a moment before speaking. “In my world, you show your love by being willing and able to burn the world down for the people you love. It means your undying protection, no matter the cost.”

A beat passes before I speak. I know in my heart he means every word.

“There must be more to it. Isn’t there?”

“I don’t know if there is. I’m sure you can doll it all up with things like…morals and shit like that, but in the end, do you really love someone if you’re not willing to lay down everything for them? No matter who they are? No matter what they do?”

My parents weren’t willing to give up anything for me. Not their pride. Not their time. Nothing. Parents like to lie to their children and tell them they love them, but so many people only like the idea of loving. So many want to be adored and loved back, but is that self-serving? Is that really what love is?

How would I know?

I want to know.

“Does it have to be complicated?” he asks. “We don’t even know each other but there’s chemistry here. Does marriage have to be complicated?”

“Not at all. I obey your every command and you buy me nice things. Sounds simple enough.”

He tugs my hair again.

“That sounds like a fair deal.”

We sit in silence, the weight of what we’ve revealed between the two of us demanding reverence for a little while. It wasn’t just the revelation that I have a child but so much more. We’ve both said out loud what probably neither of us has ever had the ability to say to another human being before.

I want to raise children with you.

I can be a good parent.

I can be a good spouse.

I can choose to give what I was never given.

Finally, I lean over and brush my lips across his stubbled jaw. I close my eyes when he returns the kiss with a kiss of his own. Deeper. Darker. Dominant.

And then his hands are in my hair as if anchoring himself to me. I bared a huge part of myself to him tonight. I gave him what I’ve never given any other human being before.

And he didn’t trounce on my truth but cherished it. Took us a while to get here, but that only makes it that much sweeter.

He’ll bring my daughter to me.

He said she could come here with us.

I need to thank him in a way words can’t.

I caress his face, his jaw, the broad swell of his shoulders. I run my hands along his biceps, appreciating how perfect and strong he is. When his mouth parts, my tongue darts into it. I relish the low, utterly male sound he makes, half groan, half growl, and nip his lip with my teeth.

It’s just enough of a show of dominance to poke him, and the next thing I know I’m flat on my back and he’s on top of me, his full weight pressing me into the bed.

He doesn’t ask me what’s come over me or demand a discussion. He only slowly and deliberately strips me until I’m bared to him, the depth of his blue eyes boring into me with the power of a laser.

I fumble with his belt, and he unzips his pants. Shoves his clothes off and drops them to meet mine in a tumbled heap as we rejoin each other, naked and bared. He palms my ass and lifts one of my legs to straddle him before he glides into me. My head hits the pillow when I’m filled by him, a glimmer of perfect brilliance shining in his eyes with the sudden need to claim me.

I ride the waves of sensation brought on by being vulnerable and exposed, in so many more ways than he’s done to me physically. There’s a silent thanks, a silent plea for mercy, an understanding that passes between us.

My eyes widen in surprise when he holds my gaze and brings his heavy hand to the base of my neck. Thick, rough fingers close around me. I gasp for breath.

“Good girl,” he whispers when I don’t struggle. My pulse spikes and the first wave of pleasure washes over me, a prelude. The rumble of approval undoes the last knot in my chest. My heart races when another spasm of pleasure ricochets through me. I whimper and toss my head back. He comes on the heels of my own pleasure. “That’s my girl,” he whispers as we ride the high of our joined ecstasy. His fingers ghost over the skin at my neck, and he glides his hand down the length of my body until he cups my ass.

Another thrust sends the last spasms of pleasure through me.

While I lie there on the bed, his hot seed still leaking from me, his fingers travel upward to grasp my chin. His gaze burns into mine with an intensity that would scorch the earth.

“You’re my wife,” he says in a low growl. “Your daughter belongs with her mother. Your child will live here with us.”

I nod, unsure as to why he needs to state this again. Wordlessly, my arms encircle his neck. The tiniest trickle of sweat drips from his temple down the length of his chiseled jaw.

“And while she’s here, we’ll protect her. Both of us. I’m going to teach you everything I know, Harper. Because make no mistake. There will be vengeance for what’s happened to you.”