Dark Obsession: An Age Gap, Bratva Romance (Chicago Bratva Series)

I’m pulled from sleep, the haze of a very nice dream still clinging to my mind. In the dream, Grigori was between my legs, his mouth doing things that had me writhing, biting the bed sheet as I clenched it in my hand. His strong hands were gripping my thighs like he couldn’t get enough of me. It felt so real, and I was just about to sink back into it when—

“Elena.”

I blink, half hoping he’s waking me up because he’s ready for round two. I wouldn’t mind feeling those hands again, but when I see he’s fully dressed, boots and all, I realize that’s not going to happen.

“What is it?” I mumble, my voice thick with sleep. “Please tell me you’re waking me up for something fun.”

He’s already halfway to the door when he throws me a look over his shoulder. “We need to move. Now.”

I groan, rolling out of bed with a frustrated sigh.

I stretch, my body still sore in all the right places from last night. “You know, you have terrible timing, Grigori. I was in the middle of something very enjoyable.”

He’s already out of the room by the time I finish my sentence.

I spot my clothes neatly folded on the chair. At least he’s thoughtful when he’s being a bossy pain in my ass. I start pulling them on, still grumbling under my breath, but deep down I know something’s wrong.

I finish dressing, tugging on my heels with a bit more force than necessary. When I step into the living room, I try to lighten the mood, if only for myself.

“Good morning. That is, if it’s still morning. Not like I have a phone to check,” I say, casting an exaggerated glance around the room. No clock in sight and it’s still dark outside.

Grigori barely acknowledges me, his face buried in his phone.

Wait a second.

“Didn’t you toss your phone out the window last night too?” I cross my arms, raising an eyebrow.

“Backup,” he mutters, still staring at the screen.

I open my mouth to say something else, but he holds up a finger, silencing me. Silencing me. My teeth grind together. He’s back in full asshole bodyguard mode. So much for last night’s version of him. I should’ve known better.

‘Really?’ I snap, crossing my arms tighter. But he doesn’t answer. He sends off a text with his usual annoyingly calm expression.

Finally, he looks up.

“We’re going to the mansion.”

“Now?” I ask, still bristling.

“Now.” He’s already moving to grab his jacket.

I sigh, rolling my eyes as I grab my things.

We step outside, the cold air hitting me like a slap. I’m still half in a daze, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep and the lingering heat from my dream. I glance up at the sky, wondering what time it is.

“What the hell happened?”

He doesn’t answer right away. We get into the car, and he turns the ignition, the engine rumbling to life. The controlled, focused Grigori is back in full force.

“We need to get you to the mansion,” is all he says.

My brother Luk and his wife technically live there, but it’s more like a fortress masquerading as a luxury estate, big enough to house an army of guests when needed. After the security breaches a few years back, it’s damn near impossible to get in or out without some serious clearance.

I close my eyes, rubbing my temples. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’ll explain more once I know more,” he says, his voice clipped, back to being maddeningly cryptic. “Your friends made it out safely last night, by the way.”

I exhale, the tension easing a bit. That’s no small relief. At least Sasha and Natalia are safe. But this whole situation still has my nerves on edge.

After driving in tense silence for what feels like forever, I can’t take it anymore. “So, that’s it? You’re just going to stonewall me? What the hell was last night? Don’t tell me it’s nothing.”

“It’s nothing,” he says, his eyes on the road, voice flat. The nerve.

I sit up, my frustration bubbling over. “They were speaking Spanish, Grigori. You were speaking Spanish. Since when did you learn the language?”

He doesn’t answer, and that only pisses me off more.

“Look, even if this wasn’t about me, I still almost died. I have a right to know what’s going on.”

He clenches the steering wheel a little tighter, his eyes flicking to me for a brief second. “What right?”

His words hit me hard. My chest tightens with anger.

“Excuse me?” I spit, my voice rising as we get closer to the estate. “I deserve to know what’s happening when I’m getting shot at.”

He doesn’t flinch. “No, Elena. You think you deserve to know. I’m sorry you got caught up in this, but it’s not your concern.”

My fists clench, fury building inside me. “Of course it’s my concern. This is Bratva business, and I’m Bratva.”

He shakes his head, jaw set. “We’re done discussing this. Conversation over.”

My face burns. I stare out the window, biting back the urge to scream.

Instead, I cross my arms and bite out, “So you’re just cutting me out now? Leaving me in the dark while you handle everything?”

He doesn’t even blink. “It’s better this way,” he says, his voice infuriatingly calm. “Your place is behind a computer, not shaking down goons for information.”

“Oh, so now you think you know better where I belong?” I snap, my temper flaring hotter. “You always think you know best, don’t you?”

He glances at me briefly. “In this case, yeah, I do. You’re not cut out for this. When we get to the mansion, allow yourself to recover, then put it out of your head.”

“Go fuck yourself,” I snarl, my hand twitching with the urge to slap him again, harder this time. He’s so dismissive, like I’m a child he’s tucking into bed, not the woman he just screwed senseless. It makes me feel discarded. But before I can say anything more, we arrive at the estate, the massive wrought-iron gate opening, the armed guards letting us in with nothing more than a nod.

“Be safe,” he says as he puts the car in park, his voice cool and detached.

“Fuck you,” I spit once more, yanking open the door and slamming it behind me without another word. I storm toward the mansion, my heels digging into the gravel path as the weight of everything that just happened crashes down on me—the gunfire, death tapping on my shoulder, Grigori’s mysterious interaction with the assassin, the sex—and now, this dismissal.

Inside the mansion, everything is quiet, too quiet. It feels suffocating. I rush upstairs to one of the bedrooms and shut the door behind me, pressing my back against it in a silent wish to shut out the whole damn world. After a few seconds, I collapse onto the bed, my face buried in the pillow.

Tears well up in my eyes but I fight them back. I hate that I’m crying, hate that I still want him, even after how he just treated me.

I can’t let myself fall apart. Not over this. Not over him. I toughen up, forcing the tears away. As much as I’m pissed at Grigori, I still care for him.

And whether he likes it or not, I’m going to find a way to help him.