His Bratva Princess

Chapter 21

Viktor

"Want to explain to me what the fuck you're doing here following my fiancé and sister?" I snap at Quinn. He smirks at me, clearly not intimidated by my snappiness at all.
"I'm assuming the one with red hair is yer sister? The wee lass with a gob on her, ye?" Quinn asks.
"Why are you interested?" I narrow my eyes at him.
"Cmon bucko, I got no time for any lass," he laughs at me.
"Whatever. Onto better things like what the fuck you're doing here?" I demand already knowing his presence isn't exactly a gift from the gods.
      Quinn turns serious and looks at his goons. I've never had anything to do with the Irish until our shipments of our weapons and explosives started going missing and people started going missing.
       "Farrell is becoming suspicious. We need to move quickly. Ye understanding me, lad? As soon as the gimp sniffs out what we are doing, he'll come for you and yer lass," I release a slow breath of air and clench my fists.
      "He couldn't even get near us if he wanted to. We've got more weapons, a stronger unit and he's a fucking idiot that's got his head so far up that new bitch of his ass that I doubt he would be catching any wind of what's happening at the moment," I retort.
      "Yer a cocky bastard, aren't ye?" Quinn scoffs at me.
      "It's not being cocky when it's true," I shrug.
      "This is what you'll get if you work with me quickly on this. Twice the weapons you even thought you'd get, and a truce from the Russian Mafia. But you have to guarantee that this fucker is dead and you become in charge of the Irish mafia overall, not just your little pussy rebellion squad," I nod over to dopey dick one and dopey dick two.
Their glares are so intense it makes me laugh. Who do they think they are? I am capo.
"Fucking bullocks ye talking ya gobshite," the one with red hair speaks.
"Want to control whatever shit your boy is talking before he's dead on the ground?" I threaten Quinn.
Quinn sighs out of frustration and shakes his head at the ginger prick. "Murphy," Quinn warns.
"That's what I thought," I grumble.
"If you knew anything, ye would know that we aren't just some 'pussy rebellion.' There's two distinct groups, his group just holds 100 more men then us. We used to occasionally meet for meetings but since his business ventures have changed.... We haven't wanted to do business," Quinn shrugs.
"Whatever. Do we have a deal or not?" I ask, feeling bored.
"Deal," Quinn extends his hand for a handshake.

**

After settling the deal with Quinn and his goons standing there, I decided it was time to call it a night. After talking with Sofia, I wanted to be with her for the rest of the night but I knew I couldn't. I had to settle business otherwise someone was bound to get hurt. They always go for something personal, something meaningful and something painful if they were to take it away. So I know the risks of not getting rid of them prior to this occurring.
       "Do you think he'll get it done, Capo?" Dimitri asks me as Nikolai drives us back to my estate.
      "Who fucking knows. It's the Irish we're talking about here," I grumble.
       We sit the rest of the car ride in silence as I contemplate plans, ways to execute plans quicker and Sofia. We arrive 15 minutes later after driving and I'm quick to leave the car and walk to my room. I open the door and frown when I see Sofia isn't laying down in bed. I asked Lev and Alex to drop Sofia and Mila home, and make sure there's no runners this time.
       "Sofia?" I call out, searching the halls. I go room by room and she's not in any of them and my heart rate accelerates at this. I open the study and sigh in relief when I see her curled in a ball on the couch in the study holding a book.
I slowly walk to her and take a moment to look at her. Long lashes that curl softly, a pout on her lush pink lips and her brown eyebrows creased. Her curly hair cascades down the side of the arm chair where her head essentially hangs. She's still wearing her outfit from tonight, a tight black little sequin dress that exposes every inch of her curves and a deep v-neck exposing her large and luscious chest. I feel my pants tightening at the sight of her and I groan.
Being careful not to wake her, I place one arm around her back and the other under her legs to carry her bridal style into the bedroom. I place her down on our bed gently and she stirs, but still doesn't wake. I remove my long sleeve shirt and pants and lay next to her in my underwear.
I know marrying her seems selfish when she's expressed how much she doesn't want it. It wasn't either one of our decisions at the end of the day. Still, I believe even if this wasn't planned that we'd end up together. She was made for me and only me.