His Bratva Princess

Chapter 8

Sofia

Viktor runs a warm bath for me and even goes as far as putting soap in it to create bubbles. He grabs a towel from the linen cabinet and one of his own shirts for me to wear. You would never expect someone like Viktor, a brooding, intimidating and sexy man to run a bubble bath.
"I hurt you. With what I said. Didnt I?" I ask, gulping.
He stares at me for a moment and sighs, leaning against the basin.
    "I know the truth," he shrugs.
      I frown whilst taking my death heels off, "what truth?"
     "You didn't mean what you said, Sofia. You forget who I am and what I do, don't you? I was trained to read people and you for sure are an open book at times," he responds.
      He turns the taps off and walks to the door, he looks me up and down and licks his lips. I ignore the way my body reacts to him and focus my attention on the bubbles.
      "You're wrong," I whisper.
       He chuckles and shakes his head at me, "I'm never wrong. You're mine and you secretly love it," with that he leaves me be in the bathroom.
                                      **
I sat in the bath for around 30 minutes until my skin pruned up and decided it was time for me to get out. He made me shower in is ensuite bathroom, putting a constant reminder to my brain he was just outside the door.
     I take my time with drying off and I stare at his t-shirt on the basin for a solid 2 minutes. I decide to put it on and am immediately engulfed in the large size and the scent of his cologne. The seedy little prick didn't bother getting me any pants either, he had this well thought out.
     I'm not normally the type to put back on underwear I was just wearing after getting clean, but I'm forced to do so. I'm glad his shirt is long enough to cover all my lady bits.
     Exiting the bathroom, I yawn and look at him laying on the bed on his phone. His chest is bare, exposing his tattoos. Over where his heart is, lies cursive writing. This makes me curious. I've never seen a tattoo across his heart. Of course he adorns many tattoos, but this one I think may be new.
As I come closer to the bed I eye the tattoo and furrow my eyebrows when I read what it says in cursive letters.
Claimed.
"I'm just going to go to the spare room," I begin stuttering like an absolute maniac. I trip over my own feet whilst he watches me like a hawk. I don't want to know what his tattoo means, not yet.
"Come here," he orders.
Pausing in my tracks, I spin around to face him with widened eyes. My feet stay glued to the ground, not allowing for me to move from my spot.
"What is it?" I squeak out, feeling myself become tachycardic.
He pats the spot next to him in the bed and points to me, gesturing for me to sit down. I slowly make my way over to him and do as he all but instructs.
"You can't go out for a while, Sofia," he begins.
I frown at him and cross my arms over my chest. This makes his eyes zone in on my chest, making me huff and unfold my arms. Bloody men.
"And you can't tell me what to do," I retort.
"Sofia, listen to me goddammit! I'm not telling you this to be some party pooper. I'm protecting you. Shits going on, nothing you need to concern yourself with and I sure as hell don't want you brought in the middle," he argues.
Viktor looks stressed. For once, a different emotion other then anger is painted across his face. Viktor is very good at masking his emotions, even to me. I'm well reminded almost every day of my life of Viktor's feelings surrounding me.
"Okay," I sigh.
He raises an eyebrow at me and deadpans me, "okay? As in okay you're listening to me?"
I give him a look of annoyance and nod my head in agreement. He sighs in relief, his stressed face morphing into one of lust.
Gulping, I shuffle to remove myself from the bed. He grabs me, not allowing for me to leave.
"I want to take you out," he says.
He wants to take me out? Out as in a date? In all of my 20 years of being alive, I've never had Viktor ask me such a thing. It's most likely clearly out of obligation as we are going to be married soon.
"Out where?" I question.
He thinks for a moment, grabs his phone out and hands it to me after scrolling for a little bit.
My mouth drops open in awe at what he shows me. A 5- star luxurious restaurant right in front of the Eiffel Tower. I've seen it before, it books out a year in advance because of the dining experience. The food, the view and the staff are supposed to be absolutely incredible. I know this would cost a bucket load, but I also know he doesn't fall short of money.
Im not shocked by the looks of his date plans. Im rather shocked he wants to take me there. It's extremely romantic and I feel more than flattered.
"You want to take me there?" I question, peering at him underneath my lashes.
"Why wouldn't I want to?" He questions, frowning whilst grabbing his phone from me and looking through the pictures.
My mouth drops open a little and I swallow. I don't want to think into this, like I did everything when I was growing up. I used to have a massive crush on Viktor, right up until he shot me down. I was 17, drunk and asked for my driver to take me to Viktor's. I told him how I felt, asked him to kiss me and he turned me down. I was heartbroken. Since then, I've tried to avoid any feelings regarding him.
"Do you not like it? I can book elsewhere. I thought you would like it," he huffs almost adorably.
"No it's not that. I love it. It's just, it's so romantic," I sigh.
He frowns, "I'm not reading you properly. Is that not what you want? Why wouldn't it be romantic?"
I almost scream at him for being so delusional. He rejects me, still continues to be a possessive maniac and now plans to take me on a romantic date.
"You're infuriating," I groan and rub my face.
"Can you tell tell me and stop with this bullshit," he demands, clearly frustrated.
"It's nothing," I mumble.
"Im taking you on a date because you're my future wife and everyone else best know that. You're mine," he whispers awfully close to my lips.
Kill me now.