The Bratva Bosses' Surrogate: A

Reverse Harem Dark Mafia

Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (The
Bratva Billionaires’ Club Book 2)
Celeste Riley
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The Bratva Bosses’ Surrogate
A Reverse Harem Dark Mafia Romance

The Bratva Billionaires’ Club – Book 2

by

Celeste Riley
Copyright © 2024 by Celestine Publishing Ltd.
Contact: Celeste-Riley@mail.com
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage
and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Inhalt
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
CONNECT WITH ME!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Chapter 1
Sofia
I’m perched in this cozy café, fidgeting in anticipation. Finally, the moment to meet Jason, the man I agreed to be a
surrogate for, has arrived. Our chats were online. He sounded like a sweet person, and if everything goes right, I’ll be signing
the contract today. He’s also paying a decent amount.
Everything seems legit. I mean, I didn’t exactly comb through every word of that contract, but hey, my agency’s solid,
right? They must’ve checked it out.
Jason. That’s his name. I glance at my watch. 3 pm was the time we agreed to meet. He’s running late, fifteen minutes and
counting. I can’t just sit here, twiddling my thumbs. It’s freezing outside, the kind of New Jersey winter which chills you to the
bone. I need something warm.
“Hi, can I have the winter special, please? Thank you.”
A small smile tugs at my lips. If I were still slinging coffee as a barista, that drink wouldn’t be on my menu. That job... it
was a grind, not for everyone. Like me. Which is exactly why I’m here, ready to be a surrogate. A new chapter, a new hope.
Just waiting for Jason to turn the page.
I cradle my toffee nut coffee, retreating to a cozy corner. The cafe’s quiet, with folks buried in their laptops, either lost in
work or deep in study. It’s warm, a contrast to the biting chill outside. I’m starting to relax, the aroma of my drink comforting.
Just then, the door swings open. In strides a woman, all black hair and confidence, her heels clicking against the floor.
She’s braving the cold in a skirt, which I can’t help but admire. She scans the cafe, and her gaze locks onto mine.
She beelines towards me, a practiced smile on her lips. “Hi, I’m Stacey. You must be Sofia, the surrogate?”
Just who might this be? Jason never mentioned a woman.
I extend my hand, mirroring her smile. “Nice to meet you, Stacey. Are you the donor, perhaps?”
Her smile widens, but she shakes her head. “Oh no.”
We sit, and I’m even more curious now.
“So, who are you, then?” I ask. “Jason never mentioned anyone named Stacey.”
Stacey’s smile is patient as she reaches into her bag, pulling out a sleek, professional card. “Stacey Jones, Manager of
Bright Futures Surrogacy Agency,” it reads.
My eyes widen in recognition. Of course! Stacey Jones, the name I’ve seen in emails and heard in hushed conversations
at the agency. How did I not put it together sooner?
“Oh, Ms. Stacey!” I exclaim, a mix of embarrassment and surprise coloring my voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize
you.”
“It’s alright. I should have mentioned who I was as soon as I introduced myself, I just thought you’d recognized me.”
I’m embarrassed. Of course, I should have. “So, where’s Jason?”
Stacey leans in, “Jason won’t be joining us. He’s... out of the picture.”
I frown. “What do you mean? Is he sick? Did he send you instead?”
She shakes her head. “No. He’s pulled out of the contract.”
My heart sinks. “What? But he told me...”
Stacey interrupts gently, “We compensated him. He’s likely to look elsewhere now. But don’t worry, you have a new
client, Sofia.”
I pause, processing this. A new client? “So, where is this client you mentioned?”
Stacey’s eyes hold mine, unwavering. “They won’t make it today. They’re quite… busy.” She smiles but it doesn’t reach
her eyes.
This feels sketchy, a tangle of questions swirling in my head.
I probe further. “Did you say ‘they’? Are we talking about a couple here?”
“No, not a couple,” Stacey clarifies. “Three prestigious businessmen.”
“Three?” My eyebrows shoot up. “How does that... I mean, are we talking about three different babies?”
She shakes her head, “Just one baby, but three fathers. One of them will be the donor, and there will be an egg donor too.
Your role will only be to carry the child.”
I take a deep breath, trying to process this bizarre situation. “Okay, so...” I hesitate, knowing this part is always
awkward. “How much are they offering?” I lift my coffee to my lips, seeking momentary refuge in its warmth.
Stacey leans forward, her voice steady. “One million dollars.”
I splutter, choking on my coffee. A million dollars?
Stacey looks concerned. “Is that not enough? I can negotiate a higher amount for you.”
Higher? My mind races. This is life-changing money. What would I even do with it? A car? Cars? A house? But is this
even real? Stacey’s the agency manager, so it must be legit, right?
“Sofia, they chose you for a reason. You’re young, and your test results show you’re more than capable of carrying a
healthy child. They specifically asked for you.”
I’m taken aback, a mix of pride and nervousness bubbling inside me. “So, will I... ever meet them?”
“Yes, you will,” she slides a contract across the table towards me.
I scan through it. The initial sections are pretty standard, focusing on the baby’s health and well-being. But then, I stumble
upon something unexpected. The contract states I’m to live with them.
My eyes flicker up in surprise. “So, I’ll be living in their house?”
“That’s right,” Stacey confirms. “You’ll follow a diet prescribed by their doctor, but don’t worry, you’ll have a personal
chef to take care of all your meals.”
I hesitate, my voice laced with doubt. “Ms. Stacey, I... I don’t think I can do this whole live-in thing. I don’t even know
them.”
Stacey’s expression remains calm but firm. “They are very prestigious clients. They’re unlikely to waver from this
decision. However, I could possibly negotiate a higher payment for you.”
“I still don’t know... I really think it’s best if I just stay in my own home.”
There’s a shift in Stacey’s demeanor, her tone turning more authoritative. “They won’t accept that.”
The lure of a million dollars is undeniable, yet the unknowns loom large in my mind. The idea of three men, all wanting
to share fatherhood of a single child, sets off alarms in my head. It’s too peculiar, too fraught with uncertainty. And even though
Ms. Stacey appears somewhat reliable...
“I need to think about this deal, Ms. Stacey,” I assert firmly.
“I’ll talk to them about your concerns. It’s important you feel comfortable with every aspect of this arrangement.”
I’m skeptical, but the hint of flexibility in her tone offers a sliver of hope. “Do you really think they might consider letting
me stay in my own home?”
Stacey assesses me with a look that’s both understanding and unwavering. “Sofia, I know this is a lot to take in. But these
clients, they’re not just prestigious, they’re extremely private individuals. Their terms are specific for a reason.”
I shuffle uncomfortably. “But it’s such a big ask, living with them. It feels... invasive.”
Stacey leans in, her voice softening. “I get it, I really do. But think about what this opportunity means for you. This isn’t
just a job, it’s a chance to change your entire life. And we’re here to support you every step of the way. Plus, the increased
payment can be quite significant.”
Her words start to chip away at my resolve. The idea of life-changing money is hard to ignore. “How much more are we
talking about?”
Stacey opens her briefcase, sliding a revised contract across to me. “They’re willing to go up to 1.2 million. And
remember, you’ll have the best of care, a comfortable living environment, everything you need.”
1.2 million. The number echoes in my head. It’s a staggering amount, one that could truly turn my life around.
“And you’ll ensure my safety and well-being?” I ask, seeking one last reassurance.
“Absolutely,” Stacey replies, her tone firm. “Your safety and comfort are our top priorities. We’ll be in constant
communication, and you’ll have access to everything you need.”
I take a deep breath, my hand hovering over the contract. This decision, it’s monumental, scary, but also potentially
transformative. I pick up the pen, my heart racing as I sign my name on the dotted line. This is it, a new chapter, one filled with
uncertainty but also immense possibility.
 This whole day has turned weird. I mean, who would have thought an offer like this would come my way? A million
dollars to carry a child for three wealthy businessmen? It’s almost too good to be true. But something about the whole situation
feels off, and I can’t shake the uneasy feeling that’s settled deep in my gut.
Stacey’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “It’s cold out there. Would you like me to drop you off somewhere?”
I nod, grateful for the gesture amid this swirling confusion. “Yeah, sure.”
She has a sleek black sedan. Just how much does she make?
Once inside the car, Stacey turns on the heat, filling the space with warmth. “So, where do you live, Sofia?” she asks, her
tone neutral. “I’ll drop you off.”
“It’s 1425 Walnut Street,” I say, noting her attentive nod as she inputs the details into her car’s navigation system.
The drive is short, and I’m glad she doesn’t make small talk.
We pull up to my place, a building that’s seen better days. Stacey’s eyes take in the sight, a flicker of surprise crossing
her face.
“You live here?” she asks.
“Yes.”
Her next words sting, even if they aren’t meant to. “No wonder you signed the contract.”
Her comment feels like a jab, unintentional or not. I imagine all the sharp retorts I could hurl back, but I bite my tongue.
She’s my connection to the agency, after all.
Without a word, I step out of the car and head toward my home. The door closes behind me with a familiar creak, the
lock clicking into place.
Standing in the dimly lit hallway of my apartment, the walls seem to close in around me. A million dollars. It’s a number
that could erase so many worries, open so many doors.
Living with them, not even knowing who they are, it’s bizarre. It’s not just a red flag; it’s a whole parade of them. And
their refusal to even meet me? That’s not just weird, it’s downright absurd.
Shaking off the uneasy thoughts, I pull out my phone. I need to know the reasoning behind Jason’s decision. I never
thought he would give up on me.
I type out a quick message, “Hey Jason. I heard you changed your mind about the surrogacy.”
His reply comes swiftly, almost jarringly so. “What? No. They told me you did.”
Confusion spirals. They told him I backed out? But Stacey said... I stand there, phone in hand, as the pieces refuse to fit
together. What is going on?
Nothing is making sense, and a nagging suspicion takes root in my mind. I quickly type, ‘Stacey Jones Bright Futures
Surrogacy Agency’ into Google, my heart pounding in my chest.
The search results load, and there she is, but not the Stacey I just met. The Stacey on my screen is older, with a mane of
red hair, nothing like the black-haired woman who drove me home. That’s not the woman who sat across from me, talking
about million-dollar deals and mansions.
Panic prickles the hairs on the back of my neck. That wasn’t my boss. That wasn’t the Stacey Jones from the agency. Who
was she then? And what did she want from me? Not only that, but I also let her drive me home. Now she knows my address.
My heart hammers in my chest as I try to piece it together.
But my thoughts are cut short by the sound of a knock on my door.
Chapter 2
Maxym
I knock on the door, my knuckles rapping against the wood with a sense of urgency. All I want is for this to go smoothly,
without any unnecessary drama. I’m not in the mood to deal with complications.
She’s the perfect candidate for our plan. No family ties, no one who’d come looking if she went off the grid for a while.
Just a few online friends, and that’s it. It’s harsh, but it’s the truth. If she disappeared for nine months, nobody would really
notice.
We need an heir, plain and simple. Love isn’t in the cards for me, Ivan, or Viktor. That’s not what this is about. It’s a
business transaction, nothing more. I’m here for one thing only, the baby. The surrogate’s desires, her needs, they’re secondary.
As long as she can provide us with an heir, nothing else matters.
Finally, she opens the door, her eyes wide, “Who... are you?”
I don’t waste time with pleasantries. “You had a talk with Stacey, didn’t you? And you signed a contract?”
Her face drains of color, and she looks genuinely scared. I can’t say I’m surprised; this isn’t the kind of visit anyone
expects.
I take a moment to really look at her. She looks even better than in her photos. Healthy, glowing. She has a slender
waist, and the curve of her hips? Perfectly formed for childbearing.
And she’s beautiful, too, more so than I’d anticipated. Her blonde hair looks luxurious, her lips desirable. But then I
remind myself none of that really matters in the grand scheme of things.
“Sorry for showing up unannounced, but we need to start this process as soon as possible. I’m here to take you home,” I
state, trying to sound more reassuring than threatening.
She swallows hard, “Oh... yes, sure. Come in.”
I step inside, the door closing behind me with a soft click. She gestures awkwardly towards the living room. “Please,
have a seat, Mr...”
“Maxym,” I supply.
“Mr. Maxym,” she repeats, her voice trembling. “Thank you for coming by. I wish you’d called first.”
She’s standing near the kitchen counter, her body tense, like she’s ready to bolt at any second.
“Yes, I should’ve called. Sorry about that,” I say, trying to ease the tension. But I can tell she’s on edge. This isn’t going
to be easy, but it’s necessary. We need an heir, and she’s the key.
“So, um, Sonya, was it?” I ask, trying to remember her name.
“Sofia, actually,” she corrects me, a hint of nervousness in her voice. “Could I have five minutes to pack?”
“Sure,” I reply, trying to sound accommodating. “Only bring what’s absolutely necessary. You’ll have everything you
need at the house.”
“Mhm, I’ll be right back,” she says, quickly disappearing into another room.
I take a seat on the couch, pulling out my phone to check messages while waiting. Nothing from Ivan or Viktor. The most
recent one is from Kayla, Everything is handled, here’s the address. Nice work posing as Stacey, Kayla.
I send a quick text to Ivan and Viktor, She’ll be ready to leave in a second
They’re in the car outside, ready to step in if needed. I didn’t want to bring them up here, two more strangers might have
scared her even more. For now, it’s just about getting her out of here smoothly and to the house. That’s where the real work
begins.
Minutes tick by, and I get restless. Something doesn’t feel right. I stand up and head towards the room Sofia went to pack
in. But she isn’t packing; she’s on the phone.
“Who are you talking to?” I ask, a hint of suspicion in my tone.
“Um... no one,” she stammers, but her voice betrays her.
I hear a voice on the other end of the line, and my instincts kick in. I can’t take any risks. In one swift motion, I snatch the
phone from her hands. It’s 911. Of course, she called 911.
And here I was, going easy on her.
Suddenly, she lunges at me, pushing hard in a desperate attempt to escape. I manage to hang up the call, hearing the
dispatcher’s voice fading away, “Ma’am, ma’am, are you there?”
She’s almost to the living room, about to make it out. But I can’t let that happen. With reluctance in every move, I pull out
my Glock and point it at her. “Stop, or you’re dead.”
Sofia freezes in her tracks, her eyes widening in terror as she takes in the sight of the gun aimed at her. She slowly raises
her hands in surrender, her breaths coming in shaky gasps.
“I-I’m sorry,” she stutters, tears welling up in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to... I just panicked.”
I keep my gun steady, my heart pounding against my chest. This isn’t how I wanted things to go. My plan was to calmly
bring Sofia to the house, explain everything, and assure her she’ll be taken care of. But now, the situation has spiraled out of
control.
She pleads, “Don’t, please, don’t.”
“Put your hands behind your back,” I command, my voice cold and commanding. We can’t afford any more surprises.
She complies, slowly lowering her hands and interlocking them behind her back. Her shoulders slump with defeat. I
never wanted to make her feel this way, but there’s no turning back now.
With caution, I approach her and reach into my pocket for a pair of handcuffs. As I secure them around her wrists, she
winces slightly, a soft whimper escaping her lips.
This isn’t how I imagined I would use the handcuffs on her...
I swallow the lump in my throat, my heart sinking at the sound of her moan. This wasn’t supposed to be so cruel, so cold.
But I’m in too deep now, and I have to follow through with the plan.
“Stand up,” I say, my voice softer this time. “I don’t want to hurt you.” She slowly rises to her feet, her body trembling
under my touch. I lead her towards the door, keeping a firm grip on her arm to prevent any further escape attempts.
We step outside into the cool night air, the dimly lit street casting long shadows on the pavement. Ivan and Viktor are
waiting in a sleek black car just a few meters away. They know what needs to be done.
Sofia’s eyes widen as she spots them, her panic growing even more apparent. “Please,” she pleads, her voice filled with
desperation. “I can’t go with you. There must be another way.”
I pause for a moment, considering her words. A part of me wants to listen, to find a compromise which doesn’t involve
dragging her into this dangerous underworld. But then I remember the stakes—the pressure that hangs heavy over our heads.
“No,” I respond firmly, my grip tightening on her arm. “There is no other way. You made a deal, Sofia, and now you have
to fulfill it.”
I grip Sofia’s arm, ushering her towards the car where Ivan and Viktor are waiting. The moment she’s inside, the doors
snap shut, enclosing us in a tense bubble.
Ivan shoots me a disapproving look. “I told you to bring her willingly.”
“She called the cops on us,” I snap back, feeling Sofia’s body tremble under my grip.
Viktor curses under his breath. “Fuck. We need to move, now, before they show up.”
Then, the unmistakable sound of sirens slices through the air, getting louder, coming closer.
“Fucking drive!” I bark at Viktor, who’s in the driver’s seat. “What are you waiting for?”
Sofia’s body suddenly goes limp beside me, her head lolling onto my shoulder. She must have passed out, poor thing.
“She’s out.”
“Because you scared the living shit out of her,” Ivan shoots back, his tone laced with accusation.
“Maybe you should’ve convinced her instead, huh?” I retort, my frustration boiling over.
Viktor, who’s been focused on the road, snaps at us. “Can you two please shut up?”
The drive to the coast is long, but it’s a relief there’s no sign of the cops on our tail. Sofia remains unconscious, her body
slumped against me. I can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. Why did she react this way? I thought Kayla handled it smoothly.
As we reach the secluded dock where the yacht is moored, I carefully lift Sofia from the car. The cold seaside air hits us,
sharp and biting. She shivers a little as I carry her onto the yacht.
As I step onto the deck, I feel her stir in my arms and continue forward. Her eyelids flutter, a sign she’s coming to. I
brace myself for the reaction I know is coming.
As Sofia’s eyes flutter open, confusion and fear immediately cloud her gaze. She tries to move, to pull away, but I hold
her steady, making sure she doesn’t hurt herself in her disoriented state.
“Where... where am I?” Her voice is weak, barely above a whisper, her eyes darting around, trying to make sense of her
surroundings.
I position her on a sofa.
“You’re alright,” I say, though I know my words might sound hollow to her. “We’re on a yacht, heading to a secure
location.”
Her panic is palpable, her breathing quickens, and I can see her mind racing, trying to process everything. “Why? Why
are you doing this?”
“We needed to ensure your safety and privacy.”
“Safety? You call this safety?” She struggles again, tries to stand, but it’s futile.
“Calm down,” I urge her. “I know this is hard to understand, but it’s for the best. You’ll be taken care of, I promise.”
“Taken care of? By you? You think I’m going to trust you after this? After everything you’ve done?”
It takes a supreme effort to maintain my composure. “You called the cops on us, Sofia. We wouldn’t have had to resort to
this if you hadn’t. And let me remind you, you did sign the contract. We thought you were willing to come.”
Her retort is immediate, laced with bitterness. “Yet you tricked me with a fake Stacey and kidnapped me! I am literally
handcuffed here!”
She does have a point, but how could I have done anything different?
Viktor approaches with a cup of water, but Sofia’s hands are still cuffed. She snaps, “How am I supposed to drink this?
My hands are still cuffed.”
I hesitate for a moment, then pull the keys from my pocket. Viktor looks at me, unsure. “Do you think...”
“It’s not like she’s going to swim away,” I cut him off.
I unlock the cuffs, freeing her hands. The tension in her shoulders eases slightly, but her eyes still hold a wariness, a clear
sign this ordeal is far from over. I hand her the cup of water, an olive branch in our tense standoff. I need to keep her calm,
cooperative. This is just the start of a very long journey.
I try to make her understand the gravity of the situation. “Look, Sofia. There’s no turning back now. You’ve seen our
faces, and we can’t just let you walk away unless...”
“Unless what?”
“Unless you cooperate and carry our child. That’s it. I promise you, no one will hurt you. You have my word,” I assert,
trying to sound as convincing as possible.
She falls silent for a moment, visibly shaken, her hands trembling. “Where are we going?” she finally asks.
“Far away,” I answer, “someplace no one can find us.”
Her eyes search mine, looking for a glimmer of deceit, a reason not to believe me. But all I can offer is the truth as it
stands.
Her demand catches me off guard. “Fine, if we’re doing this… I want two million dollars. Not just one. And I want half
of it now.”
She’s challenging me, her gaze steady, expecting me to balk at her request.
But I don’t flinch. “Make it three,” I counter, “for the hassle you’ve been through. And we’ll give you all of it as soon as
we arrive.”
Her eyes widen in surprise, clearly not expecting me to agree so readily. I can see the gears turning in her head,
reassessing the situation, reassessing me.
It’s a steep price, but it’s a small one to pay for what we need from her. This is about more than money; it’s about
securing a future, gaining an heir. And if paying her more is what it takes to ensure her cooperation, so be it.
Her expression shifts, a mix of relief and suspicion. It’s a start, a small crack in the wall she’s put up between us. I need
to keep building on this, to ensure she understands that as long as she cooperates, she will be taken care of.
Chapter 3
Sofia
I’m still reeling from the absurdity of my situation. Who would’ve thought signing a contract would lead to this? Being
whisked away on a yacht to who knows where.
Imprisoned. That’s what it feels like, despite their promises of payment and safety. Money is good, sure, but freedom?
That’s priceless. And right now, it feels like I’ve traded it away for a few million dollars.
Can I even trust them? Their words, their promises? Doubt gnaws at me. Escape is a fleeting thought, but with no phone,
no idea how to operate a yacht, and no clue where I am, it’s just a fantasy. Would I even want to escape from millions of
dollars?
I let out a sharp exhale.
Then, through the tangle of my thoughts, I catch a glimpse of it; an island. Not massive, but far from tiny. It looms ahead,
an enigmatic silhouette against the horizon. What awaits me there? A gilded cage?
The yacht docks, and I’m immediately struck by the sheer size of the house. It’s enormous, like something out of a movie,
and I can’t help but wonder why they need all this space just to keep me here.
“Isn’t this a bit much for me not to escape?” I ask, a hint of sarcasm in my voice.
Viktor, the tallest among them, responds, “It’s not because you might escape. It’s because we don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Hurt...?”
Maxym, the one who seems to be in charge, adds, “We have many enemies, Sofia. We wouldn’t want you getting mixed
up with them.”
“Are you guys… like the mafia?”
They don’t answer. They don’t even look my way. That only confirms it.
He extends his hand to help me off the yacht. I hesitate, looking at his outstretched hand. Finally, I take it, realizing I don’t
really have a choice. His hand is surprisingly warm, a stark contrast to the chilly air around us.
As I step onto the island, a thousand thoughts race through my mind. What kind of life awaits me here? What dangers lurk
in the shadows of their enemies? And most importantly, how am I going to survive this?
Then I spot her. There she is, right at the door. The fake ‘Stacey,’ her hands clasped in front of her. She’s wearing the
same outfit she had on earlier, a smirk plastered on her face. Rage bubbles inside me. I can’t stand the sight of her, the woman
who deceived me, the reason I’m caught in this web.
“Finally. The prostitute for hire is here,” she says mockingly.
Fury propelling me forward, I close the distance between us in a few strides. My hand connects with her face in a
resounding slap. “You bitch! You lied to me!”
She reels from the slap, her eyes flashing with the intent to retaliate. But before she can react, Maxym steps in. He
catches her hand mid-air, his voice stern. “Get your hands off her, Kayla.” He positions himself between us, a barrier of muscle
and authority.
“Kayla. Is that your name?”
Maxym’s gaze hardens, piercing through me as he holds Kayla back. “That’s enough, Sofia,” he warns, his voice low and
commanding.
He then turns to Kayla. “We need her alive and unharmed. Remember our deal.”
“So, what was our deal exactly? Because as far as I can tell, being slapped was not part of it.”
“You’re the one who’s responsible for Sofia’s and the baby’s wellbeing,” Viktor intervenes and Maxym releases his grip
on Kayla.
The irony isn’t lost on me. Kayla, the woman who tricked me into this situation, is now responsible for my welfare. “No
way, I don’t want her anywhere near me.”
“Let’s get this clear,” Maxym begins, his voice steady, “You’re here for a purpose, Sofia. Cooperate, and you’ll be
compensated as agreed. But any more outbursts like this,” he pauses, glancing briefly at Kayla, “will not be tolerated.”
“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth, seeing no choice but to relent. “But she stays on the other side of the house. I don’t
want to see her unless absolutely necessary.”
 Then, the one who’s been silent this whole time finally speaks up. “That can be arranged,” he says. His voice is calm,
almost soothing.
“Here, let me take you to your room,” he offers, gesturing for me to follow him. Relieved to be leaving the volatile
situation behind, I follow him, leaving Maxym, Kayla, and Viktor in the room.
As we walk, the quiet envelops us. I decide to break it. “I didn’t catch your name.”
I just asked this man, one who is most likely part of the mafia, his name. Great move, Sofia.
He doesn’t look at me, but there’s a slight smirk on his face. “I’m Ivan,” he replies, his tone casual, as if we’re just two
people making polite conversation and not in the midst of a bizarre and stressful situation.
His nonchalance throws me off. How can he be so calm? And what role does he play in all this?
Ivan leads me to what is apparently my room, and I can’t help but be taken aback by its size and luxury. It’s more
spacious and lavish than my entire apartment. “So, will you lock me in here?” I ask, half-joking, half-serious.
“No,” Ivan responds with a dry chuckle. “You’re free to leave.”
“What?”
“That’s what I’m here to talk to you about,” Ivan continues, his tone unusually soft. “I know we kind of forced you to
come here, but I’m offering you a choice. You’ve seen we’re legitimate. We can provide you with anything you want, almost
instantly. I understand we brought you here against your will, so I’m giving you one chance, Sofia. To leave. If you want out,
here’s your opportunity. But you won’t get any of this.”
Just as I’m processing his offer, the door opens, and three men enter. They’re all dressed similarly, giving off the vibe of
servants or perhaps employees of this elaborate estate.
Each man carries a briefcase, and they set them down with a precision which suggests this isn’t their first time at such a
task.
Ivan moves towards the briefcases as the men step back. He flips them open one by one, revealing stacks of money,
neatly arranged and filling each case to the brim. The sight is staggering – it’s more money than I’ve ever seen in my life.
“These are yours if you choose to stay,” Ivan states matter-of-factly, indicating the briefcases.
For a moment, the thought of walking away from all this – the luxury, the danger, the unknown, is tempting. But then, my
mind wanders to the three million dollars, the freedom and security it could bring. The things I could do with it.
After a moment of intense contemplation, I make my decision. “Fine,” I say, the words heavy but resolute. “I’ll stay.”
I sit down on the huge bed, taking in the room. Maybe this situation won’t be as horrendous as I initially thought. They
wouldn’t hurt me, not if I’m carrying their child, right?
“Can I ask you something, Ivan?” I inquire, looking up at him.
“Sure,” he responds, closing the door behind the men who brought in the money.
“Why do you need a kid? I need to know,” I press, needing some clarity in this sea of confusion.
“We need an heir,” he answers simply.
“An heir? For what?”
Ivan walks closer and sits right next to me on the bed. “We come from a long line of powerful individuals,” Ivan starts,
his voice carrying the weight of history. “In our world, bloodlines are everything. They represent strength, loyalty, and
influence. Without an heir to carry on the family legacy, we risk losing everything.”
Despite my initial reluctance to believe him, there’s sincerity in his gaze that speaks volumes. “And you see me as the
means to secure this legacy?”
Ivan’s face softens, his hand reaching out to gently caress my cheek. “Sofia,” he starts, his voice laced with genuine
concern. “I understand this is overwhelming for you. But believe me when I say we will do everything in our power to keep
you safe.”
I pull away from his touch. How can I trust him? How can I trust any of them? They’ve taken away my freedom, my
choices, and now they expect me to play their game without question.
Gathering my composure, I decide to steer the conversation towards the practical aspects of this whole arrangement.
“So, how will this, pregnancy, work?”
He smirks, a hint of mockery in his tone. “I thought you were old enough to know how pregnancy worked. Did you need
me to demonstrate, princess?”
 I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks at Ivan’s insinuation, but I quickly regain my composure. His attempt to embarrass
me only strengthens my resolve to remain focused and professional.
“No, no. I mean the medical aspect of it,” I clarify firmly, “like, the procedure for the implantation, the health protocols,
the kind of care I’ll be receiving, things like that.”
Ivan’s smirk fades slightly as he realizes I’m serious about understanding the logistics and not just the basic mechanics of
pregnancy. “Ah, I see. Well, we’ve arranged for top-notch medical care for you. The implantation will be done by a highly
skilled team. They’ll ensure everything goes smoothly, and that the pregnancy is as comfortable as possible for you.”
Then, leaning in closer, he lowers his voice to a whisper, his breath warm against my ear. “If you prefer, we can always
go the traditional way, of course.”
“What does this, um, traditional way include?”
Ivan’s eyes hold mine, a glimmer of something unreadable in their depths. “I’ll show you later if you want. For now, you
should rest, get used to this.” He smirks.
At least they’re taking my well-being and the well-being of the baby seriously. But there’s still a lingering doubt in the
back of my mind, a voice which questions their true intentions.
“What about after the pregnancy?” I ask, my voice steady but laced with curiosity and caution. “What happens to me
then?”
Ivan’s expression softens, his eyes filled with something akin to regret. “After the baby is born, you will be free to go,”
he says, his voice gentle yet tinged with sadness. “You will have fulfilled your purpose, and we won’t stand in your way.”
Free to go. The words ring in my ears, a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos. But can I really believe him? Can I trust they
won’t track me down, use me again or worse?
Ivan stands up, his demeanor shifting back to something more formal. “Rest up. You’ll need it tomorrow when the
doctors arrive.”
“Can I, uh, lock my door?” I ask tentatively, seeking some semblance of privacy and control in this overwhelming
situation.
Ivan chuckles, a sound that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sure, but know that no one will touch you,” then he adds with a
smile, “not unless you ask us to.”
The implication behind his statement sends shivers down my spine, and I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks once again.
What would it be like to do it in the traditional way he mentioned?
Chapter 4
Viktor
As I lean against the wall of the opulent living room, my thoughts are a tangled mess. This entire situation seems surreal,
almost like a plot out of some dramatic novel. Kidnapping Sofia, the surrogacy, the millions at stake – it’s a lot to take in.
I can’t believe we are going through all this hassle just to have an heir. We could have found someone more willing,
more compliant, but no, we ended up with a girl who needed to be coerced. And now, it’s costing us a fortune. Perfect, just
perfect.
Kayla has been a part of our group for years, a trusted assistant. She was the first choice to carry the baby. We were even
ready to pay her more, but Maxym had shot down that idea, saying he didn’t want her to get attached to the baby. Now we’re
left with a total stranger.
At least she’s a sight to look at.
Maxym strides into the room, his usual air of confidence somewhat diminished. I’ve always known him to be a man of
action, someone who didn’t hesitate when it came to tough decisions. But now, as he joins me at the bar and pours himself a
stiff drink, there’s a visible unease in his demeanor.
“I don’t know about this, Viktor,” he says, the weight of our actions apparent in his tone. “She’s not cut out for our
lifestyle. We’re dragging her through hell for what? A child?”
I consider his words, knowing the gravity of our situation. “It was your idea.”
He takes a sip, his eyes distant. He avoids my statement. “Has the doctor done his part? The sooner she’s pregnant, the
better.”
“Yeah, he ran some tests this morning and did what he had to. We’ll check in a week to see if she’s pregnant,” I reply,
keeping my voice even.
Maxym nods, his brow furrowed in thought. “Good. Meanwhile, we need to make her more comfortable around here.”
“How?”
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “How would I fucking know? I don’t do small talk with women. I’m more
about action, less about the chit-chat, especially outside the bedroom.”
“Fine, I’ll think of something to get her to relax.”
“I have a few ideas on how to make her relax,” Maxym says, a suggestive edge to his voice. “Just not sure if she’d be
open to them.”
He lets out a low chuckle, clearly amused by his own thoughts. It’s a sound which carries a mix of confidence and a hint
of mischief, classic Maxym.
Resolved, I make my way to Sofia’s room. Deep down, I know her wants and needs are secondary to our primary goal,
the child. Maxym’s concern for her is purely for the sake of the baby’s safety, too.
Approaching her door, I knock, something I normally wouldn’t do, but I made a promise to Maxym.
As I wait for her to answer, I find myself considering Sofia’s role in all of this. Would she make a good mother? Not that
it really matters to us, but her body certainly looks well-suited for childbirth. She’s definitely not fragile or delicate like the
women who I’ve been with before. I can’t help but imagine how would it be with a woman like her.
Sofia opens the door, her eyes widening when she sees me standing in front of her. “Viktor?” she asks, “is something
wrong?”
I shake my head, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. “No, nothing’s wrong. Maxym just wanted me to check in on
you, see if there’s anything you need.”
She looks at me skeptically, her arms crossing over her chest in defense. “And what does he think I need?”
I take a step closer to her, closing the distance between us. “He thinks you might be more comfortable if you had someone
to talk to,” I say, my voice low and smooth. “To help ease your mind.”
She narrows her eyes at me suspiciously. I have to tread carefully if I want to gain her trust.
“Look, I know this whole situation is, well, unconventional,” I drop my voice to a whisper, “but Maxym and I want you
to feel comfortable here, even if it’s just until the baby is born.”
She scoffs, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Comfortable? How can anyone be comfortable in this kind of situation?”
 I take a step closer, my gaze locked on hers. “I understand this isn’t ideal for you, Sofia. But believe me when I say that
we’re not here to harm you. We need you for one thing, to carry our child.”
“I get that now.”
I gesture for her to sit on the bed and I take a seat next to her, noticing she’s wearing a short skirt.
“So, how did your doctor’s appointment go?” I ask.
As we sit, my fingers brush against her leg almost without thought. To my surprise, she doesn’t pull away. It’s a small
sign, perhaps, that she’s not entirely closed off to me.
“It was... uhm... It was good.”
I notice her gaze drop to my fingers, lingering there. She’s biting her lip, a subtle reaction, but it speaks volumes. It’s
clear she’s on edge, conflicted, maybe even curious.
I lean in closer, my voice low and intimate. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Sofia hesitates for a moment, her eyes darting between my face and my hand still restlessly grazing her thigh. Eventually,
she takes a deep breath and nods. “I suppose talking might help.”
This is exactly what Maxym wanted. To make her feel comfortable, to gain her trust. And if I’m being honest with myself,
there’s a small part of me that’s fine with that.
I let my fingers trail along the length of her exposed thigh, relishing in the way her breath catches in response to my touch.
“Is this okay?” I whisper.
She hesitates for a moment before finally nodding, her lips parting slightly. “Y-yes.”
With that permission granted, I slowly trail my fingers higher along her thigh, the soft fabric of her skirt bunching beneath
my touch.
“Tell me more about your appointment.”
“Well,” she begins, whispering, “the doctor said everything looks good so far. He ran a few tests, checked my hormone
levels...and, uh, made sure I was fertile.”
I tilt my head slightly, my fingertips grazing the sensitive skin just below the hem of her skirt. “And are you?”
She bites her lip, fighting back a small moan as I apply gentle pressure. “Yes,” she breathes out. “He said that there
shouldn’t be any issues.”
“Was any of it painful?” My fingers inch higher under her skirt.
“Just... a little bit.”
“Did it hurt here?” I ask, my fingers now teasingly brushing against the lace of her panties. Sofia’s breath hitches.
“Y-Yes, right there.”
Her response is a shuddering exhale, a silent plea for more. With practiced precision, I begin to stroke her swollen clit,
my fingers adeptly finding the rhythm that brings her pleasure.
My heart races with excitement as I witness Sofia surrender to my touch. She arches her back, pressing herself against
my hand, her breath growing ragged with each stroke. I can feel the heat radiating from her core, a tangible sign of her desire.
I continue to stroke her clit in slow, deliberate circles, my fingers sliding beneath the lace of her panties, bringing her
closer and closer to the edge. Her moans grow louder, escaping her lips in short bursts of pleasure.
“Sofia, let me take care of you.”
Sofia’s eyes flutter shut as my words wash over her. I lean in, my lips hovering just inches from hers.
“Trust me,” I whisper against her mouth, my warm breath fanning across her sensitive lips. “I’ll make you feel so good.”
Her lips part in response, a silent invitation I can’t resist. I capture her mouth in a searing kiss. Sofia moans into the kiss,
her fingers tangling in my hair as she pulls me closer.
Breaking away for a moment to catch our breaths, I trail a path of hot kisses along her jawline, nipping gently at the
sensitive skin beneath her earlobe. I feel her pulse quicken against my lips.
Sofia’s hands grip the fabric of my shirt, her nails digging into my skin as she pulls me closer, desperate for more. My
fingers glide along her slick folds, teasing and coaxing her.
Her moans increase in intensity as I increase the pressure, my fingers swirling and circling until she’s trembling on the
precipice of ecstasy. Sofia’s nails dig into my scalp, but it only fuels my desire to push her further.
 I slide two fingers inside her, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot. Sofia’s body convulses with pleasure, her
back arching off the bed as she cries out in ecstasy. The sound is music to my ears.
“Viktor,” she gasps.
Sofia’s moans become louder, more urgent with each passing second.
She tightens around my fingers, her walls pulsing as she reaches her climax. With a final thrust of my fingers and a flick
of my thumb, I push her over the edge. Sofia’s body trembles with the force of her orgasm, a sheen of sweat covering her
flushed skin.
As she comes down from her high, I watch her with satisfied eyes.
“That should help ease your pain,” I smirk.
I withdraw my fingers slowly, giving her a moment to gather her thoughts. Sofia’s eyes flutter open, glassy with desire
and satisfaction. She looks at me with a mixture of disbelief and awe.
“I... I didn’t expect that,” she stammers.
She shifts slightly on the bed, readjusting her skirt and pulling it down to cover herself. Her breathing remains heavy, her
chest rising and falling with each labored breath.
I reach over to the nightstand and grab a tissue, offering it to her. “Here,” I say gently, “to clean up.”
Sofia takes the tissue, wiping herself carefully before discarding it into the nearby wastebasket. She looks at me, her eyes
searching for something. Recognition, perhaps. Understanding.
Seizing the moment, I decide to leave the door open for future encounters, trying to sound nonchalant. “Whenever you
need a release, you can come by my room,” I say, a smile playing on my lips.
Her response is immediate. “Um... thank you, Viktor.” She blushes deeply.
“You’re welcome, Sofia,” I reply, my voice laced with a seductive tone. “I’ll always be here to take care of you.”
With that, I stand up and make my way to the door.
Chapter 5
Sofia
One of my favorite things, something I’ve always longed to do but could rarely indulge in, is to take a long, hot shower,
shave my legs, and then slip into clean sheets. Back in my cramped apartment, this simple luxury was often just a distant dream.
But here, in this extravagant place, I feel like a literal queen. Wrapping the soft cashmere bathrobe around me feels sinfully
delightful.
This is utterly ridiculous, yet in the best possible way.
I never imagined I would experience such luxury. To be honest, I’d be lying if I said I hated it. Hell, it’s amazing here. I
have my own personal chef, food delivered to my door whenever I want, and if I wish to seek some physical pleasure, Viktor’s
room isn’t far away.
But it’s been a week since that day. Since Viktor touched me. I can’t deny it felt good. More than good, great even.
Maybe I shouldn’t have let it happen, but that doesn’t change the fact I really, really needed it.
I haven’t gone to his room since then. Maybe it’s shyness, or perhaps it’s because he’s never mentioned it again. I think
he wants me to make the first move this time. Will I? I honestly don’t know. The temptation is there, a constant whisper in the
back of my mind. But there’s also a part of me that’s hesitant, unsure about crossing that line again.
I sigh, lost in my thoughts.
Shifting my thoughts away from Viktor and the complicated emotions he stirs in me, I remind myself of the real reason
I’m here. It’s time to take that pregnancy test.
As I prepare to take the test, my thoughts briefly flicker to the egg donor. I wonder who she is. Did she choose this
willingly, or was she coerced like me? The thought leaves a sour taste in my mouth, but I push it aside. Right now, I need to
focus.
I head to the bathroom, the pregnancy test in hand. This small, plastic stick holds so much weight, so many implications
for my future. I take a deep breath and go through the motions, the sound of my heart pounding loud in my ears.
I set the test down and wait, watching as the minutes tick by slowly, each second stretching out endlessly.
As I wait for the result of the pregnancy test, my mind wanders, reflecting on the bizarre turn my life has taken. This
whole experience feels like a strange, twisted vacation. Sometimes, I almost forget I was essentially kidnapped, brought here
against my will. But then I remember that first day, the moment they gave me a choice. And I chose to stay. For the money, for
the opportunity it presented. And truth be told, I don’t regret that decision.
The luxury of this house, the way my every need is catered to, it’s hard to continuously feel like a victim when I’m
surrounded by such comfort. It’s a constant battle between gratitude and guilt, freedom and confinement.
I’m allowed to leave the house, to take strolls along the beach. But of course, they’re always watching. The reality is,
there’s nowhere for me to go, even if I wanted to escape. And why would I? I’m safe here, and there’s a promise of a future I
never could’ve imagined. But that safety comes with a price. My freedom and a piece of my soul, traded for luxury and
security.
I then stare at the pregnancy test, it’s one line.
Negative.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath.
This negative result means more procedures, more waiting, more uncertainty. It also means facing Maxym, Ivan, Viktor,
and their reactions. Will they be frustrated, angry, or just see it as a minor setback in their plans?
As I step out of the bathroom, the negative test in my hand, I brace myself for the conversation ahead.
The realization that no baby means no money sinks in, and with it, a sense of urgency. I can’t afford to lose this luxury.
A knock at my door pulls me from my thoughts. “Come in!” I call out, expecting maybe one of the security guys or, less
likely, one of the men.
Instead, it’s one of the servants. “Your lunch is ready, Miss,” he says with a polite nod.
“Uh, um, thank you. I’ll be right there,” I reply, a bit distracted.
I don’t bother changing out of my cashmere robe. At this hour, the men are usually gone, leaving me in the vast house with
just the security team.
Descending the stairs to the dining room, I reflect on the food here. I always thought healthy food meant dull and tasteless
options. But the chefs, in collaboration with a dietitian, have completely changed my perspective. They’ve tailored a meal plan
for me, considering my weight and nutritional needs, preparing dishes that are both healthy and delicious.
And all this, even though I’m not pregnant yet.
Seated at the table, I’m immediately captivated by the vibrant hues of the grilled salmon, the enticing aroma wafting from
the plate. The quinoa salad, adorned with an array of fresh vegetables, is a burst of colors. It’s a far cry from the dull health
food I had anticipated.
I’m halfway through the salmon, its flavor exploding in my mouth, when his deep voice cuts through the silence. “Good
afternoon, Sofia.”
I freeze, fork mid-air. Maxym stands there, filling the doorway with his imposing presence.
“Maxym. I didn’t expect to see you here at this hour,” I manage to say, setting down my fork.
He walks in, a sense of purpose in his stride. “I wanted to check on you.”
His closeness is unsettling. I feel the heat radiating off him, almost too intense. The room suddenly feels smaller.
“I’m fine,” I reply, trying to sound casual, but my heart betrays me, thumping wildly.
He leans against the table, his gaze piercing. “Did you take the test?”
I nod, my throat tight. “Yes, I did.”
“And?”
“It’s negative.”
“We’ll try again,” he says, his voice steady but I can sense the underlying tension.
“Yeah, I guess.” I frown, grappling with the news. “Try again?”
“Yeah, of course,” Maxym confirms, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
A question has been nagging at me, and now seems like the time to ask. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” he responds, his posture relaxed but attentive.
“So, uh, who’s the donor?” I probe, my curiosity getting the better of me.
“It’s Kayla.” His answer is straightforward, but it sends a jolt through me.
“Kayla?” I can’t hide my surprise. “So, I’ll carry that annoying lady’s baby inside me?”
He laughs a little. “Why do you hate her so much?”
I cross my arms, feeling a mix of frustration and confusion. “Well, she lied to me about this whole thing.”
He leans in, his tone serious yet curious. “Would you prefer if she hadn’t?”
There’s a brief silence as I ponder his question. It’s complicated. Kayla’s deception was the beginning of this entire
ordeal, but had she been honest, would I have even agreed to this?
“I guess not,” I admit finally, the truth of it settling in. Despite everything, Kayla’s lie led me here, to this strange,
luxurious, and complicated life.
“I still don’t like the idea of it, though. She also called me a prostitute.”
“She’s just jealous.”
“Jealous?”
“Yeah,” Maxym admits, “she, uh, she wanted to carry the baby herself. But we didn’t want her to get attached to the baby,
or anything like that. That’s why we chose you instead.”
“Who is she to you guys, really?”
Maxym pauses, as if weighing his words. “She’s been our assistant for years now. She’s trustworthy.”
His brief answer leaves room for doubt. Trustworthy in their line of work could mean a lot of things. “Just an assistant?”
I ask, skeptical. The dynamics here are too complex for such simple labels.
He nods. “Yes, she’s been with us through a lot. She handles our schedules, meetings, and other... delicate matters.”
I lean back, trying to piece together this puzzle. Kayla, the egg donor, the assistant deeply embedded in their lives, now
resentful because of me. This isn’t just business; it’s personal on so many levels.
“Okay,” I say, still not fully convinced but deciding to let it go for now. There are too many layers, and I’m not sure I
want to uncover them all. “As for ignoring her… How can I ignore her when she’s around the house all the time? And I don’t
have anything to distract myself but this TV with three channels!”
Maxym chuckles again, a sound which is starting to grow on me. It’s oddly comforting, seeing this softer side of him.
“Tell me what you need, and I’ll make it happen,” he offers, surprising me with his willingness to accommodate.
I pause, taken aback by his unexpected generosity. “Uh, I want a phone. Definitely. And internet. Maybe a laptop too. Oh,
and I need books. Lots of them.”
His response is quick and to the point. “Just give me a list, and I’ll buy it all.”
“Like, anything?”
“I’ll buy a whole airplane if you asked.”
The absurdity of his statement makes me chuckle. The chuckle turns into a small, genuine laugh, a brief respite from the
constant turmoil of emotions I’ve been feeling since I arrived.
As I watch Maxym’s easy demeanor, a part of me wonders about his past. Who was he before all of this? He couldn’t
have always been this complex figure, a mix of hardness and unexpected kindness. My knowledge of him is limited, framed
only by recent events, but there’s a depth to him I hadn’t anticipated.
Maybe I’ve been too quick to judge, too ready to paint him with a single brush based on our initial interactions. There’s
more to him than meets the eye, layers I’m only just beginning to uncover. It’s a realization that leaves me curious and,
admittedly, a bit confused. Understanding Maxym is like trying to solve a puzzle without all the pieces.
“I’ll have a doctor to check up on you first thing tomorrow morning,” he says.
I nod in agreement to his plan. The thought of facing the doctor again isn’t exactly comforting, but it’s necessary.
Then, Maxym adds something I wasn’t expecting. “And, uh, I’ll get you someone other than Kayla, if you like.”
His offer catches me off guard, but it’s a welcome one. “That’d be great, actually.” I smile. “Where are Viktor and Ivan?”
I ask, trying to shift the conversation.
“They’ll be here tomorrow. For tonight, it’s just me. Why? Am I not enough?” Maxym teases, a playful edge to his voice.
I stumble over my words, not wanting to offend him. “Oh, no, that’s not what I meant. I mean, I—”
“Relax, I’m just kidding.” He then adds, “It can get pretty lonely in this big house.” He leans in a bit closer. “You know,
I’ve been thinking,” he starts, his voice a tempting whisper, “maybe there are ways to make your stay here more... enjoyable.”
I raise an eyebrow, curious despite myself. “Oh? And what would those be?” I ask, my tone matching his.
He closes the distance between us, his presence enveloping. “Well, for starters, I could show you around the house.
There are rooms here you haven’t seen yet. Places that might... pique your interest.”
I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks at his insinuation. Maxym has always had this ability to stir a mix of emotions in
me, frustration, intrigue, and now, an undeniable spark of excitement.
“And after the tour?”
Maxym smirks, leaning in so close I can feel his breath on my skin. “Let’s just say, I’m pretty good at ensuring our guests
are well taken care of. In every possible way. Or maybe,” he continues, his voice dropping to a huskier tone, “we could find
other ways to keep you entertained. I’ve been told I have a knack for discovering what people really want.”
I swallow hard, his words sending a shiver down my spine. This game he’s playing, it’s dangerous, but there’s a part of
me that’s intrigued, drawn to the thrill of it all.
He reaches out, his fingers lightly tracing the collar of my robe. “You see, Sofia, in a house like this, there are countless
ways to find... distraction.”
I can barely breathe, his touch igniting a fire within me. It’s a game of temptation, and Maxym is a master at it. He notices
the effect he has on me, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. He leans in even closer, his breath warm against my ear. “You
should see the way you’re looking at me right now.”
I’m caught off guard by his closeness, his words. “How am I looking at you?”
“Like you’re hungry for something only I can give you.”
God, he’s making me blush.
He leans away from me, surveying me with a look that’s both challenging and seductive. “You know, Sofia, I’ve always
appreciated a woman who knows what she wants. And right now, I can almost read your thoughts.”
 He circles me slowly, like a predator sizing up its prey.
“But here’s the thing,” he continues, his voice low and smooth, “I’m not a man who gives in easily. If you want
something,” he pauses, standing behind me now, his voice a soft rumble in my ear, “you have to come and take it.”
Chapter 6
Maxym
I’m standing there, just behind her, biding my time. It’s a silent standoff, a game of wills, and I’m certain she’ll give in
first. I know she feels it too; it’s only a matter of time.
She’s right in front of me, her back turned, but I can sense her every movement, every breath. I’m close, so close I catch
the scent of her perfume mixed with her shampoo, cherry and strawberry, a sweet, tantalizing fragrance that seems to embody
her.
She smells soft, delicate, just like she is. Fragile and seemingly vulnerable, like she needs protection. But there’s a
strength in her too, a resilience. It’s an intoxicating mix, and it draws me in even more.
Then, she turns around, her eyes meeting mine. Goddamn, those beautiful eyes. Her pupils are dilated, her lips slightly
parted as she takes me in.
I’m not sure how it started, but suddenly we’re right there, face to face. Our eyes lock, heavy with exhaustion and
something more primal. Then, without warning, we’re kissing, and it’s not just a gentle peck. No, we’re devouring each other
like we’ve been starved of this contact for years.
It’s intense, like those desperate reunions you see at airports, where every second apart felt like an eternity. I don’t hold
back, and neither does she.
She pushes me to the sofa and I fall back, letting her take control. I watch as she straddles me, her eyes filled with a
mixture of desire and determination. She bends down to kiss me again, and our lips meet in a desperate embrace.
Then I feel it, the heat between her legs. The wetness there, dripping with lust. It’s intoxicating, like a drug I can’t resist.
She’s grinding against my thigh, her hips moving in a slow, seductive rhythm.
Fuck.
I feel myself grow hard against her belly as she keeps moving on top of me.
My hands reach up to cup her face, locking our lips as she moans in my mouth.
She’s whimpering, saying something I can’t quite understand. She presses harder against me, her hips moving faster now,
creating friction that has me going wild. I can feel the need building inside of me as if there’s nothing else in the world but this
moment.
She’s close; I know it. I feel her tensing up, ready for release.
I must say, she has the most incredible body I’ve ever seen. Glancing down at our entwined bodies makes my heart race
even more.
Her hips continue to move frantically against me as she soaks my trousers with her essence. Her moans echo through the
room, filling it with an electrifying atmosphere. The feel of her wetness against my skin sends shivers down my spine, and I
can’t help but thrust my hips up into the air, seeking more contact.
Her nails dig into my back, leaving tiny red marks that only serve to fuel my desire. She’s so responsive, so eager for
more, that it drives me wild.
She bites her lower lip, a nervous habit that only makes her look even more alluring. Her breasts bounce as she moves,
and I can’t help but reach out to touch them. I slip my hands under the cashmere and her skin is as soft and smooth beneath my
fingertips as the fabric, and I can’t get enough.
I run my hands down her back, feeling every inch of her soft, supple skin. She responds by arching her back, digging her
nails into my shoulders in a way that sends shivers down my spine.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I whisper, my voice hoarse with desire.
Her mouth forms a perfect “O” and then those pretty green eyes roll back as she finds her release.
I watch, mesmerized, as she shudders against me, her body writhing in ecstasy. It’s like watching a piece of art come to
life. The way her body moves, the way her face contorts with pleasure, the way her skin glistens with sweat.
And then I lose myself. Lose myself in the sound of her gasps, the feel of her body vibrating against mine, the taste of her
in my mouth.
For the next half-minute her body continues grinding on top of mine, her moans still echoing softly in the room as she
rides the aftershocks of her climax.
Her hand finds its way in my boxers. She doesn’t break the eye contact as she does so. She wraps her fingers around my
rock-hard cock, and I groan into the still air as she starts jacking me off. It’s intense, like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.
She’s not only beautiful, but also incredibly skilled in the art of pleasure.
Her other hand moves down to cup my balls, gently massaging them as she strokes my dick. It feels like a dream, like
I’ve entered another realm where all my desires are fulfilled.
My breath hitches. I reach down, grabbing the back of her neck, pulling her up to meet my lips in a searing kiss. Her lips
are soft, her tongue eager, and she responds to my advances with a desperation that matches my own.
I can feel her hand moving, exploring, and it’s all I can do not to thrust up against her. I want her so bad it hurts, and I
can’t believe how far we’ve gone in such a short amount of time.
She continues to touch me, exploring my arousal. It feels incredible, and I can feel myself reaching the point of no return.
I’m so close. And then, without warning, she stops, her eyes wide with surprise.
“Wait,” she says, her voice shaky. “We can’t let it go to waste.”
If she gets pregnant now, with me, she’ll be the biological mother, not Kayla. It’s a shift in the plan, a complication I
hadn’t anticipated.
Her voice is seductive. “Yes. The sooner I’m pregnant, the better.”
I study her face, looking for any sign of doubt, any hint of hesitation. But all I see is certainty, a strength I hadn’t given her
enough credit for.
“Alright,” I say finally, the decision made.
And with that, she straddles me once more, her eyes filled with determination and desire. This time, as she lowers
herself onto me, I know we’re going all the way.
Our lips meet in a passionate kiss as she begins to ride me, her hips thrusting with an intensity that sends shivers down
my spine. The wetness between her legs is intense, and I can’t help but thrust up to meet her, seeking more contact.
“Oh my God, Maxym, you feel so good,” she moans, her voice a mix of pleasure and urgency.
I reach up to cup her face, our lips locked in a passionate melding as she continues to move on top of me. Her hips are a
blur, her moans filling the room as she drives herself deeper onto me.
I can feel it building, I know she wants this as much as I do. She’s not holding back, she’s giving herself to me
completely.
Her fingers dig into my shoulders as she thrusts harder, her body arching back in pleasure. I can feel her wetness
surrounding me, her muscles clenching around me, pulling me deeper into her.
She’s whimpering, her voice hoarse with desire as she thrusts herself against me. Her nails dig into my shoulders, bites
of pain that only serve to further fuel the passion. I can’t help but run my hands over her hips, feeling her skin heat under my
touch.
With one final thrust, I feel her body quiver around me, and I know she’s reached her peak. Her face contorts in ecstasy,
her moans filling the room as she rides out the waves of her orgasm.
I can’t hold back any longer. With one more thrust, I feel it too. My body trembles as waves of pleasure wash over me,
and I know this is the moment I’ve been waiting for.
We’re both panting, trying to catch our breaths, the intensity of the moment still hanging heavy in the air. I run a hand
through my hair, frustration and confusion swirling inside me. “Fuck, this shouldn’t have happened,” I mutter, the words tasting
bitter.
She looks at me, her breathing still heavy. “Why? Isn’t this what you wanted? For me to be a surrogate?”
Her question hits me hard. Yes, that was the plan, but the reality of it is so much more complicated. “Yes, but that wasn’t
my choice to make. Not only mine, I mean,” I admit, the weight of the decision pressing down on me.
It’s not just about what I want or what she wants. It’s about the entire plan, the others involved, the consequences of this
moment. I’ve always been good at keeping emotions out of the equation, but this time, it feels different, messier.
I’m conflicted, my mind racing with the potential fallout. I know I was chosen to be the biological dad, but Kayla’s going
to be furious. She wanted to be the biological mom so badly. We got caught up in the heat of the moment and now, Sofia might
be the biological mom, and I didn’t consult the others.
I pause, the weight of the situation heavy on my shoulders. “Fuck, they’ll probably be furious when they find out, won’t
they? Kayla’s going to be livid.”
 Her response is immediate, laced with a defiance that takes me by surprise. “Who gives a shit about what she wants?
And that method didn’t work out anyway. So, I’d rather carry my own biological baby than hers.”
Her words hit me with the force of a slap. She’s right, in a way. The method we chose didn’t yield the results we wanted,
and here she is, offering a solution, albeit a complicated one. Her willingness to take control of the situation, to make a
decision which affects her directly, it’s something I hadn’t expected.
“Look, if you’ll be the biological mom, you need to understand that you won’t have the—” I start, but my words are cut
off as the door swings open.
Ivan stands there, his expression unreadable. He takes in the scene; us, half-naked on the sofa, and for a moment, nobody
speaks. Did he hear us?
Chapter 7
Ivan
There they are, half-naked and clearly just as surprised to see me as I am to find them in this state. Fucking Maxym. I
knew he had a wild streak, but this? It’s reckless, even for him.
We had a plan. Kayla as the biological mother, a choice we all agreed on because we knew her, trusted her. And Sofia?
She’s a wildcard, a stranger we’ve only just begun to understand. How can we trust her to carry our future, our legacy?
And what if she decides to claim some so-called ‘rights’ to the baby? The thought sends a surge of anger through me. I
make a fist, trying to control the sudden rush of frustration.
I stay silent, watching as they scramble to put their clothes on, a sense of urgency in their movements. I cross my arms, a
silent sentinel waiting for them to finish, to acknowledge the situation they’ve created.
Finally, as they’re decent and the immediate shock has worn off, I exhale deeply, preparing to confront the chaos they’ve
stirred. They’ve opened a Pandora’s box of complications, and now, we’re all going to have to deal with the consequences.
My anger is a live wire, sparking with each second I look at them. “How could you?” I finally explode, my voice a mix
of disbelief and rage. “We chose Kayla to be the biological mother. We had a plan, Maxym!”
Maxym, still trying to regain his composure, responds, “I know, I know. It just happened, in the heat of the moment.”
“The heat of the moment, huh?” My voice drips with sarcasm. “So now you’re making decisions on your own? Without
consulting us? I thought we were a team, a family!”
Maxym’s eyes narrow, a clear sign he’s ready to defend his actions. “It wasn’t like that, Ivan. Things got out of hand, and
—”
“Out of hand?” I cut him off, my voice rising. “You jeopardized everything we’ve worked for, everything we’ve planned!
Because of what? A moment of weakness?”
Maxym’s stance hardens, his jaw clenched. “It’s not that simple, and you know it. Yes, I screwed up, but we can manage
this. We always do.”
I scoff, disbelief and anger mingling in a toxic cocktail. “Manage this? Do you even hear yourself? What about trust,
Maxym? What about the fucking agreement we all made?”
He steps forward, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “And what about her rights, Ivan? She’s not just some vessel for our
plans. She’s a person, with her own will and choices.”
I laugh bitterly. “Oh, now you care about her rights? That’s rich, coming from you. You’re the one who dragged her into
this mess!”
She suddenly steps between us, her voice cutting through the heated argument like a knife. “Stop it! Both of you!” Sofia’s
eyes are fierce, her posture defiant. “It was my choice to do this. I agreed to be a surrogate, but no one ever asked me about the
biological parents. And since I’m basically a hostage here, I think I get a say in this.”
I look into Sofia’s eyes, searching for something, anything that might hint at the connection I thought we had. But all I see
is determination and a hint of anger.
My mind is screaming, thoughts racing and colliding. “I thought we had something between us, but I guess I was wrong,
Sofia.” The words are bitter, a mix of disappointment and hurt swirling inside me. I thought I understood her, thought there was
a mutual respect, maybe even more. But standing here now, it’s clear I was mistaken.
Anger’s boiling inside me, jealousy too, though I’d never admit it out loud. Maybe I’d hoped for something more with
Sofia, something intimate. But now, watching her stand her ground, I’m caught between rage and respect. “Fine, do whatever
the fuck you want,” I snap, the words more bitter than I intend.
Sofia looks at me, her expression softening. “Ivan, I’m...”
“Whatever happened between us, it was nothing, Sofia,” I cut her off, the words like acid on my tongue. I don’t mean it,
not really. But she’s chosen Maxym, and that stings more than I expected. I was never good at sharing what I considered mine.
And for a fleeting moment, I thought she could be mine, not his. The jealousy gnaws at me, but I push it down.
I turn to Maxym, my gaze hard. “You’re the one who made this happen. You’ll be the one telling this to Kayla and Ivan.”
He just stands there, no sign of remorse. And that pisses me off even more. I storm out, my mind a whirlwind of anger,
jealousy, and a bitter sense of betrayal. Sofia’s decision, Maxym’s recklessness, it’s all too much.
Maxym’s voice is calm, too calm. “Fine. I’ll tell Kayla. Just because you’re too much of a coward to tell her yourself.”
He steps closer, challenging me with his presence.
I can feel my blood boiling, my fists clenching at my sides. As he inches closer, something snaps. I shove him back, hard.
“Don’t push me, Maxym.”
He stumbles but regains his balance, a smirk playing on his lips. “What, are you jealous, Ivan? Can’t handle the fact that
she chose me?”
That taunt, that damn smirk, it’s all I can take. My fist connects with his jaw before I even realize I’ve thrown the punch.
He retaliates, and we’re suddenly in the midst of a full-blown fight, trading blows like we’re enemies, not allies.
Our grunts and curses fill the room as we go at it, each punch fueled by a mix of anger, jealousy, and pent-up frustration.
This isn’t just about Sofia or the baby anymore. It’s about us, our fractured brotherhood, the tensions that have been simmering
beneath the surface for too long.
As we fight, I can’t help but wonder how it all came to this. We were supposed to be in this together, but now we’re
tearing each other apart. And in the back of my mind, a small voice whispers that no matter who wins this fight, we’ve already
lost so much more.
I can hear a door opening but I don’t turn to see who it is. All I hear is a gasp and the familiar voice of Kayla “What the
hell is going on here?” she demands, rushing forward to push me off Maxym. I barely register the pain as I feel the warm trickle
of blood from my nose, but it’s not important right now.
Sofia’s in the corner, her body shaking. Shit. I never wanted her to see this, to be scared like that. The guilt hits me hard,
but there’s no time to dwell on it.
Kayla’s voice cuts through the tension again. “You both owe me an explanation. What the hell is going on in here?”
She’s standing between us now, her hands on her hips, looking every bit the force to be reckoned with. The room feels
charged, every one of us on edge, a volatile mix of emotions swirling around us.
“Yeah, Max. Why don’t you tell her?” I challenge, wiping the blood from my nose with the back of my hand. It’s a
deflection, a way to pass the buck, but I can’t bring myself to say the words, to reveal the truth that’s turned us against each
other.
Maxym, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip, gives me a wry smile before facing Kayla. The room is thick with
anticipation, every one of us holding our breath for what’s about to unfold.
“Sofia decided to be the egg donor, Kayla. So, you’ll no longer need to be the biological mom,” he states, his voice
steady, but I can see the tension in his jaw.
Kayla’s reaction is a slow burn. Her face remains eerily calm as she processes his words, but her eyes, they’re a storm
about to break. She opens her mouth, then closes it, struggling to find the right words. Finally, she says, “What?” so calmly it
sends a shiver down my spine.
But I know her too well. This isn’t calm. This is the eye of the storm, the quiet before the chaos. Kayla’s always been
insistent, almost obsessive, about being the egg donor. She wanted this role more than anything, and she was perfect for it, up
until now.
As she stands there, her composure teetering on the edge, I brace myself. Kayla isn’t one to take this kind of news lightly.
She’s invested too much, fought too hard to just accept it. And as the silence stretches, I can almost feel the fury building within
her, a tidal wave of emotion ready to crash down on all of us.
Kayla’s incredulous, her voice rising. “This is a joke, right? Tell me this is a joke.”
I shake my head, a grim expression on my face. “No. This isn’t a joke.” I glance at Maxym, gesturing with air quotes.
“Maxym got ‘caught in the moment’.”
Sofia speaks up, her voice firm. “No, it was my decision.”
Kayla turns to her, that all-too-familiar mocking expression on her face, her eyebrows tilted, a twisted smile playing on
her lips. “You thought you could come in here and try to seduce them and replace me?”
Sofia’s retort is quick, her tone assertive. “I wasn’t trying to replace you. I have a say in whose baby I carry inside me.”
“You don’t get to choose that!” Kayla snaps back, her face twisted with anger.
Sofia stands her ground, her voice steady but filled with a quiet rage. “If you wanted it so much, maybe you should’ve
carried it.”
The air crackles with tension, every one of us on edge. Kayla’s voice is ice, her ultimatum clear. “It’s either her or me.”
“What?” I can’t hide my shock. This is escalating too fast.
 “You heard me,” she repeats, her voice unwavering. “Either her or me. I won’t accept this. I won’t stay here anymore.”
There’s a deadly silence, then Maxym, without hesitation, says, “Her.”
I’m taken aback. Wow. If Maxym really chose her that quickly, he must be feeling something towards Sofia. This isn’t just
about the baby anymore; it’s personal.
“Kayla, it doesn’t have to be like this,” I try to mediate, hoping to de-escalate the situation.
“No, it absolutely does have to be like this. You chose this slut, so I—” She’s spitting venom now, but that’s too far.
“You can’t talk to her like that!” I cut in, my voice rising, anger flaring up. It’s one thing to argue, another to hurl insults.
Kayla turns to me, her eyes flashing with betrayal. “Really? You’ll side with her too?”
Kayla’s fury is like a storm, relentless and destructive. “You can’t just replace me. I’ve been with you guys for years!”
Maxym’s stance is firm. “This isn’t about replacing anyone, Kayla. It’s about making the best decision for the heir.”
She’s seething now, her words sharp as knives. “Best decision? By betraying me? By letting this... this woman come in
and take my place?”
Sofia, who’s been quiet until now, speaks up. “I didn’t come here to take anyone’s place. I was brought here against my
will, remember?”
That sets Kayla off. She lunges towards Sofia, a wild look in her eyes. I step in quickly, blocking her path. “Kayla, stop!”
She tries to push past me, but I hold her back. In her rage, she slaps me across the face. The sound echoes in the room, a
sharp crack that momentarily stuns everyone. I don’t retaliate, just hold her wrist firmly, stopping her from causing more harm.
“You should go,” I tell her, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.
“Fine!” Kayla wrenches her wrist away and turns to leave. But she can’t resist one final jab. “Enjoy your little fairy tale
with the homewrecker, Ivan. I hope it’s worth it.”
Her words cut deep, but I don’t let it show. As she storms out, the door slamming behind her, a heavy silence falls over
us.
As Kayla’s footsteps fade away, we both turn to Sofia. Her eyes are glistening with unshed tears, the weight of the
confrontation too much to bear. “Sofia, are you alright?” I ask, concern lacing my voice.
She doesn’t respond, just gives us a look filled with hurt and confusion before rushing towards her room. Maxym moves
to follow her, but instinctively, I know it’s not the right move. I grab his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.
Me and Maxym just had a fight, but it doesn’t change our connection. It couldn’t.
“Maxym, she’s probably mad at both of us. It’s best to let her be,” I advise him, trying to keep my voice calm.
“No, I can’t let her be sad,” he protests, his concern for her evident.
“I know, I don’t want her to be sad either, but us going there will only make her more upset,” I argue, hoping he
understands.
“What do you suggest then?”
“Maybe she should talk to Viktor instead,” I suggest, thinking a neutral party might be what she needs right now.
Maxym pauses, considering my words. After a moment, he frees himself from my grip and nods. “Fine, call Viktor.”
Chapter 8
Viktor
The phone call from Maxym was a fucking bombshell. Kayla’s out, and honestly, I never gave much of a damn about her.
She was part of the furniture here, loyal but not someone I’d lose sleep over. But the shit she pulled on Sofia? That’s what’s got
me riled up.
Sofia, the girl we dragged into this mess, is now caught in a crossfire she didn’t sign up for. And she’s pissed at Maxym
and Ivan, which makes perfect sense. The whole situation is a clusterfuck.
As I head over to sort this out, memories flood in. When we first took Sofia, she looked like a damn deer in headlights in
this place. I’ve seen her around, always by herself, looking like she’s carrying the weight of the world. It’s a tough sight.
Then there’s Kayla. When she joined, she was all fire and steel, ready to take on the world for us. But I never really saw
her, you know? She was just there, doing her job, nothing more.
Now she’ll leave, and part of me feels like I should’ve seen this coming. Could I have changed things? Fuck, I don’t
know. It’s not like I’m the sentimental type.
Standing outside Sofia’s door, I knock hard. “Sofia, it’s Viktor. Can I come in?”
Silence. I’m not surprised. But I’m not leaving until we sort this out.
“Listen, I know you’re pissed. You’ve got every right to be. But shutting us out won’t fix it. Can we talk?”
I say, my voice firm. I’m not here to coddle her, but she needs to understand we’re trying to make things right.
“Hey,” I say as she opens the door. Her eyes are red, puffy from crying. Shit. I hate seeing her like this and wish there
was something I could’ve done to prevent it.
“May I come in?” I ask, my voice softer than usual.
She just nods, sniffing back tears. Damn, this is harder than I thought.
I leave the door slightly ajar behind me and look around, trying to figure out how to lighten the mood, even just a little.
“So, did those assholes hurt your feelings, huh? Don’t worry, I kicked them out of the house,” I say, trying to crack a small joke.
She lets out a little chuckle, and it’s like a small victory. But I know it’s not enough. I need to make her feel safe, let her
know she’s not alone in this fucked-up situation.
We sit on the edge of the bed, the tension palpable. She’s got a tear rolling down her cheek, and it twists something in my
gut. “I never wished it to be like this, Viktor,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
She looks up at me with those damn beautiful green eyes. They’re like a punch to the chest every time.
Without thinking, my hands move to her face, thumbs gently wiping away her tears. “Hey, none of us planned for a soap
opera, but here we are, right?” I try to lighten the mood, but my voice betrays the concern I feel.
She gives a small, watery laugh. “Soap opera? More like a bad mafia movie.”
I can’t help but chuckle, despite the mess we’re in. “Well, if it’s any consolation, you’d definitely be the star of the
show.”
She shakes her head, a faint smile breaking through. “Thanks, Viktor. For a tough guy, you’re not so bad.”
I shrug, trying to maintain my gruff exterior. “Don’t let it get around, or it’ll ruin my reputation.”
I shift slightly, trying to find the right words. “So... you decided to be the biological mother, huh?”
She nods, a determined look in her eyes. “I did, yes. I didn’t want Kayla’s baby in me.”
I let out a low chuckle, the situation’s irony not lost on me. “Yes, that’s understandable.”
“Really?” Sofia looks surprised, maybe even a little relieved.
“Yes. She’s probably gathering her stuff right now and then she’ll leave,” I say matter-of-factly.
Sofia’s gaze turns contemplative. “You don’t feel bad about that?”
“No. Why would I?” I reply. My connection with Kayla was always more business than personal. Her leaving doesn’t
affect me much.
There’s a brief silence as we both sit with the weight of everything that’s happened.
I notice another tear welling up in her eye and instinctively, my hand reaches out to wipe it away. There’s a gentleness in
the gesture, a softness I don’t often allow myself to show. “Tell me,” I urge, my voice low.
 “Tell you what?” She looks at me, a hint of curiosity in her tear-streaked face.
“Tell me one thing that would cheer you up right now.”
She pauses, thinking, then a small smile plays on her lips. “Uh, I don’t know. A grilled cheese?”
I burst out laughing, the sound filling the room, cutting through the tension. “You’re a quite simple girl, you know that?”
She smiles, a genuine one this time. “Why?”
“Because most girls would ask for diamonds and Prada bags, not that there’s anything wrong with wanting those. And I’d
get those for you immediately. But it’s just, really? Grilled cheese?”
She chuckles, the sound warm and light. “All the things you order the chefs to cook for me are too healthy for me to
enjoy. I need something less healthy, I guess. And greasy. Definitely greasy.”
“Fine, I’ll order the chefs to cook it for you,” I offer, already thinking about what instructions to give.
She shakes her head, a playful glint in her eyes. “No, I want you to cook it for me.”
“What?” I’m genuinely taken aback. “I can burn water, Sofia.”
She chuckles, the sound light and teasing. “Come on, how hard could it be? It’s just bread and cheese.”
I rub the back of my neck, feeling slightly out of my depth. “I’ve never made grilled cheese before.”
“What? Really?”
“Yes,” I admit, a bit defensively. Cooking was never my thing. I’m more about giving orders than following recipes.
Her smile widens, and she gives a soft laugh. “Well, there’s a first time for everything, Viktor. Come on, it’ll be fun.”
I look at her, this woman who’s managed to bring a bit of light into the grim situation we’re in. And despite my better
judgment, despite the voice in my head telling me it’s a bad idea, I find myself nodding. “Alright, let’s make a damn grilled
cheese.”
We step into the kitchen, and damn, it’s like walking into a chef’s paradise. Gleaming countertops, every gadget you can
imagine, and those tall window walls letting in streams of sunlight. The view outside is stunning, the gardens sprawling out
beyond the glass. But I’m not here to admire the view; I’ve got a mission.
“Okay, where the hell do they keep the bread?” I mutter, opening and closing cabinets like I’m searching for hidden
treasure.
Sofia’s leaning against the counter, a smirk on her face. “Usually where the other food is,” she quips, clearly enjoying
this.
I shoot her a look, but it’s hard to stay frustrated when she’s laughing. “Very helpful, thanks.” Finally, I find the bread,
and a small victory is mine.
Next, the cheese. I’m standing in front of the fridge, doors wide open, staring at an array of cheeses. “Which one is the
‘grilled cheese’ cheese?” I ask, feeling out of my depth.
Sofia walks over, pointing to a simple cheddar. “That one. You can’t go wrong with cheddar.”
Armed with bread and cheese, I turn to the stove. “Now, how do you turn this thing on?” I’m half-joking, but the stove
looks like it belongs in a spaceship with all its buttons and dials.
Sofia’s laughter fills the room, and I can’t help but smile. “Let me show you, chef Viktor,” she says, stepping closer to
help.
As I fumble with the stove, Sofia steps in to help, and suddenly she’s right there in front of me. I’m close, so close I can
feel the warmth of her body and the soft rhythm of her breath. She reaches out to the knobs, and I can’t resist the pull. I step
closer, my chest nearly touching her back, my breath mingling with hers.
“Like this,” she murmurs, her voice a soft caress in the air between us. She’s showing me how to control the heat, but all
I can focus on is the nearness of her, the subtle scent of her shampoo filling my senses.
Her hands guide mine, her fingers light and sure over mine. The world narrows down to just this, the two of us making a
simple sandwich in a kitchen too big for just us.
Sofia takes my hands, guiding them around her. My right hand comes to rest on her right side, my left on her left, as if
we’re locked in an embrace. She’s facing the counter, and I’m facing her, our bodies nearly touching.
She focuses on assembling the sandwich, her hands deftly placing the cheese between the slices of bread. She’s showing
me each step, but my mind is barely on the task. All I can think about is the feel of her under my hands, the curve of her waist,
the softness of her hair just inches from my face.
“You’re awfully quiet back there, Viktor,” Sofia teases, her voice tickling my ear like a secret.
I clear my throat, trying to sound casual. “I’m just concentrating on making sure the sandwich is right.” Who knew grilled
cheese could be this damn intense?
She laughs, a light, melodious sound that does strange things to my insides. “If you’re concentrating that much, you can do
it yourself,” she says, stepping away and leaving me to fend for myself.
As she turns to face me, the proximity catches me off guard. She’s right there, so damn close I could count the flecks of
color in her green eyes.
“You’re right in front of me,” I say, my voice a low rumble. “How can I focus on the sandwich?”
Her smile widens, and she leans in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Is the big, bad Viktor getting distracted by little
ol’ me?”
I try to maintain my composure, but her closeness is disarming. “No, no way,” I counter, even though every part of me is
acutely aware of her.
“Prove it,” she challenges, moving even closer, her breath mingling with mine.
The air between us is charged, her challenge hanging there like a gauntlet thrown down. I stop what we’re doing, my
focus entirely on her. My right hand finds the cabinet, and I lean in close, so close I can see flecks of gold in her eyes.
In that moment, something inside me snaps. My hand finds her waist, pulling her closer with an urgency I can’t quite
control. Our faces are inches apart, our lips almost touching.
Her eyes lock onto mine, wide and expectant, and I can feel her breath on my skin, warm and quick.
But then, the sharp beep of the stove cuts through the silence like a siren. We both freeze, our eyes snapping towards the
source of the sound. The grilled cheese. Shit.
In a flash, we break apart, and I rush to salvage what’s left of our culinary adventure. “Fuck,” I mutter as I lift the
blackened sandwich from the pan, the smell of burnt bread filling the air.
Sofia bursts into laughter, the sound bright and clear. She wipes a tear from her eye and teases, “Well, Viktor, you were
right about one thing.”
I raise an eyebrow, curious despite myself. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”
She grins, mischief dancing in her eyes. “You really can burn water or, in this case, grilled cheese.”
I let out a laugh, shaking my head at her words. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I never claimed to be a chef.”
She leans back against the counter, still smiling. “Maybe stick to the tough guy stuff. Leave the cooking to the
professionals.”
I cross my arms, pretending to be offended. “Hey, I’ll have you know, I’m a man of many talents. Cooking just isn’t one
of them.”
Her laughter fills the room again, and it’s a sound I’m starting to get used to, one I want to hear more of. “I’ll believe it
when I see it, Viktor.”
I find myself opening up more than I intended. “You know, I’m actually glad it’s you who will be the biological mother of
the kid, not Kayla.”
Her smile is soft, sincere. “I’m glad you think that way.” There’s a warmth in her eyes that draws me in, and we lean
closer, the pull between us undeniable.
But just as our lips are about to meet, the sound of the front door closing echoes through the house. We both freeze, the
moment shattered.
“Who was that?” she asks.
“Probably Kayla,” I reply, a tinge of annoyance in my voice. “She was gathering her stuff...”
Sofia bites her lip, her brow furrowed. “You think she heard us?”
I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. “Well, I don’t really care if she did or not.” But deep down, a part of me is wary.
Kayla’s unpredictable, and there’s no telling how she might react.
Chapter 9
Sofia
It’s been a week since that intense night, and things have surprisingly settled down. I’ve made up with almost all the
Bratva men, and we’ve reached a sort of agreement. They’re going to spend time with me, at least once a week. Because, let’s
face it, I was dying of boredom in this luxurious but isolating mansion.
But there’s still one line on that damned pink stick. I am still not pregnant.
They’ve also given me the freedom to choose whose baby I wish to carry. That’s a heavy choice, one I’m honestly not
sure how to make. I’m terrible at making decisions at the best of times, and this? This is definitely not the best of times.
They are all so... compelling. Handsome, tall, and despite their somewhat morally gray areas, there’s something
undeniably attractive about each of them. Viktor with his gruff exterior and unexpected kindness, Ivan with his intensity and
surprising moments of gentleness, Maxym with his commanding presence and hidden depths.
And it’s not just their looks, though that would be enough to turn any girl’s head. It’s the way they carry themselves, the
power and confidence they exude. They’re dangerous, yes, but in a way that’s thrilling, not terrifying.
I find myself thinking about what it would be like to have a child with each of them. To see which parts of them would
shine through in a son or daughter. It’s a strange thought, but it’s there, lingering in the back of my mind.
But for now, I’m focusing on the here and now.
Tonight, we’re having a TV session. A simple thing really, just watching a movie, but it feels like a small slice of
normalcy in my otherwise chaotic life here. And I get to choose the movie. Great, another decision.
What is it with all these decisions I must make? I’m a Libra, for crying out loud. Decisions are the bane of my existence.
As a kid, when people would ask what I wanted to be when I grew up, my answers would range wildly. One day, a
doctor, the next, a dancer. Then maybe a lawyer, a flight attendant, a model. Anything and everything was possible. And don’t
even get me started on choosing a favorite color. Purple, green, yellow, blue; why limit yourself to just one?
But honestly, choosing a movie is a welcome reprieve from the bigger, more daunting decision looming over me:
choosing the father of the child I’ll be carrying. Compared to that, picking a movie is a piece of cake.
As I scroll through the options, I realize this is more than just a movie night. It’s a chance for me to have a say, to exert a
little control over my situation. And even though it’s just a small thing, it feels good. It’s a reminder I’m not only a pawn in
their game; I’m a person with my own thoughts, my own preferences, my own life.
So, I’ll choose the movie tonight, and I’ll enjoy it. And as for the other decision? Well, that can wait for another day. For
now, I’m just going to focus on the here and now, on the simple pleasure of a movie night with the Bratva men.
I grab the bowl of popcorn from the counter, the buttery aroma filling the air, and head towards where they’re sitting.
Maxym, Ivan, and Viktor are side by side on the couch, looking like they’re gearing up for some serious movie-watching.
I take my spot right between Maxym and Ivan, the best seat in the house, if you ask me.
“Okay, so,” I start, pausing for effect as I settle into the cushions. “I finally made my decision,” They all lean in slightly,
like they’re bracing for a big announcement. I can practically see them holding their breaths, “about the movie.”
The collective sigh that follows is almost comical. I can’t help but chuckle at their reactions.
“Oh, come on!” Ivan laughs, shaking his head. “You really had us there for a second.”
“Yeah, Sofia, you’re a master of the dramatic pause,” Maxym adds, a playful grin on his face.
I roll my eyes and shrug, trying to hide the fact I’m quite pleased with myself. “Well, I had to make it interesting
somehow.”
“Fair enough,” Viktor mutters, his attention seemingly fixed on the screen.
I lean forward to grab the remote, my fingers accidentally brushing against Viktor’s in the process. He doesn’t flinch, but
there’s a momentary glance, an unspoken acknowledgment. I press play, and the movie starts.
I chose ‘The Notebook’. A classic romance, and yes, a sappy one at that. As the title appears on the screen, there’s a
collective groan from the guys.
“Oh, come on, you really chose a romance movie? And a sappy one too?” Ivan complains, throwing his hands up in mock
despair.
“What’s wrong with a little romance?” I tease back, secretly wondering if they’ll actually enjoy it.
 Maxym snorts. “Nothing, if it’s paired with some action or thriller, maybe.”
Viktor just shakes his head, a half-smile playing on his lips. “Let’s just watch the damn movie.”
As the movie plays, I steal glances at the Bratva men, their expressions ranging from amused to mildly interested. It’s
surreal, watching ‘The Notebook’ with three of the most feared men in the underworld. The irony isn’t lost on me.
A few minutes in, Ivan shifts uncomfortably. “So, this is what you women like, huh? Guys building houses for their
girls?”
I chuckle. “Not all of us, but yeah, some find it romantic.”
Maxym, who’s been silently observing the movie, chimes in. “Building houses, writing letters, rowing boats in swan-
filled lakes. Is that the standard we’re failing to meet?”
Viktor, ever the quiet one, adds dryly, “If you ask me, we’re more of the ‘protect and survive’ type. Building houses is a
bit out of our league.”
I laugh, enjoying their banter. “Well, maybe after all this, you could consider a career change. Bratva to builders?”
Ivan snorts. “Can you imagine? ‘From guns to hammers, the Bratva way’. It’d be a hit reality show.”
We continue watching, and as the movie reaches its more emotional scenes, I notice them trying to mask their reactions.
Maxym’s jaw clenches at a particularly sad part, Ivan’s foot starts tapping rapidly, and even Viktor’s eyes seem a bit shinier
than usual.
“Didn’t know you guys were such softies,” I tease, nudging Maxym with my elbow.
He shoots me a look that’s half annoyance, half amusement. “We’re not soft. Just appreciating the art.”
“Yeah, the art of making grown men uncomfortable,” Ivan adds, but I catch him quickly wiping his eye.
As the movie progresses, their comments become fewer, their attention more fixed on the screen. By the end, as the
credits roll, there’s a heavy silence.
“Well,” Viktor finally says, “that was...something.”
Ivan stretches, trying to act nonchalant. “Yeah, something. Like a two-hour lesson on what not to do.”
Maxym shakes his head. “I need a drink.”
I can’t resist the urge to tease them a little more. “Oh, come on, admit it, it wasn’t that bad.”
Maxym pauses, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever watched,” he concedes,
“but don’t expect me to start quoting it anytime soon.”
Ivan, who’s been quietly collecting the empty popcorn bowl, chimes in. “Yeah, and if I ever start writing you love letters
every day for a year, just shoot me.”
Viktor, standing by the door, adds, “Or build a house with our bare hands. That’s a no-go as well.”
I laugh, enjoying their discomfort. “Well, it’s good to know your limits. But admit it, it got to you. Even just a little bit.”
Maxym rolls his eyes but there’s a lightness to his tone. “Maybe a little. But if you tell anyone, I’ll deny it.”
Ivan grins, a rare sight. “Yeah, what happens during movie night stays in movie night,” and still grinning, adds, “next time
we’re watching something with car chases and explosions. I need to balance out all this sentimentality.”
I’m nestled comfortably between them, the warmth and the shared laughter making the room feel cozier than it ever has.
It’s strange how a movie can bring people together like this.
Maxym’s gaze suddenly turns serious. “So, have you finally made your decision?”
I look up, puzzled. “What decision?”
“Whose baby you want to carry,” he clarifies, his tone even.
Oh. That decision. I pause, taking a moment before I respond. “Oh, about that... I was thinking... all of you.”
Ivan chuckles, disbelief written all over his face. “What? We only need one baby. Not... three.”
I rush to explain, “I know. Just one baby. It’s just that... I don’t really want to choose...”
Viktor’s voice is firm. “But you must choose.”
I look at them, each face showing a different reaction. “Does it really matter to you guys who is the father out of the three
of you?”
Maxym’s response is immediate. “No, not really, as long as it’s ours.”
 “Okay then, I’ll have all three of you as the father,” I declare, a bit more boldly than I feel.
Ivan, ever the joker, chuckles as he takes a sip of his drink. “Well, that’s not how biology works, sweetie.”
I roll my eyes, not in the mood for a lesson. “Don’t teach me biology. I know it. What I was trying to say is that, if I have
sex with all three of you and you can’t be sure who’s the father, then it would technically be all of your kid. Isn’t that right?”
There’s a short silence as I wait for their reaction, watching them closely. I can almost swear I see a hint of a blush on
their tough faces.
Finally, Viktor breaks the silence. “So, you’re suggesting a foursome?”
Maxym and Ivan exchange a glance, clearly trying to process this new development. I can see the desire and curiosity in
their eyes, but also the fear of stepping into uncharted territory.
“Well, that’s one way to put it,” I respond, trying to lighten the mood.
Ivan speaks up, voice slightly shaky. “We’ve never done anything like this before. It’s not part of our, our rules.”
“Yeah, I get that,” I reply, understanding the gravity of what I’ve just suggested. “But haven’t we already broken so many
rules? We’re way past traditional here.”
Maxym, who’s been quietly listening, finally speaks. “It’s unconventional, to say the least. But,” he pauses, considering,
“it might be the most equitable solution.”
Before I can process Maxym’s words, my gut twists. Something’s off. A faint sound, almost like a yell, cuts through the
air, abruptly silenced. It’s chilling, making my skin crawl.
Then, before I can even utter a word, hell breaks loose.
In an instant, the calm atmosphere shatters, literally. The sound of glass breaking violently fills the room, followed by the
unmistakable echo of gunfire from outside. It’s chaos, sudden and terrifying. It’s a sound so horrifying, so real, it’s like nothing
I’ve ever heard before.
Bullets whiz through the shattered windows, embedding strikes of death in the walls, sending plumes of plaster and
debris into the air.
Maxym’s reaction is immediate. He pushes me down to the floor, covering me with his body, an instinctive shield against
the danger. His weight presses down on me, a protective barrier between me and the flying bullets. “Get down!” he screams to
the others.
Ivan and Viktor are already moving, ducking for cover, their expressions hardened into those of soldiers ready for battle.
The room is a mess of noise and motion, everyone springing into action, but all I can focus on is the rapid beat of Maxym’s
heart against my back and the sound of my own frantic breaths.
As the gunfire continues, a terrifying thought crosses my mind: we’re under attack. The Bratva’s enemies have found us,
and they’re not holding back. I’m suddenly acutely aware of the danger, the reality of the world I’ve found myself in.
Ivan and Viktor return fire, their movements swift and practiced. The air is thick with the smell of gunpowder and fear.
I’m trembling, the realization of how close I came to death sending shockwaves through my body.
Through the chaos, I see one of our attackers fall, his body crumpling to the ground in a heap. The others retreat, dragging
their fallen comrade, leaving behind a trail of blood and destruction.
Maxym’s voice is in my ear, firm, and commanding. “Stay down, Sofia. Don’t move.” I nod, understanding the
seriousness of the situation. I’m no longer just an unwilling participant in their plans; I’m now a target in their war.
The sounds of gunfire mix with shouts, the screech of tires, and more breaking glass. It’s a symphony of violence, one that
I never wanted to hear.
As I lie there, beneath Maxym, I realize how fragile our little bubble of safety was.
Chapter 10
Maxym
The chaos finally dies down, the silence almost as deafening as the gunfire. But we can’t stay here. Not when Sofia’s in
danger. Her whole body is trembling like a leaf in a storm, shock painted all over her face. This isn’t her world, and she’s
never seen shit like this before.
“Sofia. Sofia!” I shake her gently by the shoulders. She tries to speak, but no words come out, just uncontrollable
shaking. Without wasting a second, I scoop her up, her weight almost nothing in my arms, and bolt towards the backdoor.
We need to move, and fast. I carry her through the sprawling gardens, her head resting against my chest. The mansion’s no
longer safe; it’s a damn war zone.
The boat’s docked at the back, our quickest escape route. “Hold on,” I tell her, even though she’s too shaken to respond. I
can feel her heart racing against mine.
Fucking enemies, always lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike. But they won’t get her. I’ll die before I let that happen.
I rev the engine, the boat cutting through the water like a bullet. Sofia’s silent, her body still pressed against me, her
breathing erratic. This isn’t what she signed up for, being caught in the crossfire of our Bratva bullshit.
But she’s with me now, and I’ll protect her with every damn breath in my body. They want a war? They’ve got one.
We’re speeding away, the boat slicing through the water like a hot knife through butter. Sofia’s next to me, her body still
shaking, her silence a heavy weight in the air. She’s in shock, the poor girl.
“Sofia, hey. Look at me,” I say, my voice firm but gentle. She needs to snap out of it, to understand we’re safe now, at
least for the moment. “Hey, you’re okay, alright? We got out. You’re safe here.”
Her voice is a trembling whisper when she finally speaks. “W-what about the others? Viktor and Ivan? Who is behind
this attack?”
I keep my eyes on the water ahead, but I squeeze her hand reassuringly. “Viktor and Ivan will be fine. Don’t worry about
them right now, okay?” I mean, those guys are as tough as they come. They know how to handle themselves.
But I understand her concern. We’re a fucked-up family, but we’re a family nonetheless. “As for who’s behind this, I
don’t know. But I swear, Sofia, I’ll find out. And when I do, they’ll regret ever messing with us.”
Me, Ivan, and Viktor have an agreement. We know our roles in these fucked-up situations. Mine was to get Sofia to
safety, and they’d handle the rest. And I trust them. They’ll sort out who’s behind this, make them pay.
As we reach the shore, Sofia’s body finally gives in to the overwhelming shock. She leans over the side, throwing up. It’s
a lot for anyone to take in, especially someone not used to our brutal world.
I don’t blame her. This isn’t her normal. This isn’t what she should ever have had to face. I hold her hair back, my hand
steady on her back. “It’s okay,” I tell her.
“No, don’t look,” she mutters between heaves.
I give a short chuckle, not because it’s funny, but because it’s such a damn human reaction. “Come on, I’ve seen worse.”
And that’s the truth. In my line of work, a little vomit is nothing.
But I get it. She’s embarrassed, shaken, and probably feeling a thousand different things right now. I don’t push her.
“Will you be alright?” I ask her, knowing it’s a stupid question even as the words leave my mouth.
She’s incredulous, her voice rising with a mix of fear and frustration. “Will I be— We were under a fucking assault back
there—” She cuts herself off as she notices a few bystanders turning to look, their curiosity piqued by her outburst.
Realizing she’s attracting unwanted attention, she crosses her arms and moves closer to me, her voice dropping to an
urgent whisper. “Who the hell was behind that shooting, Maxym? How did they find out where we were?”
I sigh, feeling the weight of her fear and frustration. “I don’t know, but I’m sure Viktor and Ivan have already handled it.”
I try to sound confident, but the truth is, the uncertainty gnaws at me too.
Sofia exhales sharply, her eyes locking onto mine. “Okay, okay, but where are we going?”
“Somewhere safe,” I reply, but even as I say it, I know it’s not enough.
“I thought that island was safe, too!” she retorts, her fear turning to anger. “I didn’t agree to this, Maxym!”
“Sofia,” I say, my voice softer, trying to convey every ounce of reassurance I can muster. “I know. I know you didn’t
agree to this. But I promise you, I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe. We’re going to a place I know, a place no one
would think to look for us. Trust me, please.”
She looks at me, and for a moment, neither of us says anything. Then, slowly, she nods. “Fine. I trust you.”
Then, in a move that catches me off guard, she slips her hand into mine, interlocking our fingers. Her hand is warm
against mine, a stark contrast to the cold, harsh reality we’ve just faced. It’s a small gesture, but it feels significant, like she’s
not just placing her hand in mine, but also a piece of her trust.
I give her hand a gentle squeeze, a silent promise I won’t let her down.
I pat my pockets, a sinking feeling hitting me as I realize my phone’s not there. Must’ve left it back at the house. Fuck, this
is a problem. Without my phone, I’m cut off, can’t even call for a damn pickup.
Of all the times to be without a phone, this has to be the worst. And to make matters worse, I’m practically penniless. No
way to get us out of here without contacting one of my men.
I’ve always relied on my phone, never bothered to memorize numbers. Why would I, when everything’s just a click
away? But now, as I stand here, Sofia’s hand in mine, I’m cursing myself for not listening to Viktor and Ivan. They always
nagged me about memorizing their numbers, just in case.
Turns out, they were right. Not that I’d ever say that to their face.
“Do you have your phone with you?” I ask, hoping against hope she’s more prepared than I am.
She checks her pockets, a look of disappointment crossing her face. “No...” she trails off.
“Fuck.” The word slips out before I can stop it. “Then we’re fucked because I didn’t memorize anyone’s number.”
But then, she surprises me. “I have memorized all of your numbers,” she says, and I stare at her in disbelief.
“What? Really?”
She nods, “Well, there isn’t much to do in your house other than memorize stuff, and I thought I might need it one day.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Of all the things Sofia could have done to pass the time, memorizing our
numbers might just be the thing that saves us now. I never expected this, never even considered she’d be the one to bail us out
in a situation like this.
“You’re a lifesaver, Sofia,” I say, meaning every word. “Let’s find a phone. Any phone. We need to make that call now.”
We stumble upon a phone booth, a relic in this modern age, and it’s our best shot. But damn, these things work with coins,
and I don’t have a single penny on me. Fucking hell. We can’t use it, and I sure as hell can’t just rough up some passerby for
their phone.
Or can I?
That’s when I realize Sofia’s slipped away from my side. I turn to see her a few meters away, chatting up some strangers
with an ease that surprises me. I catch bits of her conversation, the laugh in her voice, “Can you believe it? I mean, both of our
phones, we’ve left them in the cab.”
She’s laughing, talking, connecting with them in a way that’s so natural, so effortlessly human. And it hits me just how
adept she is at navigating situations without force or threats. She’s getting things done her way, and it’s working.
I watch as one of the strangers hands her their phone with a friendly smile, and she waves it triumphantly at me. I can’t
help but admire her in this moment. She’s out of her depth, thrown into a world of danger and chaos, yet here she is, handling it
with a grace and charm I couldn’t muster.
Sofia dials the number, her voice low, as she stands next to the stranger. I move closer, trying to overhear without
drawing too much attention.
“Hi, Ivan, it’s Sofia, uh, did you make it out of there alright?” she says into the phone.
She’s playing it cool, not giving away too much in front of the stranger. Smart girl. She continues, “Yeah, we’re, uh,
we’re kind of stranded here.”
Then she covers the mouthpiece with her hand and turns to the stranger. “Where did you say we were?” Her voice is
casual, but I can see the tension in her shoulders.
“We’re in Sea Bright, New Jersey, right by the shore,” the stranger replies helpfully.
With a forced smile I can tell is fake, she thanks him and turns back to the phone. “We’re at Sea Bright, right next to a
phone booth. Can you pick us up?”
As she speaks, I’m watching her, seeing the stress and strain she’s under. She’s handling it well, incredibly well, but I
know this isn’t easy for her.
 Sofia ends the call with a genuine smile of gratitude to the stranger. I’ve come to know her expressions well enough by
now, and this one’s real.
The man next to her finally notices me approaching. “I’m sorry this has happened to you. Hopefully, you’ll get your
phones back,” he says, a sympathetic look in his eyes.
The woman with him, speaking in a highly pitched voice, chimes in, “This must be your fiancée, then.”
Sofia glances at me, a hint of panic in her eyes, but she covers it quickly. “Uh, yes, my fiancé,” she says, playing along.
There’s no time for lengthy explanations or chitchat. We need to keep moving, stay ahead of any potential danger. “We
must get going,” I say, my voice firm.
The couple nods, wishing us well, and we turn to leave. As we walk away, I feel Sofia’s hand slip into mine again.
“Fiancée, huh?” I tease quietly, trying to lighten the mood.
She gives a small, weary laugh. “Seemed like the best cover story at the time.”
I squeeze her hand reassuringly. “You did good. We’ll be out of this soon.”
Chapter 11
Sofia
As Viktor and Ivan pull up in their separate SUVs, Maxym immediately recognizes the cars. I can only tell by their sleek,
imposing looks – typical Bratva style, I guess.
Maxym’s hand wraps around mine as we move towards the vehicles, his grip firm and reassuring. I feel a blush creeping
up my cheeks at his touch. His hands are large and warm, a stark contrast to the cool night air.
He heads towards Viktor’s car while I’m guided to Ivan’s. As I slide into the back seat next to Ivan, I’m hit by a wave of
exhaustion, the adrenaline of the night’s events finally wearing off.
“You okay?” Ivan asks, concern etched on his face as he looks me over.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. How about you?” I manage to reply, trying to sound more composed than I feel.
“We’re fine,” he answers with a slight nod. “We were worried about you two, though. Are you hurt?”
“No, no, I’m not,” I assure him, and I mean it. Physically, I’m unscathed, but mentally and emotionally, I’m a bit of a
wreck.
Ivan exhales sharply, a sound of relief that fills the car. “Good. That’s good.”
Ivan looks good. Really good, despite the night’s events. There’s something undeniably attractive about his rugged
appearance. His shirt is unbuttoned at the front, revealing a hint of his chest, and there’s blood on his knuckles. I wonder briefly
if he got into a fight; given the situation, it’s more than likely. And knowing Ivan, the other person probably got the worse end of
it.
“Did you manage to find out who it was? The attack, I mean?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
He shakes his head, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. “No, not yet.”
He doesn’t look at me, and I find myself staring at his profile, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his hair falls just so.
He’s always had an intense, commanding presence that’s hard to ignore.
But then, the paranoia creeps back in, gnawing at my thoughts. “What if they find us again? Where are we going?”
Ivan finally turns to look at me, his eyes meeting mine. There’s a seriousness in his gaze, but also a reassuring steadiness.
“We’re going to a safe house. It’s secure, off the grid. You’ll be safe there, Sofia.”
His assurance is comforting, but the fear isn’t easily quelled. “But how can you be sure? After tonight...”
Suddenly, Ivan’s hand reaches out, gently cupping my cheek, and I swear my heart skips a beat. His touch is surprisingly
soft.
“It will be alright, I promise. I will kill whoever dared to hurt you,” he says, his voice low and intense.
The contact sends a warm rush through me, my skin tingling where his fingers rest. His eyes are fixed on mine, fierce and
protective, and in that moment, I see a different side of Ivan, one that’s both terrifying and strangely comforting.
I can feel the heat rise to my cheeks, a blush coloring my face. It’s an involuntary reaction, one I’m not entirely
comfortable with, but can’t seem to control. His proximity, the feel of his hand on my skin, it’s overwhelming, sending my
senses into overdrive.
There’s a part of me that wants to look away, to break this intimate connection, but I can’t. His thumb gently strokes my
cheek.
“Until you give us a baby, you’re under our protection,” he says, his voice a low growl that resonates deep within me.
“And anyone who dares to touch even a strand of your hair, will lose that hand.”
I find myself leaning into his touch. “You don’t have to go that far,” I whisper.
But Ivan shakes his head, his thumb caressing my cheek. “I do. We do. That’s how it works with us. You’re not just
carrying a child; you’re carrying a part of us. And we protect what’s ours, fiercely.”
His declaration, so raw and unfiltered, leaves me breathless. The danger, the violence that’s an inherent part of his
world, it’s all laid bare in that statement. And yet, there’s an undeniable sense of belonging, of being valued and cared for in a
way I’ve never experienced before.
Minutes pass in silence, and I find myself oddly missing the warmth of Ivan’s touch, the reassuring pressure of his hand
against my cheek. I turn my gaze to the window, watching the city lights blur past us.
That’s when I notice it – a red car trailing behind us. At first, I think it’s a coincidence, but as the minutes tick by, the car
remains a constant presence in the rearview mirror. A sense of unease begins to creep over me, the feeling of being watched
growing stronger with each passing moment.
“Hey, Ivan,” I start, trying to keep my voice steady. “Have you noticed that red car behind us? It’s been following us for a
while.”
Ivan glances in the rearview mirror, “No one is following us, Sofia.”
“But it’s been there for like ten minutes.”
He shoots another glance in the mirror, his face still calm. “It’s a common car, Sofia. Could be anyone. And we’re not
that easy to track.”
I bite my lip, not entirely convinced. “I don’t know, Ivan. It just feels off.”
Ivan sighs, a hint of frustration in his voice. “Look, I get that you’re on edge after tonight, but trust me, we’re safe. We
know how to cover our tracks. And if anyone was stupid enough to follow us, they’d regret it.”
As we drive on, the car eventually turns off, disappearing from view. A part of me is relieved, but another part can’t help
but wonder if it was more than just a coincidence. In this world of danger and deception, it’s hard to know what’s real and
what’s just fear.
As the car rolls on, the hum of the engine and the rhythm of the road lull me into a drowsy haze. My eyelids grow heavy,
the events of the night weighing them down like lead. Before I know it, I’m drifting off, my head finding its way to Ivan’s lap,
though I’m barely aware of it happening.
Time slips away in a blur of half-consciousness. When I finally come to, I’m greeted by the gentle sensation of Ivan’s
hand running through my hair. I don’t move, not wanting to break the calm that’s settled over me.
“You’re awake,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft.
I nod, not trusting my voice. There’s a warmth in his touch, a comfort I didn’t expect to find here, with him.
“We’re almost at the safe house,” he continues, his fingers still threading through my hair.
“How long was I out?” I ask, my voice still heavy with sleep.
“About an hour,” he replies. “You needed it.”
I sit up slowly, stretching my stiff muscles. The car’s interior is dimly lit, the world outside a dark blur. I can feel the
tension from earlier easing, replaced by an unexpected sense of security.
“You didn’t have to—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“It’s okay,” he says.
The car finally pulls up to what I can only describe as a fortress disguised as a mansion. It’s massive, looming like a
giant in the middle of nowhere. The sight of it sends a chill down my spine. This is our safe house? It’s like something out of a
goddamn movie.
As we step out, I’m immediately aware of at least a dozen security guys swarming the area. They move with a purpose,
their eyes scanning every inch of the surroundings. It’s like stepping into a military base, not a home.
The mansion itself is intimidating. Huge, with towering walls and windows that reflect the night sky. I can’t help but
wonder what lies behind those walls. Secrets? Danger? Or just more of the lavish lifestyle these Bratva men seem to be used
to?
Ivan’s right beside me. He’s close, so close I can feel the heat radiating off him.
“I can’t believe this is where you guys hang out,” I mutter, my eyes wide as I take in the grandeur of the mansion.
Ivan glances down at me. “Welcome to our humble abode.”
“Humble? This place is freaking huge!” I can’t help but let out a low whistle.
As we walk inside, the grandeur of the mansion strikes me. High ceilings, grand staircases, and opulent decor. It’s like
stepping into a different world, one where luxury and danger go hand in hand. My old apartment could fit into the lobby alone.
“As part of our world, you’ll have more than just a room,” Ivan says, his voice echoing slightly in the vast, ornate
corridors. He stops in front of a set of grand double doors. With a flourish, he opens them, revealing what lies beyond.
I step inside, my eyes widening in disbelief. It’s not just a room; it’s a suite fit for royalty. The space is immense, with
high ceilings adorned with intricate frescoes, and the floor is covered in lush, deep-pile carpets. Every piece of furniture looks
like an antique, the wood polished to a high shine, the fabrics rich and sumptuous.
 I wander toward the windows, which are almost floor-to-ceiling, offering a breathtaking view of the sprawling estate.
“All this, for me?” My voice is barely a whisper, drowned out by the sheer scale and luxury of the room.
Ivan watches me with an unreadable expression. “In our world, we don’t do things by halves. This is your sanctuary, a
place where you can be safe and, more importantly, feel powerful.”
As I turn back to take in the room once more, my eyes catch a glimpse of a marble fireplace, a grand piano in one corner,
and a chandelier that scatters light like diamonds. It’s overwhelming, opulent, and nothing like I’ve ever seen before.
I shake my head, still trying to wrap my mind around all of this. “And I thought the island was fancy.”
We reach my bedroom, and it’s like something out of a magazine. King-size bed, plush carpets, a view of the woods
that’s both beautiful and eerie. I’m in awe.
Ivan stands at the door, his posture relaxed but alert. “You’ll be safe here, Sofia. We’ll make sure of it.”
I nod, not sure what to say. Safe. That word means something different now. In a world where mansions are safe houses
and nights are interrupted by gunfire, safety is a luxury, one that comes with a heavy price.
The other Bratva members enter the room, their presence filling the space. Maxym’s eyes find mine immediately, his
concern evident. “Are you alright?” he asks, and I can’t help but notice a softness in his voice that’s reserved just for me. He’s
kind of cute when he’s worried, not that I’d ever say it out loud.
He glances up and down my body, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “You don’t seem injured anywhere.” I catch his gaze
lingering on my hips, and a little thrill runs through me. He looks like he likes what he sees.
“I, I’m alright,” I reply, trying to sound more confident than I feel. Maxym’s concern is touching, but it also reminds me of
how real the danger is.
Maxym leans back against the wall, his gaze fixed on the narrow window. Ivan’s gaze is distant, his thoughts evidently
troubled. I can’t help but feel a knot in my stomach, wondering if his concern is for me or the precarious situation we’re in.
“Did you find out who was behind the attack?” I ask, my voice betraying a hint of the fear I’m trying to conceal.
Ivan turns to me, his eyes narrowing slightly as if assessing the weight of his words. “It might be a rival Mafia gang.
We’ve been at odds for some time,” his voice trails off, and I can’t help but notice the subtle tension in his posture, a sign of
unspoken threats lurking in the shadows of our conversation.
I cross my arms, an attempt to shield myself from the undercurrents of danger that seem to permeate the room. My gaze
shifts from one man to another, each of them an embodiment of power and unpredictability. “But the only people who knew our
location were you and your men,” I point out, the suspicion in my voice more pronounced than I’d intended.
There’s a palpable shift in the atmosphere. The men exchange glances, their expressions a mix of caution and unease.
Their nervous movements, the shuffling of feet, the clenching and unclenching of fists, betray the high stakes of our
conversation.
Ivan’s eyes flicker with a complexity of emotions before settling into a steely resolve. “Our organization harbors many
secrets, some even unknown to us,” he says, his voice low and steady. As he moves towards a cabinet, his deliberate steps
seem to echo the gravity of his words. “Someone within our ranks must have betrayed us.”
I press my lips together, my mind working overtime. “I think I already know who it could be.”
Their eyes snap to me, a mix of surprise and anticipation in their gazes. Ivan straightens up, his hand pausing in his
search. “Oh? And who could that be?”
Chapter 12
Maxym
I narrow my eyes, processing Sofia’s accusation. “Kayla?” The name rolls off my tongue with disbelief. She’s the least
likely to betray us, or so I’d thought.
Ivan shifts uncomfortably on the bed next to Sofia. His face is a mask of confusion, mirroring my own feelings. Kayla,
with her seemingly sweet disposition, involved in something this treacherous? It’s hard to digest.
Sofia’s voice cuts through the skepticism like a knife. “It’s obviously Kayla. She must have done it out of jealousy.” Her
conviction is unnerving.
The room goes still, each of us grappling with the idea. “No way,” I hear myself say, the words automatic. “Kayla
wouldn’t do that.” But even as I speak, doubt begins to gnaw at me.
Sofia’s eyes flash with frustration. “Yes. Yes, she would. After you guys fired her like that. She would do anything. I saw
it in her eyes.”
Her words linger in the air, heavy with implication. The thought we might have underestimated Kayla, that she could
harbor such resentment, starts to take root.
Victor, usually so composed, finally breaks the silence. “And why do you think she would do such a thing?”
Sofia’s words hang in the air, heavy with implication. “You replaced her. She was the egg donor. And now, it’s me.”
Viktor starts to object, “But she wouldn’t—”
I cut him off, my voice firm. “She’s right. It’s a possibility. It could be her.” The idea that Kayla could act out of spite
isn’t far-fetched. In our world, grudges can lead to drastic actions.
Sofia’s eyes dart around the room, her fear palpable. “What if she comes here?” she whispers, her voice quivering.
Ivan reaches out, his hands gently cupping her face. “You’ll be just fine,” he assures her, “look at all the extra security
we’ve got now. We’re not taking any chances.”
His words seem to calm her a bit, but her body is still tense with worry. Ivan continues, “It’s a low possibility. But even
if it’s her, she’s never been here before. It’s unlikely she’ll ever find us again.”
A faint blush colors Sofia’s cheeks as she glances at Viktor and me, a mix of relief and uncertainty in her eyes. She
mumbles, almost to herself, “O-okay. Now what?”
I watch Sofia closely, gauging her reaction. “Our team is investigating,” I begin, my voice carrying the weight of
authority. “They’ve already got one of the shooters alive, so we need to give him some time.”
She looks up, hope mingling with fear in her eyes. “Does that mean...?”
I nod, my expression hardening. “We’ll get information out of him.” I say it matter-of-factly, leaving no room for doubt
about what that entails.
Sofia nods in understanding, a visible shiver running through her. She knows all too well that ‘getting information’ is a
euphemism for what will undoubtedly be a brutal interrogation.
I watch as she swallows hard, her mind likely imagining the grim scene that will unfold. Despite her fear, she manages to
compose herself after a minute or two.
Ivan’s nod is resolute, a silent affirmation of his readiness to do whatever it takes. Sofia’s distress is evident, and I can’t
just stand by. I close the distance between us, my movements deliberate. I assure her, my hand gently caressing her cheek.
“The men are out there trying to get answers from the shooter, right? So, you just need to stay here,” Ivan adds.
Suddenly, Sofia’s arms wrap around me in a tight embrace. I can feel her body trembling, her emotions spilling over.
Tears well up in her eyes. I wrap my arms around her, offering her the reassurance she so desperately needs.
I stroke the back of her neck gently, trying my best to help her feel better.
Ivan, sensing the heavy atmosphere, steps in with a lighter tone, a slight smile playing on his lips. “Hey, let’s not forget
the good part. We have one of them. That’s a win, right?”
Sofia pulls back slightly, her tears giving way to a faint, appreciative smile. It’s as if Ivan’s words have reminded her
that there’s still hope, that not everything is lost in the darkness.
“Yeah, and who knows, maybe that guy will sing like a bird. We could be having a celebration dinner by tomorrow
night,” Ivan continues, trying to inject a bit of optimism into the situation.
 I chuckle, despite the gravity of the situation. Ivan always had a way of lightening the mood. “Ivan’s right. We’ve been in
tougher spots before. We always come out on top.”
Sofia nods, a spark of resilience flickering in her eyes. “Okay, I’ll try to be optimistic. It’s just hard, you know?”
Standing so close to Sofia, I can feel the tension in her words before she even speaks them. Our faces are mere inches
apart.
Ivan, ever the strategist, breaks the silence with a firm decision. “We’ll stay here for a while, until it is hundred percent
safe to leave the mansion. We must stick together.”
Sofia looks around the room, perhaps seeking a distraction from the heavy atmosphere. Her eyes land on the bookshelf
filled with various titles. Intrigued, she walks over to it, her fingers trailing along the spines of the books.
“You can pick whatever you like,” I say, following her gaze to the shelf.
She pulls out a book, her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really? Romance? You guys read romance?”
Ivan chuckles a little, shaking his head. “No, those are usually only for decoration.”
“Oh...” Sofia’s voice trails off, a hint of disappointment in her tone. Then, shrugging slightly, she adds, “Well, I do need
something to kill time here,” and waggles the book at me.
Lying on the bed, I can’t help but steal glances at Sofia. She’s settled next to me with a book in her hands, looking
absolutely gorgeous. God, how I wish I could just reach out and touch her right now. She’s so close, yet seems so far, wrapped
up in her own little world with that book. She’s just so... perfect.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I notice her biting her lip. Her face turns a shade redder, and it’s clear she’s reacting to
whatever she’s reading.
Curiosity piqued, I lean closer. “What is it?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
Her voice trembles slightly as she replies, “N-nothing.”
But I’m not buying it. She’s probably engrossed in something steamy. The thought amuses me, and I can’t help but
chuckle.
The playful teasing escalates as Ivan snatches the book from Sofia’s grasp. She reaches up to try and retrieve it, but she’s
too short, her efforts just out of reach.
Ivan, with a mischievous glint in his eye, begins to read aloud, his voice deep and teasing. “He tied me to the bed
securely. Making sure I couldn’t escape.”
Sofia’s face flushes a deep shade of red, “No...” she protests weakly, trying to grab the book back, but to no avail.
I can’t help but chuckle at her reaction. It’s rare to see Sofia this shy, this flustered. Ivan, clearly enjoying the moment,
looks at her with a playful smirk. “Is that what you like, princess?” he asks, “Being tied up?”
Sofia stutters, her words barely audible. “I...I...I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says defensively.
Ivan continues to read the passage aloud, his voice deep and sexy as he describes the scene in detail. Sofia’s face is now
bright red, her breathing heavy as she tries to contain her excitement.
“Oh, shut up, you idiot,” she mutters, but there’s a hint of amusement in her voice. “Maybe you should read romance
novels more often. You might learn a thing or two.”
“Well, princess, if you’d prefer to give us a demonstration instead,” Ivan suggests with a sly grin. “We’re always up for
learning something new.”
Ivan’s grin becomes wicked as he hands the book back to her. Sofia quickly hides the book, a sheepish grin on her face.
My heart pounds in my chest, torn between wanting to ease her discomfort and wanting to push the boundaries of this playful
banter.
Ivan leans back with a laugh, clearly enjoying the reaction he has elicited from Sofia. “Just teasing you. We know you’re
not that kinky.”
“You got me all figured out, don’t you?”
Viktor, who must have been listening to our banter, can’t help but chuckle. “Come on, guys, stop messing with her.”
Sofia, determined to prove herself, doesn’t back down. “Ugh. Fine. Let’s do it. I’ll prove it to you that I’m not that
innocent.”
I can’t help but raise an eyebrow in curiosity. “Do what?” I ask, wondering where this is headed. Is she really...
 “Let’s play a game,” Sofia suggests with a wicked grin.
Viktor, sitting on the corner of the room, seems intrigued. “What kind of game?”
“Truth or dare,” Sofia grins mischievously.
Ivan leans forward, his interest piqued. “Alright, let’s play. Who goes first?”
I agree, my curiosity piqued. “I go first,” I declare.
Sofia nods, ready to play along. “Okay, truth.”
I seize the opportunity to tease her, a mischievous smirk playing on my lips. “Tell me, Sofia, what’s your biggest kink?”
I had expected Sofia to blush and deflect the question, but to my surprise, she doesn’t shy away. There’s a moment of
hesitation before she responds, “Alright,” she says, her cheeks tinted a delicate shade of red, “My biggest kink is, um, being
dominated.”
I lean in closer, my voice low and husky. “Is that so?”
I would love to dominate her. To see her all submissive and yearning for my touch. Hands bound and writhing in
pleasure.
Sofia meets my gaze with a smoldering intensity of her own. “Maybe,” she replies, her voice a sultry purr. “But only with
the right person.”
Viktor and Ivan, who had been quiet observers, exchange knowing glances. It’s clear they’re caught up in the intoxicating
energy of the moment as well.
“Your turn, Maxym,” Sofia says, her voice a soft challenge. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
She leans in closer, her breath warm against my ear as she whispers, “I dare you to kiss me.”
Without hesitation, I close the distance between us, capturing her lips in a heated kiss. Sofia responds eagerly, her hands
finding their way to my chest, her fingers gripping my shirt as she deepens the kiss.
I don’t want to pull back, the contact igniting something deep within me. I smile into the kiss, a small gesture of
reassurance, before slowly pulling away. My fingers linger on her cheek, tracing the line of her jaw.
Before I can process the moment, Ivan starts talking. Ivan’s turn follows, and he locks eyes with Sofia, his voice a low,
seductive murmur. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare.” Sofia bites her lips.
Ivan’s own grin widens, and he leans in closer, his breath grazing her ear as he whispers, “I dare you to kiss me.”
Without hesitation, Sofia moves closer to Ivan, her lips meeting his with the same hunger she had shown with me.
I’m left in a state of uncertainty, watching them. She’s so damn alluring, it’s hard to think straight. Ivan, ever the
passionate one, responds with more eagerness. He wraps his arms around her, his grip firm, a clear display of his desire.
They’re locked in this embrace, and I can’t help but feel a surge of something. Jealousy? Possession? It’s hard to pinpoint.
Sofia, emboldened by the daring nature of our game, takes her turn. She turns to Viktor with a playful glint in her eye.
“Truth or dare, Viktor?” she asks, her voice sultry and teasing.
Viktor hesitates for a moment, “I’m not sure if the rules work that way.”
But Sofia’s insistence prevails, and he finally relents. “Fine, truth,” he says.
Sofia smirks, her question carrying a hint of intrigue. “Viktor,” she begins, her tone suggestive, “have you ever had a
foursome?”
After a brief pause, he answers honestly, “No.”
Sofia’s response is filled with playful determination. She leans in closer, her gaze unwavering. “Hmm, interesting,” she
drawls, “Well, then, I dare you to try one.”
Viktor, clearly taken aback by her dare, hesitates for a moment. His brows furrow, and he searches her eyes for any sign
of hesitation. “What? Are you sure about this?”
Without missing a beat, Sofia grabs him by the tie, a bold, assertive gesture that seems to catch him off guard. She’s
leading now, taking control of the situation in a way that’s both surprising and enthralling.
She pulls him towards the bed, and with a swift movement, she throws him down right between Ivan and me. Viktor
lands with a thud, his usual composure momentarily lost in the unexpected turn of events.
 I exchange a quick, puzzled glance with Ivan. This isn’t the Sofia we knew before, the one caught in the midst of our
dangerous world. This is someone different, someone taking charge, dictating her terms.
“Yes. Yes, I’m sure.”
Chapter 13
Sofia
This thrill. This feeling I can’t quite name, it’s coursing through me, igniting something wild and untamed. It’s turning me
on. With a boldness I didn’t know I possessed, I make my way up to Viktor’s lap. Maxym and Ivan are watching us, their eyes a
mix of surprise and something darker, more primal.
I lean in and kiss Viktor. His lips are hesitant at first, but then he responds with a passion that matches my own.
God, I want them all.
With a mischievous smile, I turn my attention to Maxym. Slowly, I make my way towards him, my movements deliberate
and seductive. His eyes follow my every step, his breathing growing heavier.
I can’t resist the pull towards Maxym. My body feels alive with anticipation as I straddle him, my legs on either side of
his muscular thighs. He reaches up to cup my breasts through my thin shirt, his rough hands causing goosebumps to form on my
skin. I moan softly at the contact, arching into his touch.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against my neck, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. His other
hand moves down to caress my stomach before slipping lower between my legs. He growls in approval when he feels how wet
I am for him already.
Viktor reaches to kiss my neck from behind as he takes my shirt off. His rough hands send shivers down my spine, making
me moan softly in response.
His other hand moves lower, caressing my stomach before slipping between my legs. I gasp as he touches me there,
arching into his hand instinctively.
His fingers brush against my clit, making me gasp and push into his touch. “You like being dominated huh?” he whispers
in my ear.
I swear my heart is about to jump out of my chest. I moan softly, unable to form words as his hand continues to tease me.
He slides one finger inside me, filling me up and causing me to whimper with pleasure.
Maxym is under me. Grinding his hard cock against my thigh, making me writhe with desire. I inhale sharp breaths as his
fingers continue to explore me, seeking out the most sensitive spots.
Viktor’s fingers find their way to my other hand, pulling it down to his erection, pressing me against it. I can feel his
desire for me, the heat coming from him.
Viktor pulls me in for a passionate kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth as his hand is resting on my neck. “You want all
of us, don’t you?” he whispers, nibbling on my bottom lip. I nod, unable to deny the truth of his words. I want them all to claim
me, to take me to new heights of pleasure.
“Say it,” Viktor demands, his voice deep and low.
“I want you all,” I whisper, feeling dizzy with desire. My head spins from the sensations overwhelming me.
My heart is pounding, my mind clouded by the steamy room and the intoxicating mix of arousal and fear. Viktor, knowing
what I need, begins to tease my nipples with his mouth, sucking and biting gently.
I turn to face Ivan behind me, all while grinding back and forth on Maxym’s hard cock.
I kiss Ivan, our lips meeting in a scorching hot kiss that sends chills down my spine. His tongue darts out to explore my
mouth.
Their hands never stopping their exploration. They are touching all over me.
And I want more of it.
“Please,” I breathe, my voice hoarse.
Ivan and Maxym exchange a glance before they synchronize their movements, lifting me up so that they can remove my
panties.
My body is revealed to them, on full display. And God, do I feel powerful and vulnerable at the same time.
My breath hitches as their lips brush against my sensitive skin.
I grind back against them, meeting their soft moans with my own as Maxym’s cock enters me slowly.
Every inch of him filling and stretching me. It feels so good.
Viktor’s hand moves to my clit, stroking it as he continues to kiss my neck and suck on my breasts.
 Ivan kisses me deeply as he removes his pants. I can’t think straight, can barely process what’s happening.
I keep riding Maxym hard and fast. I need him to finish quick so I can have the others inside me. The bed is squeaking
with our movements, the sound absorbed by the lush carpet.
Maxym groans, his hips moving in time with mine. His hands grip my waist holding on tightly, as if he never wants to let
go. I moan as waves of pleasure crash over me. My mind emptying of all thoughts but the sensations flooding my body.
Every touch is electric, every moment intense.
“God... You’re so tight, Sofia... I’m gonna—” Maxym groans. He’s close.
“Do it, come inside me.” Heat pools in my core as I arch my back towards him, meeting his thrusts with equal force. I
can feel him getting closer too; the tension in his muscles tells me he’s about to explode. And then he does, his hot seed filling
me up as he cries out in ecstasy. I moan loudly in response, my own orgasm washing over me in a wave of pure bliss.
As we catch our breath, Maxym rolls off me onto his back, panting heavily.
That’s when Ivan gets on top of me. His length teasing my entrance. My walls clench around as he enters me, filling the
still sensitive space left by Maxym.
He groans deeply, moving his hips in a slow rhythm that matches Viktor’s hand on my clit. It feels amazing. I can’t
believe I’m doing this, taking on three men, yet here I am, enjoying it more than I could’ve ever imagined.
I gasp as Ivan finds his rhythm, his teeth grazing my neck to soothe the sting of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm me.
As Ivan picks up speed, Viktor’s fingers find my clit again and start rubbing it gently, sending shockwaves of pleasure
through me. I cry out, my body tingling with need.
They are both moving faster now, our bodies slamming together in perfect syncopation. The bed squeaks louder than ever
under our frantic movements.
“Oh god,” I gasp as they take me over the edge once more.
Ivan and I come at the same time. My walls clenching around him, pulling him deeper inside as I scream his name.
It’s Viktor’s turn. He turns me over and gets me on all fours in a doggy position. He pushes my head down. I feel his
hands on my hips, guiding me. “Take me,” he growls.
And I do. I take him in me, feeling him stretch me once more as he thrusts in and out of me.
“Fuck!” he groans, slamming into me hard. It’s intense, but in the best possible way.
He takes over my senses. His hips pounding against mine, our moans mixing in the air.
Viktor’s hands grip my hair tightly, tugging just enough to make it hurt but also feel good at the same time.
His intense gaze makes my knees weak and my pussy tingle even more. “You are mine now,” he growls, pushing deeper
inside me.
He takes control of the situation completely, our bodies moving in perfect sync as if we’ve been doing this forever. His
rough hands roam freely over my body, leaving trails of fire wherever they touch. He slaps my ass cheek hard enough to sting
but also makes it throb with pleasure.
The more he slams into me, the louder our moans become until they melt into one another’s mouths in a hot and
passionate kiss that leaves us both breathless. The room spins around us as we lose ourselves in this moment of raw
animalistic passion.
It feels so good I start grinding against him, meeting his thrusts with equal force. As we approach our climaxes together,
Viktor picks up the pace even more, slamming into me harder than ever before until finally I feel his release deep inside me.
He moans my name as we both collapse onto the bed, breathing heavily. My heart still races with the intensity of our
intimate connection.
Viktor, who has caught his breath, breaks the silence with a question. “So, are we done with the game?”
I take a moment to collect my thoughts before responding, “Y-yes, I guess we are for now.”
We begin to dress, and Maxym, noticing the change in my demeanor, raises an eyebrow, his gaze focused on me. “What’s
gotten into you?” he enquires, his curiosity evident.
With a sultry whisper, I confess, “I thought the faster I’m pregnant, the faster this will be over with.”
Maxym chuckles, his tone teasing. “Well, princess, you’re certainly taking matters into your own hands, aren’t you?”
I give him a smirk in response, my confidence growing with each passing moment. “I’m just practical, that’s all,” I quip.
 Maxym’s chuckle reverberates through the room, a sound that’s both amused and appreciative. “Practical, huh? I like that
in a woman.”
Ivan, still adjusting his shirt, gives me a look that’s hard to read. “Well, that was unexpected. But I can’t say I’m
complaining.”
Viktor, who’s been quieter than usual, finally speaks up. “We should probably focus on what’s next. This was a
diversion, but we’ve got real issues to deal with.”
I nod, feeling a flush on my cheeks. “Right, of course. The attack, the rival gang, there’s a lot at stake.”
Ivan moves closer, his presence comforting. “Don’t worry. We’ll handle it. We always do.”
Maxym’s eyes are still on me, a playful glint in them. “You’re full of surprises, Sofia.”
I can’t help but smile back, feeling a sense of camaraderie with these men, despite the bizarre circumstances. “Well, you
haven’t seen anything yet.”
Then Maxym’s phone rings. His calm face suddenly changes, now it’s like he’s a different person. He’s all tense, his eyes
sharp and focused. Makes me wonder if they got some info from that guy they caught.
“I gotta go,” he says abruptly, his voice firm. “You should probably all go and eat something.”
He exchanges this look with Ivan. It’s weird, like they’re having a whole conversation without words. Here I am, feeling
like a total outsider, clueless about what’s going on.
The air is thick with unspoken tension. I watch Maxym stride out, his steps quick and decisive. Ivan follows him with his
eyes, a silent understanding passing between them.
I’m left lying there, a million questions buzzing in my head. What did that call mean? What are they planning? I feel a
knot of anxiety in my stomach, growing tighter with each passing second.
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 This statement would certainly indicate a liberal attitude towards
education. Fox himself makes no further comment on what the
nature of the school was to be. His interest in these schools, it is
asserted, never flagged, and many visits were made in behalf of their
prosperity.[32]
Fourth, the popular idea that has at times [Sidenote: But
prevailed, that Quakers objected to giving an classical
education such as was enjoyed by other sects, was education not the
first essential for
probably founded on a misunderstanding of certain ministers]
statements made by Fox with regard to education.
Let us examine some of these statements, and seek to learn his
intended meaning.

I saw that to be a true believer was another thing than they

looked on it to be; and I saw that being bred at Oxford or
Cambridge did not qualify or fit a man to be a minister of
Christ; what then should I follow such for? So neither these,
nor any of the dissenting peoples could I join with, but was a
stranger to all, relying wholly upon the Lord Jesus Christ.[33]
I was to bring people off from Jewish ceremonies and from
heathenish fables, and from men’s inventions and worldly
doctrines, by which they blew the people about this way and
the other way, from sect to sect; and from all their beggarly
rudiments, with their schools and colleges for making
ministers of Christ, who are indeed ministers of their own
making but not of Christ; ...[34]
They could not know the spiritual meaning of Moses; the
prophets and John’s words, nor see their paths and travels,
much less see through them, and to the end of them into the
kingdom, unless they had the spirit of Jesus; nor could they
know the words of Christ and of his apostles without his Spirit.
[35]

Then we came to Durham, where was a man come from

London to set up a college there, to make ministers of Christ,
 as they said. I went, with some others, to reason with him and
to let him see that to teach men Hebrew, Greek and Latin,
and the seven arts, which were all but the teachings of the
natural man, was not the way to make them ministers of
Christ.[36]

These statements represent a small selection from many similar

ones, and may be fairly taken as indicative of his position concerning
this one point. They are the most drastic prohibitory statements
made on the subject in all of his works. But even here we fail to find
either (1) a condemnation of general or ordinary education or (2) a
wholesale condemnation of classical education; indeed we read no
objection to a minister’s possessing a knowledge of classical
authors, such as was the case of both Penn and Barclay, provided
he possess also the “light.” His statements may be summarized as
follows:
[Sidenote:
1. Classical training is inadequate as a Summary of
preparation for ministers of the gospel. educational
statements]
2. Divine guidance is the one requisite for
their preparation.
3. There is no objection to the classical learning if it be
added to the qualification under (2).

Fifth, their conception of the scope of education [Sidenote:

did not limit it to their own people alone, but Education not
extended it rather to all peoples, Negroes and limited to Friends]
Indians, the rich and the poor. This is made
perfectly plain in his address sent to the Governor of the Barbados in
1671.

Consider, Friends, it is no transgression for a master of a

family to instruct his family himself, or for some others to do it
in his behalf; but rather it is a very great duty incumbent upon
them.... We declare that we esteem it a duty incumbent on us
 to pray with and for those in and belonging to our families; ...
and to teach, instruct and admonish them; ... now Negroes,
Tawnies and Indians make up a very great part of the families
in this island; for whom an account will be required by him
who comes to judge both quick and dead, at the great day of
judgment, when every one shall be rewarded according to the
deeds done in the body, whether they be good or whether
they be evil.[37]

The effect of the above statements must tend to convince even the
skeptical that any statement or belief, to the effect that the founder of
Quakerism was opposed to education, is chiefly a myth based on
either ignorance or gross misunderstanding.

SUMMARY
The origin of the Quakers and the organization and discipline of
the Society are due almost entirely to the influence which first came
from the founder, George Fox. He extended his belief in his native
country and even into foreign countries by (1) preaching, (2) letters,
(3) extensive travels on his own part, and (4) through the agency of
many capable men whom he attracted to his service. For this service
the leading of the inner light was deemed the only preparation which
was absolutely necessary. The society experienced a rapid growth in
numbers and, due to the policy of its founder, laid great stress on the
moral and practical education of their youth. A great similarity existed
between the beliefs of Quakers and those of the Mennonites, both of
which came to form a large part of the population of the colony of
Pennsylvania. The Mennonite beliefs are thought, by some special
students of their history, to have been the determining influence in
forming those of Friends; but this is not clearly proven. It is pointed
out, by certain references to utterances of George Fox, which to a
great extent formed the basis for Quaker practices, that the common
belief in their objection to education is erroneous. The system of
moral education was exacting and full of sweeping prohibitions, and,
in those respects, according to modern ideals, quite inadequate.
 CHAPTER II
MEETING ORGANIZATION: ITS CONNECTION
WITH EDUCATION

The organization of meetings in the Society of [Sidenote: An

Friends was based almost entirely on the organization
recommendation of its founder, and still obtains developed]
without many variations from the type which was
thus early begun. The organization thus planned was not developed
completely at one time, but depended rather on the growth of the
society in this or that section of the country. Meetings, as at first
established, were not so specialized in their functions as they came
to be later; there were those for worship and sufferings, the latter
becoming in due time a specialized part of the yearly meeting, and
for taking action in regard to poor members. The time was further
occupied in disciplining those members who were not faithful to the
doctrines of the church.
It is of particular importance for us to understand [Sidenote: The
the ordinary arrangement of the meetings and their place of
relation to each other, since it was by virtue of this organization in
the establishment
organization of the church that its schools were set of schools]
up. Perhaps no other factor played so important a
part in the success which was met with in setting up schools, as that
through the organization of the meetings all localities were kept in
closer touch with each other than would otherwise have been
possible at that time. As it was, the local meetings were literally
forced to listen to the school-proposition, even though they were in
the backwoods of America, or inhabited the Barbados. The chief
means of communication established were church letters, travelling
ministers, representatives from the constituent meetings, and reports
of general meetings which were distributed to all those belonging
thereunto.[38]
Originally the purpose of the church organization [Sidenote:
seems to have been twofold. It was realized that Purposes of the
among those who became members some would organization]
be less constant in their behavior than others;
hence some sort of oversight was necessary to keep each and every
one in line. In the second place, there were many adherents in
limited circumstances and the Quakers’ belief made it imperative that
these people be taken care of in the best manner possible.[39]
Realizing the existence of these conditions among members, it was
clear to Fox that a definitely organized meeting was necessary
whereby (1) the necessary assistance could be extended to those in
need, (2) discipline could be enforced for the maintenance of the
religious life of the organization, and (3) new meetings could be
officially established when and where they became necessary.
The earliest mention that is made of a meeting [Sidenote: Early
established for these purposes is in the case of meetings
established]
Balby, in Yorkshire, in 1658.[40] This statement is
not exactly accurate, it seems, for we have also mention made of a
general meeting, or what came to be known as a yearly meeting, as
early as 1654 when one was held at Swannington in Leicestershire.
[41] The meeting at Balby seems to have been of considerable
importance and is frequently mentioned as one of the stopping
places of George Fox. He recounts a meeting held at that place in
1660 “in a great orchard of John Killam’s where it was supposed
some thousands of people and Friends were gathered together.”[42]
The business of the yearly meeting seems to have been to devote
some time to the affairs of the church; at any rate, this idea is
expressed by Fox in writing of a similar meeting held at Skipton in
1660.[43] The characteristic of these meetings, that is always
mentioned, is that they were attended by representatives from
various towns and counties. The yearly meeting is still a
representative body.
 The smaller meetings for worship were, of [Sidenote:
course, the first established. Aside from the Meetings develop
question of worship, however, the development of from larger to the
smaller]
the organization was from the larger unit to the
smaller. We have noted above the beginning of the general or yearly
meeting. As the sect grew in numbers, and the labor of caring for
these, sometimes in a physical sense and again in the religious,
increased, it became necessary to have a finer organization, the
smaller units of which would reach the smallest communities. By
1665 there were established (1) the yearly and (2) the quarterly
meetings, and in 1666 Fox recommended the establishment of a
smaller unit, the monthly meeting, saying:

Then I was moved of the Lord to recommend the setting up

of five monthly meetings of men and women in the City of
London (besides the women’s meetings and the quarterly
meetings) to take care of God’s glory, and to admonish and
exhort such as walked disorderly or carelessly, and not
according to the truth. For whereas Friends had had only
quarterly meetings, now truth was spread, and Friends were
grown more numerous, I was moved to recommend the
setting up of monthly meetings throughout the nation. And the
Lord opened to me what I must do, and how the men’s and
the women’s monthly and quarterly meetings should be
ordered and established in this and other nations; and that I
should write to those where I did not come, to do the same.
[44]

Immediately after this, there is mentioned the [Sidenote:

establishment of monthly meetings in Essex, Number of
Suffolk and Norfolk, Huntingdonshire, monthly meetings
set up]
Nottinghamshire, Leicestershire and Warwickshire
and many others.[45] Three years later (1669) he reports fourteen
monthly meetings in the county of York.[46] The rapid increase in the
number of meetings and the extent of territory covered by them is a
fair indication of the phenomenal growth of the society.
 Following his resolve and subsequent exertions toward setting up
of monthly meetings, during which he made very extensive
campaigns, there came the great step which was taken to organize
all under the general leadership of a yearly meeting, that of London.
This was accomplished in 1672.[47] This general meeting of
ministers drew up a resolution or minute to this effect:
[Sidenote: London
It is concluded agreed and assented to by Yearly Meeting
Friends present that for the better ordering, established]
managing and regulating of the public affairs of
Friends relating to the Truth and the service thereof, there be
a general meeting of Friends held at London once a year, in
the week called Whitsun-week, to consist of six Friends for
the City of London, three for the city of Bristol, two for the city
of Colchester and one or two from each of the counties of
England and Wales respectively.[48]

The meeting convened in the year following, in accordance with

the above resolution. Many of the duties performed by the General
Meeting of Ministers were transferred to the representatives of the
various meetings. The ministers, though in fact subject to the
approval or disapproval of monthly meetings, did not relinquish their
oversight of each other.
The smallest unit in the organization was the [Sidenote: The
particular or preparative meeting. This meeting is preparative
not mentioned in all localities, though it is clear meeting the
smallest unit]
from Fox’s statements that he recognized this as a
part of the organization, for in a letter of 1669 he writes concerning
the representatives of the quarterly meetings that,

none that are raw or weak and are not able to give a
testimony of the affairs of the church and Truth, may go on
behalf of the particular meetings to the quarterly meetings, but
may be nursed up in your monthly meetings.[49]
 This statement is given here merely for the [Sidenote: Details
purpose of pointing out how completely the ideas of of organization
Fox were embodied in even the smallest unit of worked Fox]
out by
church organization. There is adequate proof of
their existence in all sections occupied by the Quakers in
Pennsylvania, and of their great importance in carrying out the
details both of relief work for the poor, and in the establishment of
schools.[50]
There have been noted different phases of the development of the
meeting organization. When finally it was complete in all its parts,
there existed a hierarchy of meetings, the lower and smaller units of
which were subject to and under the direction of the higher. This
resultant organization may be made somewhat clearer by means of
a diagrammatical representation.

The above diagram represents the relation of the [Sidenote:

Functions of
various kinds of meetings in the organization of the yearly meeting]
Society of Friends. The yearly meeting (Fig. 1, Y) is
the general head of the entire organization. Its functions are of a
general directive nature and its influence of very wide extent. For
example, it will be shown a little later that the Yearly Meeting of
London issued, very early, certain communications concerning
education which were sent to each meeting belonging to the London
Yearly Meeting. In the same manner it exercised its influence along
other lines than education. There is no special virtue in the number
of meetings represented above; for example, the three Q’s do not
mean that each and every yearly meeting had three quarterly
meetings under its care. The number is not specified. In the case of
the Philadelphia Yearly Meeting there are at present nine quarterly
meetings and two half-yearly meetings.[51] The same variation is
also true in the number of monthly meetings in a quarter, Caln
Quarterly having only one monthly meeting, while Western Quarterly
has six.[52] The same is true as to the number of preparative
meetings.
The quarterly meeting is representative of the [Sidenote:
monthly meetings which comprise it. Its functions Functions of the
are chiefly directive and advisory, though it may quarterly meeting]
often occur that a bad case of discipline may be
turned over to it by the monthly meeting. In the case of school
regulations, its chief concern was to pass on the recommendations
of the yearly meeting to the monthly meetings and to repeat them
frequently, that the lower meetings might be stirred up to action.[53] It
was also through the quarterly meetings that the reports on the
conditions of schools in the monthly meetings were collected and
sent to the yearly meeting. It was also quite customary for the
monthly units to pass any of their decisions on a matter up to the
quarterly unit for its formal approval or disapproval. Especially is this
marked in educational affairs, and particularly in the Philadelphia
Quarter.[54] This is most marked in the earliest years after
establishment, and is due, no doubt, to a lack at that time of a very
close differentiation in the functions of the meetings.
The monthly meetings are primarily the business [Sidenote:
units of the organization. Before them come all Monthly meeting
cases of care for the poor, apprenticing of children, the business unit]
enforcement of discipline, establishment of
schools, requests for permission to marry, to remove to a new
location and still many others. They may settle some of these finally,
or they may act in connection with their superior meeting as
mentioned above.
The preparative meeting is the smallest [Sidenote:
organization unit and has its finger on the pulse of Function of the
preparative
the local community at all times.[55] Officially it acts meeting]
as the agent of the monthly meeting in carrying out
the details of any piece of work that must be done, and which the
monthly meeting is willing to delegate thus far.[56] Thus in the case of
Horsham, for instance, the business of the schools in the scope of
the preparative meeting is turned over to it and their organization
and maintenance are under the care of its school committee.[57] The
preparative meeting is at all times cognizant of breaches of discipline
among its members and responsible to report such to the monthly
meeting for settlement. One might go to great length to enumerate
and explain all the detailed duties of each of these branches of the
organization, but it is believed sufficient has been said of them, to
make their action in educational matters intelligible.
We have noted, somewhat briefly to be sure, the organization and
interrelation of the meetings in the Society of Friends. It is now
necessary to point out what connection existed between this
organization and the program put forward for the establishment of
schools. This will be done by the presentation of certain extracts
from meeting records which seem in all cases to have been
responsible for kindling an interest in education in near and distant
meetings, and keeping that interest alive by virtue of many advices
until some material results were forthcoming. The selections
presented are not continuous; they are chosen because they are
representative and illustrative of the point in question.
The Yearly Meeting of London was established [Sidenote:
(see page 17) in 1672. Consistent with the purpose Attention of yearly
of its establishment, as then stated, it began at meeting to
education in
once to busy itself with certain important problems 1690]
of the church. Among the first that received a
considerable amount of attention was the education of the youths of
members in the society, which was, of course, soon extended to
include others. For instance, in 1690, there is given out this
educational advice.

And, dear Friends, it is our Christian and earnest advice

and counsel to all Friends concerned (so far as they are able
or may be capable) to provide schoolmasters and mistresses
who are faithful Friends, to teach and instruct their children,
and not to send them to such schools where they are taught
the corrupt ways, manners and fashions of the world and of
the Heathen in their authors and manners of the heathenish
gods and goddesses....[58]

And again in the year following we find the following advice:

[Sidenote: 1691]
We are glad to hear that care is taken in
some places, according to former advices, for the providing of
schoolmasters and mistresses who are faithful Friends to
instruct Friends’ children in such method as Truth allows. And
we desire that Friends may go on in the care to provide such
education and schools, for the advantage of their children and
posterity.[59]

More specific instructions follow in 1695.

[Sidenote: 1695]
And it is desired ... to take special care for the
good education and order of Friends’ children in God’s holy
fear, ... and also to see that schools and schoolmasters who
are faithful Friends, and well qualified, be placed and
encouraged in all counties, cities and great towns, or places
where they may be needed; and that such schoolmasters, as
much as may be, sometimes correspond with one another for
their help and improvement in such good and easy methods
as are agreeable to the Truth and the children’s advantage
 and benefit; and that care be taken that poor Friends’ children
may freely partake of such education, in order to
apprenticeship.[60]

At a much later date, 1745, very similar instructions are found

among those issued.
[Sidenote: and
And, dear Friends, though frequently and 1745]
repeated advices have been given from this
meeting, respective of the education of our youth in sobriety,
godliness and Christian virtues; yet, this being a matter of
very great moment for the welfare of the present and future
generations, we think it our incumbent duty again to
recommend an especial care therein.... We also recommend
to schoolmasters and mistresses, to educate the children
committed to their charge, in the frequent reading of those
sacred writings and such other good books as tend to their
instruction in true Christianity; whereby their minds are in
danger of being corrupted and led aside from the way of truth
and holiness.[61]

A casual reading of the above statements, or any of numerous

others like them, will suffice to point out to what great extent they are
similar to the statements of Fox and other Quakers who were
interested in education.[62] For convenience, the content of these
extracts from the yearly meeting minutes may be summarized in
something like the following:

1. To educate morally, according to Friends’ standards.

2. To train the individual in some practical employment.

They are accompanied by: [Sidenote: A

summary of
important points
1. Select schools. in the extracts]
 2. Teachers of approved morality.
3. Selected subject matter.
4. Apprenticeship training.
5. Schools to be in all communities, the stronger assisting
the weaker.[63]

The influence of these fundamental ideas about [Sidenote:

education is clearly reflected in the type of schools Exemplified in
that were first set up in England. Those schools set up]
recommended by Fox at Waltham and Shacklewell
in 1667, for both boys and girls, represent the first attempt.[64] At a
later date, 1702, Clerkenwell was established under the oversight of
London and Middlesex Quarterly Meetings, and in the latter part of
the century the Ackworth School, founded by John Fothergill in 1779.
[65] In all the schools established, of which those mentioned are
representative, there is always found this primary emphasis on moral
and useful training.[66]
The great influence of English Quaker education [Sidenote:
on that in America was made secure by virtue of Influence exerted
the very intimate relation between the meetings in by means of
ministers, epistles
both countries; this relation being constantly and tracts]
maintained through the traveling ministers, and
tracts and epistles sent out by the yearly meetings. The same
alertness, characteristic of London Yearly Meeting in these affairs,
was likewise assumed by the Burlington and Philadelphia Meetings,
from whence came numerous advices. As concrete evidence of this
close relation existing, and the consequent communications, a few
extracts thereof are inserted.

There was brought to this meeting (Middletown Monthly)

the last London printed epistle, which was read, containing
sundry weighty advices and exhortations with some
comfortable account of the prosperity of the Truth in divers
places, as also the extracts of our last yearly meeting
 (Philadelphia) wherein is recommended amongst other things,
a half collection for the next year, and some proposals
concerning the settling of schools in the country....[67]

That these letters of advice were not mere formalities but were
really seriously considered and acted upon favorably or unfavorably,
as in the first case below, is shown adequately in the following:

This meeting taking into consideration the proposals of last

yearly meeting concerning the settling of schools in the
country, are of the opinion that the method proposed will not
answer for the Friends who live remote from each other in the
country....[68]

In the case of Darby Monthly Meeting, later in the [Sidenote: Had

century, there is an instance in which the definite results]
recommendations of the yearly meeting (1778) are
followed most minutely in the reorganization.

In consideration of improving our school, agreeable to the

recommendations of the last Yearly Meeting in 1778, and
subsequent advices down to this time having been spread in
this meeting and so and several remarks made thereon,
pointing out the advantages which may arise therefrom to the
present rising and succeeding ages, and the loss sustained
for the want thereof, tending to animate a desire to pursue the
interesting prospect. It is therefore now agreed that in future
five Friends be appointed and called the overseers of the
Darby School, three of whom shall be deemed a sufficient
number to transact any business within their appointment,
viz.: to have the oversight of and visit the school, examine the
progress the scholars make in their learning, remark thereon
as appears to them necessary; inspect the teachers’ conduct,
and from time to time as occasion may be, with the
approbation of the meeting, agree with and employ a teacher
or teachers, and on sufficient cause appearing, discharge any
 such teacher or teachers, as also any unruly scholars who
cannot be brought to submission to the rules and orders of
the school; hear and determine upon all differences relative to
the school which may arise between any teacher and
employer, take into consideration and endeavor out after
some eligible plan for raising a fund for the benefit of the
school and as way shall open for it, pursue the same
accordingly, and every matter and thing tending to promote a
settlement for a school agreeable to the recommendations
before cited; and as some of our deceased brothers have
made donations to this meeting for the benevolent purpose of
schooling children of the poor, therefore, the aforesaid
overseers are hereby empowered and directed to receive and
collect from the trustees thereof for the time being, the
interest arising from the said donations, dispose thereof
agreeable to the intentions of the Donors, and when
necessary, advise and assist the trustees in taking better
securities for the principal, and as future donations may be
made for the benefit of the school, the overseers are directed
to extend care therein, as the same shall become necessary,
and keep fair minutes of all moneys received and expended
and other matters of importance which come before them, to
be produced in this meeting when called for, and preceding
the quarterly meeting in the 8th month annually make to this
meeting a clear statement of the amount received, expended
and remaining in hand and outstanding and of the capital
under their care; what donations made within the year past
and for what purposes; and of such other matters as they may
judge needful to enable this meeting to transmit the true
estate of the school to the Quarterly Meeting, and as a
fundamental of their proceedings they transcribe a copy of
their minutes, together with such other writings as are
necessary for their government in what is now constituted
their cares.[69]

A committee was accordingly appointed and directed to choose

their officers, that their business might be begun at once and
properly performed.
In addition to the advices sent out in the form of [Sidenote: Works
letters from the yearly sessions, the meeting also of Penn, Barclay,
furthered regularly the distribution of books, tracts Sewell, Turford,
and others
and pamphlets, usually the expression of distributed]
prominent Friends, such as, for example, Penn’s
Advice to His Children, Barclay’s Apology, Sewell’s History of
Quakers, Barclay’s Catechism, Turford’s Grounds of a Holy Life, and
many others of similar nature. Works of this kind were frequently
sent over in lots, sometimes for free distribution, or to be sold to
members; as witness the following:

Joseph Kirkbride and Walter Faucit, having been lately in

London upon the service of Truth, did subscribe for 100 of
Barclay’s Apologies on behalf of this yearly meeting, which
the said meeting approves of; and agreed that Samuel
Carpenter pay for them out of the yearly meeting stock and
distribute them to each meeting according to their proportion
of books that they usually receive, that so they may be given
away by the several meetings for the service of truth.[70]
Sam Nixon informs the meeting that he brought from last
quarterly meeting ten small books, entitled Reflections and
Maxims, wrote by William Penn and printed for the use of
schools, which he desired us to take the care of and to apply
to the use intended as occasion may require.[71]
Produced at this meeting, 6 Barclay’s Apologies, 12
Richard Davis’ Journals, 7 Daniel Stanton’s Journals, 4 Hugh
Turford’s Grounds of a Holy Life, 8 Barclay’s Catechisms; 37
books under care of Thos. Pickering, Thos. Watson, and
Robert Kirkbride—to lend to the poor or others, as they think
useful.[72]

The foregoing presentation of conditions within the church

organization, their method of interaction, has been made so that the
reader may understand that whatever activities may be later noted
among the Quakers in Pennsylvania in connection with the
establishment of schools, were intimately connected with and were
in fact the result of the English influence.

SUMMARY
The form of organization of the meeting in the Society of Friends
was due to the needs then existing, and was planned, even to the
smallest unit, by the founder of the society. The chief purposes of the
organization, when first begun, were (1) moral and religious
discipline of members, (2) assistance to the poor among their
number, and (3) to protect themselves against the oppression of
outsiders (function of the meeting on sufferings). The functions of the
higher meeting (yearly) were chiefly advisory in character, while
those of the lower meetings (preparative) were to work out the
details. Educationally, the yearly meeting exercised an influence very
early by its frequent recommendations and the literature sent to the
smaller individual meetings. This rôle was likewise assumed by the
Burlington and Philadelphia Yearly Meeting.[73] This close
relationship between the meetings of different order and the
educational influence is in part shown by extracts taken from the
meeting records.
 CHAPTER III
EDUCATIONAL IDEALS OF QUAKER LEADERS

Any institution one may name has its adverse [Sidenote:

critics. The basis of their criticism is often ill- Criticism
inevitable;
defined; it is sometimes fact, sometimes beneficial]
imagination; it may spring from a knowledge of
truth, or possibly from ignorance.
Quakerism has had many critics and the effect of [Sidenote: Some
wise criticism may be seen in some of the changes criticism based on
from the old to the modern Quakerism. Much of misunderstanding
]
that which was unjust and without foundation of
fact, failed to have any effect whatever. But though [Sidenote: Certain
the effect on the institution may have been nil, it doctrines]
occurs in some cases that the criticism still lives in
the popular mind and is accorded a good degree of authenticity. By
those better informed it may not be so considered. It is with one of
these criticisms, concerning the attitude of Quakers toward
education, that we are chiefly concerned in this chapter. Due chiefly
to a misinterpretation of the doctrine of inner light and its application,
which was mentioned in the first chapter, there arose an erroneous
conception of the Quakers’ attitude towards education. This
conception is not always constant; it varies now to this side, now to
that, but does not cease to persist. In order that this criticism may be
put as clearly as possible before the reader, use is made here of a
quotation from the works of S. H. Cox, at one time a member of
Friends, who expresses with clearness the opinion of a very
considerable group of critics.
[Sidenote: The
But there is one feature of the system of criticism offered
Friends which deserves a recognition here—its by S. H. Cox]
inimical regard to classical and scientific
learning. I do not say that all Friends are thus hostile, or that
they are all alike hostile to liberal learning but I charge this
hostility on the system. That such is its character, appears
from the denunciation, the indiscriminate proscription of
Barclay, and that not in a few places in his book. It appears in
the general hostility of Friends to all colleges and seminaries
where the elevated branches are thoroughly taught. Not one
young Friend out of five hundred, even in this free country,
ever obtains a liberal education in fact or in name; certainly
never becomes graduated in the arts at any chartered
institution, and where an instance occurs, it is always
attended with special difficulties. They have no college of
liberal science in the world! Some, I know, of the suspected
worldly sort in Philadelphia have proposed and would have
forwarded so excellent an object, but they were always awed
into despondency by the unlettered, all-knowing light within.
And in this, their obsequiousness was quite consistent, for if
schools, academies, and universities are all in their nature
wrong, and as such forbidden of God, it is certainly right to
desist totally and at once from the prosecution of their cause!
Incidental evils they will always include, but the system is not
chargeable with these, unless in its nature it approves and
fosters them. There will always be, perhaps, hypocrites at the
communion table but christianity does not make them, and
the purest ministry of the gospel will often become a savor of
death unto death, but sinners themselves and not such a
ministry are to blame for the consequence. And so the best
organized system of intellectual education that the world has
seen has often presented the appalling spectacle of profligate
and wicked students perverting its privileges. But what of
that? Shall we burn our colleges? Why not our primary school
houses too? What beneficient institution, what bounty of the
blessed God is not perverted and abused in this naughty
world....[74]
I cannot leave this matter without remarking the power of
education especially with Friends. Their mode of education is
 the making and the keeping and the secret of their sect. They
subdue the infant conscience with the direct rays of the
inward light. They identify all divinity and right in the
associations of their children with the light within and its
friendly fruits. Here the spell commences that grows with their
growth and strengthens with their strength. Investigation is
much akin to skepticism and is devoutly precluded—but what
worse skepticism it is to suppose that investigation could raze
the foundation of our faith. They must take everything for
granted or see it in the light. They must wear a ridiculous cut
and color of clothes, such as are orthodox or common to the
clanship and use the plain language and act like Friends, and
then if they feel awkward or foolish, if their garb appears
ridiculous to themselves, if their manner expose them to
jeering and affront, if they are insolently struck (as I have
often) in the street by worthless boys and cursed as a
“Quaker,” if their effeminate holy whine is profanely mocked,
as it often is by saucy passengers, and if a thousand other
inconveniences accrue, especially if they are sometimes
asked for one good reason for such singularity in gratuitous
opposition to mankind, they must just bear it all for
righteousness sake, not be afraid of the cross, but remember
early Friends how much more they endured in the same
cause. Now much of this which they call a guarded education,
is just the worst kind of sorcery. It is a fascination and
religious tyrannizing over the blighted attributes of mind. It is a
system exactly calculated to prostrate every noble,
courageous and manly sentiment, and to transmute a fine
ingenuous boy into a sorry, sly, and often simulating creature
in the form of a man.[75]

It is not necessary to discuss directly the views [Sidenote:

set forth in the above quotation, as they are stated Contrast Cox’s
clearly enough in the author’s own language. statements above
with those of early
However, in the following pages, there will be Quakers in regard
presented the views on education of as many to education]
prominent Friends as space will permit, that in so