Page 33 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

“Sir.”

I turn to see Oksana standing at the entrance to the kitchen, her hands folded in front of her. Good. It means the staff are settled in.

“Oksana.” I set the glass on the counter. “What are you doing here? It’s late.”

“I brought additional items from the manor.” Her eyes move to my bare chest, then back to my face. “I was about to leave.”

I open my mouth to respond, but there’s nothing to say. She knows where I’ve been. She knows who’s in my bed.

Oksana has worked for my family for thirty years. She was there when Dmitri and I were boys. She was also there when my father exiled me, because she packed my bags with her own hands.

She says nothing now. Just watches me with those knowing eyes.

“Will you be needing breakfast in the morning?”

“I’ll handle it.”

She nods once, then turns and lets herself out. The door clicks shut behind her.

I fill my glass with water and stand in the dark kitchen, drinking it slowly. The city sprawls below, thousands of lights from thousands of windows. Somewhere out there, my father is celebrating his victory.

Somewhere, Anton is planning his next move.

I refill the glass and head back to the bedroom. Vera is still asleep, curled on her side now with one arm stretched across the mattress where I was lying. The tension that usually lines her face is gone.

I set the water on the nightstand and climb back into bed. She shifts toward me without waking, her body seeking warmth. I pull her close and feel her sigh against my chest.

Sleep comes slowly. My mind won’t stop turning over the events of the evening, or the feel of Vera’s body against mine.

I finally drift off around three, my arm around Vera and my mind still racing.

Morning comes too soon.

I wake to gray light filtering through the curtains and Vera shifting beside me. She rolls onto her back and presses a hand to her forehead.

“What time is it?” she asks.

“Early. Go back to sleep.”

“I can’t.” She sits up slowly, her movements sluggish. “I feel like I didn’t sleep at all.”

I watch her carefully. There are dark circles under her eyes and a paleness to her skin that wasn’t there yesterday.

“Are you sick?”

“Just tired.” She swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands. “It’s been... well, you know.”

She makes it two steps toward the bathroom before she has to stop and brace herself against the wall.

“Vera—”

“I’m fine.” She waves me off. “Just stood up too fast.”

I’m not convinced, but I let it go. We have bigger things to discuss.

She disappears into the bathroom and I hear the water running. While she’s gone, I pull on a shirt and go to the kitchen to make coffee. The machine gurgles and hisses, filling the penthouse with the smell of fresh grounds.

Vera emerges from the bedroom twenty minutes later, wrapped in a robe with her hair still damp. She looks slightly better, but there’s still a drawn quality to her face.