Page 35 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

She stares at me, and she’s at a loss for words.

“I need an answer,” I say again.

She doesn’t give me one.

11

VERA

Isit on the edge of the bed for a long time. Roman doesn’t push me.

My mind keeps circling back to the same question. Marry him and stay bound to this world forever, or marry Anton instead. Neither option is acceptable. Both feel like a trap.

I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. The penthouse is quiet around me, all glass and steel and cold surfaces. It doesn’t feel like a home.

Roman stares at me. He’s rolling the sleeves of his black button-down up to his elbows. The motion draws my eyes to his forearms, to the way the muscles shift beneath his skin.

I look away.

“I have calls to make,” he says. “Security arrangements and such.”

I nod but don’t respond.

He crosses the room to where I’m sitting and stops in front of me. His hand comes up and tilts my chin so I’m forced to meet his eyes.

“This isn’t a trap,” he says quietly. “I know it feels like one, but I’m trying to give you options.”

“Options that benefit you.”

“Options that keep you alive.” His thumb brushes across my jaw and I hate the way my pulse jumps in response. “You have three weeks to decide. Better decide quickly.”

He drops his hand and walks out. A moment later, I hear his office door close.

I stay where I am for another few minutes. Then I reach for my phone. My father answers on the third ring.

“Vera.” His voice is careful. He’s not alone. I can hear the soft murmur of voices in the background. “This is unexpected.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Can it wait? I’m in the middle of⁠—”

“No.” My voice comes out harder than I intend. “It can’t wait.”

There’s a pause. When he speaks again, his voice is lower. “What’s wrong?”

“A lot of things.” I take a breath. “I need to ask you something, and I need you to tell me the truth.”

“When have I ever lied to you?”

I almost laugh. When hasn’t he? He lied about Dmitri, claimed he was a good man with a heart beneath the steel. What a lie that had turned out to be.

“Anton Grishin,” I say instead. “Is he being considered as my next husband?”

The silence on the other end of the line is answer enough. Then, “How did you hear about that?”

“Konstantin told me at dinner last night.” I grip the phone tighter. “Is it true?”

“Vera, these things are complicated⁠—”