Page 57 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

I brush a strand of hair back from her face. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

“I know.” She leans into my touch. “But you did.” She studies my face for a long moment. Then she leans forward and presses a soft kiss to my lips.

We stay in the back seat until our breathing returns to normal and the sweat cools on our skin. Then I help her rearrange her clothes and she helps me with mine; we climb out of the car looking slightly less disheveled than before.

“Thank you,” she says quietly.

“For what?”

“For making me feel something, even if it was anger.”

I bring her hand to my lips and press a kiss to her knuckles. “Anytime,” I say.

17

VERA

Roman leaves before dawn on Thursday.

I wake to the sound of the shower going across the hall. Then I hear his footsteps moving through the penthouse.

I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. A door opens and closes somewhere in the apartment. He leaves without a word. That’s become normal.

I think about everything that’s happened in the past few weeks. My hand drifts to my stomach without conscious thought.

I still haven’t taken a test. Every morning since, I’ve told myself I’ll do it today, and every morning I find some excuse to put it off.

What if I’m wrong? What if the nausea is just stress, the missed period another side effect of everything that’s happened? If the test is negative, I’ll have to face the possibility that I’m not pregnant after all. That I’m still the broken woman Dmitri told me I was.

And... what if I’m right?

If I’m pregnant, everything changes. My decision about Roman isn’t just about me anymore. It’s about the life growing inside me, the child I never thought I’d have.

I need to know. One way or another, I need to know.

I finally drag myself out of bed, and pad into the hall.

The penthouse is quiet without Roman in it. I wander from room to room, aimless.

I keep coming back to the same thought, the same impossible question. Can I marry him and stay in this world, knowing what it costs?

That’s what it comes down to, isn’t it? If I say yes to Roman, I’m saying yes to the Bratva. I’m saying yes to a life of danger and uncertainty, a life where my husband could be killed at any moment and I’d be left alone to pick up the pieces.

I’ve already lived that life once. I’m not sure I can do it again.

Then I think about the way Roman looks at me. The sex is incredible, but it’s more than that. He respects me in a way nobody else ever has. Is it enough? I don’t know anything anymore.

Oksana arrives around two, carrying bags of groceries and a knowing look.

“You look terrible,” she says by way of greeting.

“Thank you.”

“I mean it.” She sets the bags on the kitchen counter and turns to face me, her hands on her hips. “When was the last time you ate something?”

“Uh...”

“Well, that explains everything.” She starts unpacking the groceries with brisk efficiency. “Sit down. I’ll make you something proper.”