Page 61 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

“Will that be all?” she asks.

“Yes, thanks.”

She scans the box and tells me the total. I pay with cash, not wanting to leave a paper trail, though I don’t know if I’m being overly paranoid.

The bag she hands me is small and white. You’d never know what was inside just from looking.

“Good luck,” she says as I turn to leave.

I don’t respond. I can’t.

When I leave, Oksana is waiting for me outside. She takes one look at me and reaches for my arm, steadying me.

“Did you get it?”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

“Then let’s go back.”

The walk back feels longer than the walk there. Every step is weighted with the knowledge of what’s waiting for me. I don’t say anything.

Neither does Oksana. We just walk, our footsteps falling into an easy rhythm on the pavement.

I try to picture his face when I say the words, but I can’t. His expression is always the same in my imagination: closed off. I’ve no idea if he’d be happy or outraged.

He could be either. Roman might even see this as a complication or an obstacle in his path. Or he might see it as an opportunity, a way to bind me to him forever.

I don’t know. I don’t know him well enough to predict his reaction.

That terrifies me more than anything.

We walk the rest of the way, and I don’t even look at Oksana as we go.

The doorman is standing at his post when we reach the building. He’s an older man with a kind face, though I don’t know his name. His eyes follow me as I approach, and something in his expression shifts.

“Mrs. Volkonsky,” he says. “Is everything alright?”

I open my mouth to respond, but Oksana steps in before I can. “She’s fine,” Oksana says, her voice calm and reassuring. “Just needed some fresh air.”

The doorman nods, but his eyes linger on my face for a moment longer than necessary. I wonder what he sees there. I don’t think I even want to know, honestly. Whatever it is, he doesn’t push. He steps aside and lets us pass instead, and goes back to the newspaper behind his desk.

The elevator ride feels endless. I stare at the numbers above the door, watching them climb slowly. Each floor brings me closer to the moment of truth.

Oksana stands beside me, silent and steady. Her presence is a comfort, even if I can’t bring myself to speak.

The doors finally open, and I step out into the hallway. The security detail is waiting.

The taller one checks his watch as I approach, his expression disapproving. “You’re late,” he says.

Something in me snaps. “I’m not late,” I say. My voice comes out sharper than I intend, but I don’t care. “I said I needed twenty minutes.”

His brows climb to his hairline.

I check my own watch, my hands still trembling slightly. “It’s been twenty-two minutes. That’s hardly late.”

The security man’s jaw tightens. He looks like he wants to argue, but one glance at my face seems to change his mind.

“Of course, Mrs. Volkonsky,” he says. “My apologies.”