Page 7 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

“How do I know you won’t just kill me too?” I ask. “Once I’ve helped you find this ledger?”

“You don’t.”

At least he’s honest.

“Think about it,” he continues. “If I wanted you dead, you’d already be dead. I could’ve done it in here. You’d be just another tragic accident, and I’d cover it up before anybody got suspicious.”

“That’s not reassuring,” I snap, but my tone wavers.

“It’s not supposed to be. It’s supposed to be the truth.” He moves toward the door. “I’m not asking you to trust me, Vera. I’m asking you to make a smart decision. Stay here and let Anton marry you, or take my deal and walk away free in ninety days.”

He pushes the door open. Air rushes in, and with it the smell of wet earth and grass.

“Think about it on the drive back,” he says. “My car’s by the gate.”

Then he’s gone, stepping out into the gray afternoon.

I stand there for a moment longer. My hands are shaking, so I clasp them together. The mausoleum feels smaller now, the walls pressing in.

Ninety days. That’s all he’s asking for. Ninety days of helping him find Dmitri’s secrets, and then freedom. Real freedom. I could leave this whole life behind, if I wanted to.

Or I can go back to the house and wait for Anton to show up with a ring and a proposal I can’t refuse.

My feet are moving before I’ve made a conscious decision. They carry me out of the mausoleum, across the wet grass. Roman is ahead of me, his long strides eating up the distance to the parking lot.

I should go find my father... but Dad is probably already drunk by now, and what would I even say?

I’m moving in with the man who killed Dmitri, who’s also his brother. Don’t worry, it’s just for ninety days.

He’d try to stop me. Or worse, he wouldn’t care.

Roman reaches a black Mercedes parked near the gates. He pulls out his keys and the locks click open.

He must be completely mad. I must be mad, too, because when he opens the passenger door, I slide into the leather seat without hesitation.

The interior is pristine. It smells like crisp, new car and something else. His cologne, maybe. Leather and sandalwood.

Roman doesn’t get in right away. He stands there with the door open, looking down at me.

“You’re sure about this?” he asks.

“No.” The word comes out before I can stop it. “But I’m doing it anyway.”

He nods slowly, then closes my door and walks around to the driver’s side.

Roman slides behind the wheel and closes his door. The sound seals us into the confined space together. He doesn’t start the engine. Instead, he turns to face me. His eyes have the same intensity as Dmitri’s, but there’s something different in them. Something sharper.

“What are you—” My words falter when his thumb grazes my cheekbone. To my mortification, my eyes flutter shut.

I should pull away. I don’t.

When he inhales, a smile crosses his lips. “Cherry perfume. It was always my favorite.”

How does he know what my perfume smells like? The thought makes my stomach leap, but at the same time something heavy and needy has settled low in my core.

I couldn’t ignore it even if I wanted to.

“You deserved better than my brother,” he says quietly, running a hand through my hair.