Page 115 of Brutal Vows

Chertnikov isn’t only Petrov’s next target. Now this Mafia madman has his sights on him too. So do all my brothers, although they don’t know it yet.

“Are you sure he’ll be convinced this is your child, fathered by Dimitri, and there will be no tracks leading back to Milana?”

“Yes. I’ve been planning this for months. Varya is dead. I haven’t told Milana yet, I thought I’d spare her that, but she wouldn’t have given us away. Not even under torture. It’s the only way we women can keep the upper hand. Between us, the baby was always mine, and I’ve planted enough seeds for them to buy into the story.”

Women. Never underestimate them.

“Okay.” It’s going to take me a while to get my head around this scheme and how she, almost seamlessly, pulled it off. We’re not out of the woods yet. “I also want to know who did this to you—the acid, the broken jaw—and if they are still alive.”

“Why?”

“So we can eliminate them. I promise you, they’re dead men walking.”

She’s quiet for a minute. Snowflakes settle on her hair. “It’s a whole chain of command.”

“Great, I love working through those from the bottom up.”

She shoots me a warped smile. “Milana knows their names. She’s kept this to herself, but we spoke about it at length while she was here during her pregnancy.”

“Good.” One shit fest at a time. Those fuckers don’t know it yet, but they are on death row. I exhale. “The baby…please tell me nobody is looking for her.”

Wherever she thinks that baby came from, I’ve got news for her. If someone pays for a body, usually a fresh one gets created by killing someone innocent. I can’t bear thinking about it.

“Of course not! I was very specific in my request. Therefore the high fee. The baby died of a heart defect earlier this year, on the operating table as they tried to save her. Her parents died in a car crash, just weeks later. They didn’t have more children, so—” Her voice breaks. She chokes up. “She won’t be missed.”

She’s talking about herself, and without thinking, I pull her to me. The loneliness of her life after her parents got murdered, then being ostracized, having to walk around with this physical deformity, all the trauma she’s been through at the hands of men…it all adds up to her decision to die.

She clings to me and eventually whispers, “Milana said you were kind. And thoughtful. Sincere. Honest. Funny.” She burrows into my coat, and I hug her tighter. “She’s lucky to have an arranged marriage to a man like you.”

Her voice is frail, and I curse the man she was forced to marry and who ruined her. I cup her head and press her even closer. “I’m lucky to have her.”

“Promise me…promise me you will always care for her, for Annushka, even if it’s an arranged marriage. Just some respect can go a long way.”

“It’s an easy promise to make. You see, I’m in love with her.”

She blinks up at me. “You are?”

“Have been for a while.” It’s so easy to admit it to this woman. My secret, my quiet obsession, out in the world at last. She touches my cheek, and I feel the wet heat of tears as she wipes at them. Fuck.

“You’re a lucky man, Luca, because the way she looks at you, the way she kept looking at the door to see if you were coming back, the way she spoke about you…she’s in love with you too.”

I break into a chuckle. “You think?”

“I’ve known her all my life, and she’s always been so guarded with her heart. And after Dimitri, it would take a very special man to make her fall in love again. That special man turns out to be you.” She pulls her hand away. “Love her. Love Annushka as if she’s your own. Show them this isn’t the way the world has to be. Erase these memories one day at a time until all that’s left are mere echoes that can’t be heard above the raucous laughter of love and joy in your life. One man can make all the difference. You need to be that man. You are that man already.”

Her words break me, but it’s as if she’s the first person to see me for who I am. For who I aspire to be. For who I could be if the world gave me the chance to be myself.

“Thank you. You have no idea—” I swallow, unable to get the words out. I know what needs to happen next, and I don’t want to go there.

“You’re welcome.” She pulls away, exhales deeply, and turns her face to the sky. Smiles at the snowflakes that land on her cheeks, lingering briefly before melting away, tears of their own kind.

“It’s time,” she whispers. “Please don’t try to make me change my mind. The stage is set. Let the curtain open on the final act.”

I nod. “Thank you for doing this. It’s selfless.” We’ll honor her sacrifice. I lean in and press the softest of kisses to her temple, on her smooth, unburned skin. “It will be my honor.”

54

MILANA