Page 101 of Married to My Sis’s Bratva Fiancé

Her apartment was small. An easel jammed by the window, wet canvases leaning against the bookshelf, more stacked near a wooden step ladder.

It was all Elena.

I set the painting where she told me and checked it over. No damage. Her shoulders loosened.

"The bathroom's down there." She pointed down the hall. "Go shower first."

"You first."

"This is my place. I have clothes. You don't."

"I can go home."

"If you go out there now and get sick tomorrow, Olga will think I tried to murder you."

"She would have yelled at me first."

"And then she would have yelled at me."

"Fair."

She lifted her chin. "So go. Now. Shower."

I towered over her. She stood in her own apartment and ordered me around like she meant it—no shrinking back, no dodging my eyes, no waiting for permission.

I walked past her, my shoulder brushing hers. Just once. Her breath caught. My hand paused on the bathroom doorknob.

"Kiryan."

I looked back.

"Today... thank you."

She didn't say she forgave me.

I didn't get greedy.

"Go change out of the wet clothes."

I closed the bathroom door.

Hot water hit my shoulders, and my skin woke back up. I unbuttoned my soaked shirt. I'd just gotten it halfway off when her voice came through the door.

"I found a robe. I bought it too big."

I undid my belt and my waistband.

"Bring it in."

Silence for two seconds. "You can't come out and get it yourself?"

"The floor's wet."

"Then open the door a crack."

"It isn't locked."

More silence.