Page 26 of Married to My Sis’s Bratva Fiancé

"Do you know what he actually said?" Pera asked when I didn't answer, watching me through the mirror.

"What?" I frowned.

"Don't pile useless crap on her face." She lowered her voice, mocking that cold, hard tone.

I couldn't help it—my mouth twitched.

My body had healed. The banquet day had come. But after that night—after he'd stayed with me and waited for the doctor—Kiryan hadn't stepped into my room again. And he'd been busy. I barely saw him in the living room.

I knew that tenderness had been a fluke. I knew I had no business falling for these little acts of care.

Still, the woman in the mirror smiled—really smiled—for the first time since my mother died.

"That color looks insane on you," Pera said as she fastened my earrings. "Honestly, his taste is way better than his attitude. But you look so pretty tonight; he's probably going to regret letting you wear it."

"Pera."

"I am telling the truth." She looked like a kid who couldn't hold in gossip. "Everybody can see it. If he doesn't give a damn about you, why would he keep your art supplies safer than the stuff in the wine cellar?"

I snapped around. "My art supplies?"

Pera's smile faltered, like she realized she'd said too much.

"When you moved in, I didn't throw them out," she admitted, voice dropping. "I went against his order and hid them in storage. Later he found out. He didn't punish me, and he didn't have anyone toss them. Yesterday he had us inventory everything. Any ruined brushes, any dried-out paint—we replaced them with the same brands. Your things are still in storage. Nothing is missing."

My breath locked in my throat.

So when I'd been out in the rain, digging through trash cans like an idiot, Pera had already hidden them. And Kiryan—he'd found out and let her keep the only things I really owned.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"He didn't want me to." Pera pressed her lips together. "He probably didn't want you knowing he changed his mind. But I figured... married people can't just hold on to the shit that hurt."

Warmth filled my chest slow and heavy, like water rising until it was hard to breathe. Kiryan had kept something that was actually mine.

"So I'm telling you," Pera said softly, "he's going to be blown away when he sees you. Maybe one day you'll end up loving each other more than any couple I've ever seen."

"You're getting ahead of yourself." I dabbed carefully at the corner of my eye, refusing to ruin the fresh makeup.

"Fine. Think smaller." She winked. "Like this: he's already downstairs."

When Pera and I came down, Kiryan was in the living room talking low with his right-hand man, Feodor.

Kiryan wore a sharp black suit. Broad shoulders. That steady, dangerous calm a man earned with time and violence. It made the whole room feel too small for him.

Feodor saw me mid-sentence.

"Pakhan," he said to Kiryan, "Madam looks stunning tonight. I thought I should remind you—we should double security at the banquet."

Feodor was often at the Rossi villa with Kiryan. He usually wore the same blank face here, like emotions weren't allowed. I'd never seen him like this.

"Worry about your own job," Kiryan said, cutting him with a look.

Feodor laughed under his breath. "Yes, sir. I'll check the car."

He headed out. Pera let go of my skirt and slipped away too.

Silence settled in. Kiryan looked at me—eyes sliding from my face to my waist, then down the length of the dress. He stared too long, like a warm hand tracing me through fabric. My breathing went shallow, betraying me.