Page 31 of Married to My Sis’s Bratva Fiancé

For some reason, it rubbed me raw.

"She knows how to make people think she is different."

He didn't argue. Didn't push. He just dipped his head politely and disappeared into the crowd.

Elena happened to look up, searching for me.

Our eyes met over the sea of bodies, and her mouth curved—small, careful.

Then Yegor stepped in front of her.

He'd been a long-term partner of mine. One of the few men who'd had the balls to haggle with me to my face.

He was a few years younger, born into money. Sun-browned skin, that lazy expression like nothing in the world could really touch him—he looked like some Middle Eastern royal brat who'd slipped out of a palace to go hunt trouble.

He'd been picky about business. Even pickier about people. He almost never approached anyone first.

Tonight, he carried a drink straight to my wife.

He smiled and said something to her, then leaned in slightly and listened while she finished. After that, he handed his glass to a passing server and held out his hand. Elena hesitated, then put her hand in his.

He kissed the back of her fingers.

Fire shot through my blood. I set my drink down and cut through the crowd.

By the time I reached them, Yegor had straightened. He glanced at me first, surprise flickering through his smile.

"Didn't expect you to bring the wife," he said. "She doesn't match the rumors."

"Does she?" I moved to Elena's side and hooked my hand around her waist, pulling her in.

Her body tightened under my palm.

Yegor's eyes dropped to my hand before he looked back at Elena. "I heard you like to paint. That true?"

Elena's gaze dipped on instinct, like she still wasn't used to anyone asking her that with a straight face. "Yeah. Just... normal stuff. Nothing polished."

"My mother collected oil paintings. I studied a little because of her," Yegor said. "She used to say it doesn't matter if it is 'polished.' Painting is just different people seeing different things. If it makes someone stop and look twice, it has value."

Elena lifted her head. Her eyes lit up.

"Thank you," she said, quiet.

"If you'd let me, I'd love to see your work sometime."

"Her paintings aren't for public display," I cut in, sharp.

Elena turned to me. "I've done group shows."

"That was before. Now you are my wife."

"Getting married doesn't stop me from being an artist." Her voice stayed low, but she'd still contradicted me—right in front of Yegor.

Yegor went silent for two seconds. He looked at me like I'd said something stupid.

"Mrs. Morozova is herself first, and your wife second," he said. "Who she shows her work to should be her decision."

Elena's breath caught. She stared at him like she didn't know what to do with someone saying that out loud.