Page 28 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

When the waiter leaves, Konstantin leans back in his chair. He’s watching Vera with an expression I don’t like. “You’ve lost weight,” he says to her. “Dmitri always said you were too thin. He preferred a woman with more curves.”

Vera’s hand tightens on my knee. I can feel her fighting the urge to respond.

“I’m sure Dmitri had many preferences,” she says finally. “He rarely shared them with me.”

“No, I imagine he didn’t.” Konstantin’s smile widens. “My son was a private man. Kept his thoughts to himself, unlike some members of the family.”

The dig is obvious. I ignore it.

The first course arrives. It’s a delicate arrangement of sashimi that Katya immediately begins photographing with her phone. I pick at my food, my appetite gone.

Vera eats mechanically, her eyes on her plate. She hasn’t spoken since Konstantin’s comment about her weight, and I can see her retreating into herself. The same protective shell she wore at the funeral.

I move my hand from my knee to hers. She stiffens but doesn’t pull away.

“You’re very quiet, my dear,” Konstantin says to Vera. “Is the food not to your liking?”

“It’s wonderful,” Vera says. “I’m just savoring it.”

“Savoring.” Konstantin chuckles. “Dmitri always said you were too polite for your own good. A woman should speak her mind, don’t you think?”

We say nothing more after that.

The second course arrives. Then the third. We eat in relative silence, the conversation limited to safe topics like the food and the restaurant’s decor. Vera and I eat and say nothing.

It’s during the final course that a man approaches our table.

He’s older, maybe sixty, with silver hair and a gut straining against his suit. I recognize him as Pavel Sorokin, one of Konstantin’s oldest allies. He’s been on the council for decades and his loyalty to my father is absolute.

“Roman.” Pavel stops at our table and nods to me. His eyes move to Vera and linger. “Mrs. Volkonsky. My condolences on your loss.”

“Thank you,” Vera says.

Pavel turns back to me. “I couldn’t help but notice you both. Quite the spectacle, isn’t it? The grieving widow and her protector.”

“It’s not a spectacle,” I say.

Vera’s hand is shaking under mine. I can feel the tension in her body, the effort it’s taking her not to respond.

“The Zabota period is ninety days,” I say. My voice is carefully controlled. “During that time, Vera is under my protection.”

Pavel exchanges a look with Konstantin. “Surely you’ve discussed it with her? The arrangement has already been made.”

“What arrangement?”

Konstantin sets down his chopsticks. “I was hoping to discuss this in private, Roman. Since Pavel has brought it up...” He trails off, letting the silence stretch.

“Discuss what?” I ask.

“Vera’s future.” Konstantin’s eyes move to her. “Once the ninety days are over, she’ll need a new husband. Someone to provide for her and continue the family line.”

Vera’s hand goes still under mine. “That won’t be necessary. Roman has offered me⁠—”

“Anton has expressed interest in marrying you.” Konstantin says it like he’s discussing the weather. “He’s prepared to take on Dmitri’s responsibilities, including his widow. It’s a good match. He’s ambitious and well-connected.”

The room seems to tilt. I can feel Vera’s hand go cold in mine.

“Anton,” I repeat.