Page 47 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

Two weeks later, I find Vera in the living room, curled up with a cup of coffee and that damned book. She’s been reading it for weeks, but the bookmark hardly seems to move.

Vera looks up when I enter, her expression guarded. She’s been like this lately, present but distant, like she’s holding something back.

“I have somewhere I need to go tonight,” I say. “I want you to come with me.”

Her eyebrows rise. “Where?”

“One of Dmitri’s properties. I need to check on it, to make sure it’s secure.”

“You want me to come with you to check on a property?”

“I don’t want to leave you alone.” It’s partly true. “It might be useful for you to see it. In case there’s anything there that looks familiar.”

She considers this for a moment. I can see her weighing the options, trying to figure out if this is another power play or a genuine invitation.

“Fine,” she says finally. “When do we leave?”

“Now.”

Vera’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t protest. She does, however, make an enormous show of closing her book and rising to her feet. “Lead the way.”

I take her down to the ground floor, where the high-rise connects to a private parking lot. I could have Artyom drive the Mercedes, but instead I choose to drive the Land Rover myself.

Vera slips silently into the passenger side, and we go.

The drive takes us through the city and into an area that used to be industrial. The old meatpacking district has been gentrified in recent years, converted into luxury condos and artisanal shops, but there are still pockets of it that feel genuine.

The apartment building is one of the few that’s been renovated. It looks innocuous from the outside: brick façade, modern windows, and a small lobby with a doorman. It’s the kind of place where people come and go without being noticed.

Vera watches the building through the car window. “What is this place?”

“One of Dmitri’s investments.” I open my door and step out. “He kept it off the books.”

She follows me into the lobby, her eyes scanning the space with an alertness I recognize. She’s looking for threats. Three years of marriage to Dmitri taught her that.

The elevator takes us to the sixth floor. The hallway is quiet when we arrive. I pull the key from my pocket and unlock the door. I had Lev procure the keys for me; that man can find almost anything. Except, apparently, that damned ledger.

The apartment inside is not what I expected.

It’s luxurious, for starters. Hardwood floors stretch from wall to wall, and the floor-to-ceiling windows are beautiful. The kitchen is all stainless steel and granite. The living room has a leather couch that doesn’t have a single crease in it.

It looks like a showroom. It’s obvious nobody actually lives here.

Vera moves through the space slowly, her fingers trailing over surfaces. She stops in front of a bookshelf and examines the titles, then moves to the window and looks out at the city below.

“Did Dmitri spend a lot of time here?” she asks.

“I don’t know.” It’s the truth. “This place wasn’t in any of his official records. Lev found the address in some old correspondence.”

She turns to look at me. “You didn’t know about this apartment?”

“I knew Dmitri had secrets. I didn’t know all of them.”

“I didn’t either,” she says quietly. “I didn’t know this place existed.”

I watch her as she continues to explore. She moves through the apartment like she’s searching for something, opening cabinets and drawers, peering into closets. I follow at a distance, letting her take the lead.

The bedroom is at the end of the hall. It’s as sterile as the rest of the place. There’s a king-size bed with crisp linens and nightstands with nothing on them. When I walk inside, I can also see an empty walk-in closet.