Page 75 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

“I need you.” Her voice is stubborn, but there’s a pleading quality to it too. “Please. I want to feel something other than fear.”

I know that need. I’ve felt it myself, more times than I can count; but I also know that she’s running on empty. I won’t take advantage of that, no matter how much I want her.

“Tomorrow,” I say, settling beside her and pulling her against my chest. “Right now, you need to sleep.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but a yawn escapes instead. Her eyes flutter closed, and I can feel her body relaxing against mine. “Fine,” she mutters, her voice already thick with sleep. “You owe me.”

I smile against her hair. “I’ll pay up. I promise.”

She makes a sound that might be a laugh, and then she’s asleep.

Morning comes too soon.

I wake before Vera, my internal clock pulling me from sleep at the usual time despite the late night. She’s still curled against my chest, lips slightly parted. Cute.

I take a moment just to look at her. I trace the lines of her face with my eyes before slipping out of bed and heading for the kitchen.

Oksana arrives an hour later, as she always does. She takes one look at my face and doesn’t ask questions, just sets about preparing breakfast with her usual efficiency. She doesn’t comment on yesterday, and I can’t tell if it’s practicality or a genuine desire not to know the details.

Vera emerges from the bedroom a little while after that, still wearing my shirt. She looks better than she did last night; some of the color has returned to her cheeks, and the shadows under her eyes aren’t quite as dark.

I watch her as she settles at the kitchen counter, my eyes tracking her movements with the same attention I’d give a potential threat. She’s moving slowly, like she’s trying not to jar something. I pour her a cup of coffee and set it in front of her. She pushes it away without taking a sip.

“You don’t want your coffee?” I ask.

She shakes her head, not meeting my eyes. “My stomach is a little off. I think it’s the stress from yesterday.”

I frown. Vera always drinks her coffee. It’s one of the few things I can count on her doing every morning without fail.

I watch her as she picks at her breakfast, barely eating anything. After ten minutes she excuses herself to the bathroom. She returns looking even paler than yesterday.

It takes her a few minutes to realize I’m watching.

She drops her hand quickly, a flash of something, guilt or fear, crossing her features before she can hide it.

My instincts kick into high alert. Something is going on. Something she’s not telling me.

I pull out my phone and send a text to Dr. Morozov, asking for an emergency appointment. Then I turn to Vera.

“Get dressed,” I say. “We’re going out.”

She looks at me, confused. “Where?”

“To see a doctor.”

Her face goes white. “What, why?”

“Because something is wrong.” I keep my voice calm, matter-of-fact. “It’s not like you to forgo coffee, Vera. I’m not stupid.”

“I’m not ill.”

“Vera.” I step closer, lowering my voice. “You’re being weird. I’ve seen women do the same thing before.”

She stares at me, and I can see the moment she realizes she’s been caught. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, but her voice is thin.

I don’t push it. Whatever she’s hiding, we’ll find out soon enough.

“Get dressed,” I say again. “We’re leaving in ten minutes.”