Page 81 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

“You should go after him,” Konstantin says. “He’s always been passionate. It’s one of his flaws.”

I turn and walk out of the study, my legs shaking beneath me.

Roman is already in the car by the time I reach the entrance, his hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white. I slide into the passenger seat, my heart still racing from the confrontation.

He doesn’t speak as he starts the engine and pulls out of the drive. He doesn’t speak as we wind through the streets toward the penthouse, either.

He doesn’t speak at all, and I don’t know what to say.

“Roman,” I try again.

“Don’t.” His voice is flat.

I fall silent, my hands clasped in my lap. I understand his anger because I share it, but I don’t know how to help him. How to make it better.

We’re almost back to the penthouse when he finally speaks again.

“I won’t let him do this.” His voice is low, fierce. “I won’t let him use our child as a pawn in his games.”

“I know,” I say softly.

“He called our baby a bastard.” Roman’s hands tighten on the wheel. “Our child. A bastard.”

I purse my lips into a thin line. “Let’s just get through dinner, okay?”

“Okay.”

24

ROMAN

Nothing about tonight is going to be easy. We’re halfway to Kuro-Tetsu, and the tension in the car only seems to be growing.

Vera sits beside me in a dress the color of dark wine, her hands folded in her lap. She looks beautiful and terrified in equal measure. I want to reach for her and offer some reassurance, but I can’t seem to form the words.

My mind keeps circling back to Konstantin’s study. Bastard. The word repeats in my skull until I want to put my fist through something.

I won’t let him diminish my child. I won’t let anyone diminish what Vera and I have built.

“Roman.” Vera’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “We’re here.”

I look up to find Artyom holding the door open, his expression as impassive as ever. The restaurant’s entrance glows ahead of us, warm light spilling through the windows.

I step out first, then offer Vera my hand. She takes it, her fingers cool against mine. I can feel the slight tremor in her grip, and I squeeze gently.

“Let’s get this over with,” I say.

She nods, but doesn’t speak.

The hostess leads us through the main dining room to a smaller area in the back. It’s the same restaurant where Konstantin ambushed us before, and I have to suppress a flash of anger at the memory. The long table is already occupied by several elders and their companions, their conversations dying as we enter.

Konstantin sits at the head, of course. Katya is beside him, her platinum hair swept up in an elaborate style that shows off her neck. She watches us approach with an expression of calculated disinterest.

I pull out Vera’s chair before taking my own seat. The small gesture doesn’t go unnoticed; I can feel the weight of every eye in the room.

“You look well, Vera,” Katya says, her voice carrying across the table. “Marriage seems to agree with you.”

Vera’s chin lifts slightly. “Thank you.”