AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Listen, I’m not a Kislev, but you’re like family to me. It’ll only be a piece of paper, but it changes the landscape. Nothing could make it clearer that Lili is off-limits.”
Vlad narrows his eyes. “No one would try to victimize her if she were already married; there’d be nothing to gain. You’d be a member of our family and well within your rights as her husband to straight-up murder anyone dumb enough to try.” He raises his eyebrows in my direction. “But you’d have to make it look authentic. Can you do that?”
“We can put on a bit of a show and convince people it’s for real. Then I’ll have the clout I need to keep her truly safe without locking her up to do it.”
“Our rivals and friends will be looking for the scam,” Vlad says. “You’d have to give one Hell of a performance.”
“I know. She’ll have to come and live with me, too, but there’s no other way. If someone took you out, I’d take the helm until Avel was ready to lead.”
This aspect hasn’t occurred to Vlad yet, but it’s a genuine concern. His importance puts him at high risk of assassination, and in that eventuality, someone would need to caretake until the balance of power was restored.
Sasha has turned down his place in the family hierarchy, and Avel is too young and inexperienced to take control of his bratva. Vlad knows damn well that there’s no one else he can depend on, and as Lilyana’s husband, that role would be mine automatically, without challenge.
“Alright.” Vlad stands, heading for the door. “But I’ll tell Lili. I’m going back on a promise, so I should have the balls to take ownership of the situation.”
“Okay.” I follow him out. “I’ll be at my apartment; let me know when you’ve broken the joyous news.”
“It’s not funny,” Vlad replies. “Your friendship with Lili is gonna be pretty strained from here on out.”
6
Lilyana
Istorm out of the house, my pain buried under rage. Arman’s apartment is only a block away, and as I round the corner onto his street, my mind swirls with angry thoughts. Tears gather in my eyes, and I wipe them with my sleeve, trying to regain my composure.
I should have seen it coming. Arman has been by my side, ever watchful, and I thought he was fulfilling his duty as my protector because of his loyalty to our bratva. No—he was just biding his time. If I hadn’t confided in him about Aldo’s advances last night, he wouldn’t have had the means to pressure Vlad into agreeing to this absurd fake marriage.
I understand Vlad’s predicament; he’s trying to protect me because he cares. Arman is simply seizing the opportunity to integrate into my family in the only way he can, and to Hell with me and what I want.
Arman sits outside on the steps of his building, holding a cardboard coffee cup. Next to him is a large blended cold brew with cream.
“Vlad told me you were on your way, all hot and bothered, so I got your favorite drink,” he says, patting the step beside him. “Sit and cool off.”
I fold my arms and glare at him. “Why are you doing this, Arman? Do you want power so badly that you have to steal my future?”
He furrows his brow. “Lili, it’s for your own good. Don’t tell me Vlad didn’t explain what would happen otherwise.”
Vlad explained, all right. You’re vulnerable, Lili—a liability to me and a danger to yourself. Any mafia or bratva man who gets his hands on you won’t love you; they’ll just want to use you.
No shit. And Arman is a bratva man to his bones.
“Aren’t you embarrassed?” I ask. “You’re going to marry Lilyana Kislev, who’s scared of her own shadow and can’t even read properly. Don’t you think people will laugh at you for marrying a silly little girl twelve years your junior?”
Arman arches a brow. “In the bratva? No. If Vlad called Aldo Moretti and offered you as his new bride, he’d accept instantly, and he’s so old he can remember when emojis were called hieroglyphics.”
I don’t smile, and his expression hardens. “So you want a proper answer?” he asks. “Alright. I expect most will read the situation exactly as you have. A business arrangement intended to safeguard the Kislev bratva’s lineage and keep the succession hierarchy in loyal hands. What do you want me to say?”
Arman descends the steps and thrusts my drink into my hand. “We’ll be married. Occasional public hand-holds and a few insincere vows, all in exchange for a fake husband who will act as a deterrent against men like Aldo Moretti.” He tilts his head. “Is that so bad?”
It doesn’t matter what I think; as ever, the wheels of the bratva world have turned, carrying me along to wherever I have to go. I’m a commodity, and the time-honored lore of the underworld makes me valuable to every other family that wants a piece of the Kislevs. Dynasties and kingdoms have been built on such misogyny for centuries.
Despite my impotent fury, I must acknowledge that Vlad and Arman are correct; I am vulnerable. And there are worse people I could be married to than Arman Nechayev. Far worse.
I meet Arman’s gaze. His eyes are like inky pools of darkness, and I’m momentarily lost in them before I regain my composure.
“So what happens next?” I ask.
“We’re having an engagement party at the Kislev mansion. Tonight,” he says, smiling at my shock. “Don’t look like that, tsvetok. The sooner you belong to me, the better.”
