“They weren’t supposed to,” he whispers back.
His mother stares at me, her beady eyes raking over me in a way that makes me feel like an animal in a cage.
“This,” she sneers, “is how you dress for a Kopolov family dinner?”
Matvei goes rigid beside me. Muscles coiled. Barely leashed violence simmering beneath his skin.
I feel like I’ve been tossed into shark-infested waters, and I’m bleeding.He shifts—now between me and them, shielding me like he did with Rafail.
I swallow hard.
I’m not used to being protected like this.
His mother tilts her head as if waiting for him to agree or to remind me of my place, but he doesn’t even look at her.
“She looksbeautiful.” He bends his mouth to mine and kisses me full on the lips, his hands tangled in my hair. It only lasts seconds, but the whole room seems to hold its collective breath. They all saw it.
His mother. Rafail.
Especiallyhis mother and Rafail.
He’s already turned his back to her.
My heart beats madly as I feel the weight of everyone’s stares even before I sit down. Matvei’s bitchy mother is the worst—her eyes sharp as a blade, making no pretense of kindness or even indifference. His father is quieter, but his presence is no less painful, his scornful gaze going from me to Matvei and back again. I wish they wouldn’t acknowledge my presence at all rather than treat me like some kind of misfit. I’ve faced open hostility before, but there’s something uniquely irritating about this.
His mother makes a few snide remarks under her breath, and I swear I hear his father say something that sounds like “trash at the dinner table.”
Matvei notices immediately and sits up straighter.
“Is there a reason you two are acting like spoiled brats?” His voice is cold and cutting.
Is it too soon to say he’s my hero? I’m still sore from where he…
His mother straightens. “How dare you speak to us like that?” She turns to Rafail. “Aren’t you going to make him be respectful?”
Rafail’s voice is calm but firm. “I make everyone here behave respectfully toward those who deserve it. We have a truce with Anissa. She’s paid the consequences for what she did to my family. As she’s done nothing to you, so I don’t understand the open hostility either.”
I stare in surprise. Maybe there’s a reason Matvei respects him.
I can’t help but stare at his mother. Her lips press into a thin line. Today, instead of her usual ruby red, she’s wearing anoffensive shade of pink that makes my eyes hurt. “We have every right to be concerned about?—”
“You don’t,” Matvei interrupts, his voice hard and flat. The dismissal in his tone sends a chill through the room. Then, without a word, he places his hand on my thigh and gives me a gentle squeeze. Something in me melts a little.
Matvei’s eyes cut to Rafail, who nods, barely perceptible. It’s all it takes.
“You two sit here. By me.” His voice carries the weight of authority, just as I suspected. The family patriarch, despite his younger years. I know from my recent research—and what I was told—that he became the head of the family at eighteen, after his parents’ untimely death. And though he’s barely in his early thirties, he carries the responsibility of a much older man.
I watch as Matvei’s parents hesitate before quietly moving. His mother’s glare still burns into me, but I just smile—sweet and cutting—my fingers deliberately grazing Matvei’s bicep possessively. Her lips press even tighter. Perfect.
Matvei smirks, ever perceptive, and drapes an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer. I don’t resist. His mother practically vibrates with fury.
It’s not personal, a little voice in the back of my mind whispers.
Matvei doesn’t care about me…
Does he?
He’s loyal. Loyal to the Bratva, to Rafail, to whatever code he’s built his life around. I’m just a puzzle piece in a larger scheme.
