Page 82 of Obsession of the Bratva

The room fell silent. Neither of us liked discussing Manny Stavros. Mostly because every conversation inevitably ended with me wanting to break something.

Vera sighed. “I know.”

“No.”

I sat up. The movement caused her to do the same.

“I don’t think you do.”

She frowned, and I stared directly at her. “Your father threatened to have me killed and forced you into an engagement.”

Her jaw tightened.

“He did.”

“He tried to decide your future for you.”

“Yes.”

I leaned forward. “Then why are we pretending these people deserve mercy?”

The question landed between us, heavy and uncomfortable. Vera looked away first because she didn’t have an answer. Neither did I. At least not one she’d like.

“I don’t want revenge.” The words came out quietly and I reached for her hand, interlocking our fingers. “This stopped being about revenge a long time ago.”

Her eyes lifted to mine and then she immediately knew. I saw the understanding and realization dawn on her.

“They’re not after me anymore.” I nodded. “They’re after us.”

Neither of us spoke because that was the truth. The simple, ugly truth. And truths were becoming increasingly difficult to ignore lately. It didn’t take us long after that to make up and fall out of that conversation because we both knew my mind was made. I was always open to listening to Vera, but this time she would have to listen to me.

I wasn’t going to back away.

An hour later we were downstairs having breakfast. Vera was picking at fruit while I was reading reports. It wasn’t normal relationship behavior, especially after our fight, but the silence remained comfortable. Until Vera spoke again.

“You’ve already decided.”

I didn’t look up. “Yes.”

A pause. “You aren’t even considering another option.”

“No.”

She sighed, and I continued reading.

“That’s infuriating.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“Nico.”

I finally looked up and her expression was frustrated. She looked worried and a little sad, but every time I looked at her, the only thing I was reminded of was how beautiful she was. Which was unfortunate because beautiful women frequently distracted me from important conversations.

“What?” I finally asked.

She stared. “You’re impossible.”

I smiled, and she pointed at me.