Page 11 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

Oksana steps aside to let us in. The entrance hall is exactly as I remember it; there are black and white marble floors and a massive chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling. Everything is pristine and cold.

“The wake,” Oksana says. “Everyone is in the drawing room. They’re expecting Mrs. Volkonsky⁠—”

“They can expect all they want,” I cut her off. “She’s not going.”

Vera’s spine straightens. “I should probably go.”

“No.” I don’t look at her when I say it. “You’ve done enough today.”

Oksana watches this exchange with her usual unreadable expression. Then she nods once. “I’ll inform the guests that Mrs. Volkonsky is indisposed,” she says. “Grief, I assume.”

“That works.”

Oksana disappears down the hallway toward the sounds of conversation and clinking glasses coming from the main reception room. The wake is already in full swing, it seems, but I’ve no interest in seeing either of us attend.

Vera pulls away from my hand and walks to the center of the hall. She turns in a slow circle, taking it all in. This place was her prison for years. I wonder what it feels like to be back.

“You’re staying here tonight?” she asks. Her voice echoes slightly in the empty space.

“Yes.”

“I thought you said we’d go to your place.” She pauses. When Vera tilts her head, silky hair spills across her shoulders in thick waves.

She’s beautiful. I’d take her right here in the foyer, in front of the entire wake, if I could. Except such thoughts won’t do me any good right now, so I push them away for later. And later will come.

“Friday,” I say. “Tonight I need to be visible. Make sure everyone knows you’re under my protection now.”

She wraps her arms around herself. “What about my things?”

“What things?”

“My clothes. My... I don’t know. Personal items.”

“I’ll have someone pack them up and move them to the penthouse by Friday.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Vera looks like she might reply, but footsteps from the hallway interrupt her. A man I don’t recognize appears, one of Dmitri’s people probably. He takes one look at me and stops dead.

“Out,” I say.

He backs up and disappears.

I cross to where Vera is standing and take her arm. Not roughly this time, but firmly enough that she knows I mean business. “Come on. Let’s get you upstairs.”

She lets me guide her toward the grand staircase. Our footsteps are muffled by the thick runner carpet. At the landing, she pauses and looks back down at the entrance hall.

“Three years,” she says quietly. “I lived here for three years and it never felt like home.”

“That’s because it wasn’t. It was a cage. The library was your only escape, wasn’t it?”

Vera glances up, her eyes dark. For a moment I wonder if I’ve said too much. She only shrugs, and the strap of her black dress falls just enough that I catch a glimpse of her pale, freckled shoulder.

Vera doesn’t seem to notice, and I can’t decide whether to be grateful or angry that she doesn’t feel the same clawing need I do.

To distract myself, I take her hand and lead her the rest of the way upstairs.