Page 22 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

Underneath is a small compartment carved into the floor joists. Inside is a single object.

A key.

It’s small, brass, the kind that opens a lockbox or a safe. I pick it up and turn it over in my palm. There’s no marking on it, nothing to indicate what it unlocks.

It has to mean something. People don’t hide keys under floorboards for no reason.

I’m still kneeling on the floor, staring at the key, when the library doors open.

I look up and Roman is standing in the doorway. There’s a crease between his eyebrows like he’s been frowning at documents for too long.

His eyes move from me to the displaced bookcase to the floorboard I pulled up. “What did you find?” he asks.

I close my fist around the key and stand. “I’m not sure yet.”

He crosses the room in long strides. When he reaches me, he holds out his hand.

“Let me see.”

“Why?”

I should just give it to him, but some petty part of me wants to hold onto this small piece of power.

“Vera.” His voice is quiet but there’s an edge to it. “The key.”

I open my hand. The key sits in my palm, small and innocuous.

Roman picks it up and his fingers brush against mine. The contact is brief but it sends heat up my arm. I pull my hand back and shove it in my pocket.

He examines the key, turning it over the same way I did. “Where was it?”

“Under the floorboard, beneath the bookcase.”

“You moved that by yourself?”

“I used the poker.”

Something that might be approval flickers across his face. He pockets the key and looks at the bookcase, then at me.

“Show me exactly where it was.”

I kneel again and point to the compartment. “Right there. That’s all that was in it.”

Roman crouches beside me. He’s close enough that I can smell his cologne. It’s a rich, masculine scent that sends heat straight to my pussy. Not now.

He reaches into the compartment and runs his hand along the inside edges. “Empty.”

“I know. I checked.”

“You’re sure there was nothing else? No papers, no⁠—”

“I’m sure, Roman. Just the key.”

He sits back on his heels and looks at me. We’re at eye level now and I can see the flecks of green in his hazel eyes.

“Good work,” he says.

The praise catches me off guard. “It’s just a key. We don’t even know what it opens.”