Page 24 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

Roman moves to the desk and starts opening drawers. I go to the filing cabinet and try the top drawer.

It’s locked, too.

“Roman.”

He comes over and I gesture to the cabinet. He tries each drawer and they’re all locked.

“The key,” I say.

He pulls it from his pocket and tries it in the top drawer. It doesn’t fit. “Dammit.” He tries the second drawer. Still nothing.

The third drawer clicks when he turns the key. Inside are files. Dozens of them, all neatly labeled and organized. Roman pulls out the first one.

“Financial records,” he says. He scans the pages, his jaw tightening.

I lean over his shoulder to look. The numbers are staggering. Hundreds of thousands of dollars moving between accounts. Some incoming, some outgoing.

Roman pulls out another file. Then another. They’re all the same.

“He was draining everything,” Roman says. His voice is flat. “Look at the dates. They start eight months ago and the amounts get bigger as time goes on.”

I take one of the files and study it. He’s right. The pattern is clear; Dmitri was systematically moving money out of what I assume were business accounts into personal ones. Then those personal accounts were emptied.

“Where was it going?” I ask.

“Offshore accounts, probably. Cayman Islands, or somewhere else we can’t easily track.” Roman sets down the file he’s holding and pulls out more. “He knew. He knew I was coming for him and he was planning to run.”

I watch his profile. The muscle jumping in his jaw, the way his knuckles have gone white.

The room feels smaller suddenly. Roman is too close and it makes my skin prickle with awareness.

“We’ll keep looking,” I say, and force myself to turn away from him.

“Will we?”

“That’s the deal, isn’t it? I help you find the ledger.”

He steps closer. “What else?”

“What do you mean?”

“What else is part of the deal, Vera?” Another step. I’m backed up against the filing cabinet now with nowhere to go. “It feels like there’s more happening here than just a business arrangement.”

My heart is hammering. “There isn’t.”

“No?” His hand comes up and cups my jaw. His thumb brushes across my lower lip. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”

This is insane. We’re in Dmitri’s private study, surrounded by evidence of his crimes, and all I can think about is my lips on his. I want him inside me so badly I ache for it.

His hands skim up my sides, leaving heat in their wake. His mouth moves to my neck and I tilt my head back, giving him access.

Then I shove Roman back and scramble away from the filing cabinet. He steps back, his chest heaving and his eyes dark.

Footsteps stop outside the door. “Mrs. Volkonsky? Lunch is ready.”

I run a hand through my hair, trying to compose myself. “Thank you, Oksana. We’ll be down in a minute.”

Her footsteps retreat down the hallway.