Page 34 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

“Here.” I hand her a mug. “Sit down. We need to talk.”

She takes the coffee and settles on one of the leather barstools at the island. I can see her bracing herself, her shoulders tensing.

“About last night,” she says.

“About last night, and about what comes next.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t let Anton⁠—”

“I won’t.” I lean against the counter across from her. I would kill before I let Anton take her, but I hope it won’t come to that. “The situation is more complicated than I realized.”

Vera wraps her hands around her mug. The color is starting to return to her cheeks, but she still looks fragile.

“My father has made his decision,” I continue. “He wants Anton to take Dmitri’s place, and he wants you to be part of that transition. It consolidates power, and ensures that I don’t gain any more influence than I already have.”

“So what do we do?”

I take a breath. This is the part I’ve been dreading.

“The Zabota tradition gives me ninety days of protection over you. During that time, no one can touch you, or force you into any arrangement without my consent.” I set my coffee down. “But once those ninety days are up, I have no legal or traditional claim on you. My father can do whatever he wants.”

“Unless...”

“Unless I have a claim that supersedes his.” I meet her eyes. “Marriage.”

Vera goes very still.

“If we’re married,” I say, “you become my wife. My family. My father and Anton have no power over you. You’d be under my protection permanently.”

“You’re asking me to marry you.”

I don’t let my face change. I’ve had years of practice hiding what I feel.

This is what I’ve wanted since the moment I saw her standing at Dmitri’s funeral. Since long before then, really. I should thank Anton; by trying to take her, he’s given me the one thing I couldn’t give myself.

A reason she might actually say yes.

“I am.”

She stands abruptly, her coffee sloshing in the mug.

“I’m not asking you to love me. I’m not asking you for anything except your name on a marriage license.” I round the island and stand in front of her. “It’s a practical solution to a practical problem.”

“Practical.” She laughs. “You’re asking me to trade one prison for another.”

“It’s not a prison.”

I take a breath. My jaw is so tight it aches. “Anton won’t give you a choice,” I say. “He’ll take what he wants and you’ll have no say in it. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not.”

“Then what’s the alternative?”

I have her, and we both know it. There’s no alternative, at least not one where she stays safe and happy.

Vera stares at me. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears, but her jaw is set. “I need time,” she says.

“Yes or no. Marry me and let me keep you safe, or walk away in ninety days and take your chances. Those are your options.”