Page 67 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

Konstantin’s voice echoes in my head, those two words repeating over and over like a curse.

It’s time.

Oksana is still watching me from the kitchen doorway, her face tight with concern. “Vera, what is it? What’s wrong?”

I can’t answer. I can’t form the words. I just stand there, the phone clutched in my hand, my mind racing through possibilities that all end in darkness.

Then I hear the noise in the hallway.

It’s muffled at first, the sound of voices raised in argument. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but I recognize the tone. Someone is trying to get in.

I move toward the door without thinking, my feet carrying me across the room before my brain can catch up. Oksana calls after me, but I don’t stop.

The two guards are blocking a man from reaching the door. His face is red with exertion.

It takes me a second to realize it’s my father.

“Let me through!” he’s shouting. “She’s my daughter; I have a right to see her.”

The taller security guard steps forward, his hand raised in a placating gesture. “Sir, Mr. Volkonsky left strict instructions⁠—”

“I don’t care about his instructions. I’m her father!”

I freeze in the doorway, my heart sinking. Of all the people I expected to see tonight, he’s the last one I wanted.

He looks worse than the last time I saw him. Thinner, too, like he hasn’t been eating well. His suit is rumpled, his hair greasy and unkempt. There’s a desperation in his eyes that I’ve never seen before, a wildness that makes my skin crawl.

“Vera!” He spots me in the doorway and his face transforms, the anger melting into something that might be relief. “Vera, thank God. I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to hear whatever he has to say, but I can’t seem to make my feet move.

“Dad,” I say. My voice comes out higher pitched than I want. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” He pushes past the security guard, who steps back with a warning look at me.

“What do you want?”

He flinches at that, but he doesn’t back down. “Vera, please. Just give me five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

The security guards are watching me, waiting for my signal. I could have them throw him out. I could walk away and never look back. Something in his face stops me. Something that looks almost like fear.

“Fine,” I say. “Five minutes.”

I step back into the penthouse and he follows; his footsteps are heavy on the hardwood floor. Oksana looks up, her eyes wide with alarm. I give her a small shake of my head, telling her to stay back.

My father looks around the penthouse as we enter the living room, his eyes lingering on the expensive furniture. “Nice place,” he says. “Volkonsky’s?”

“Roman’s,” I correct him.

“Same thing.” He waves his hand dismissively. “They’re all the same, Vera. All of them. They take what they want and leave the rest of us with nothing.”

The irony of that statement, coming from him, is almost too much to bear. I want to scream at him for everything he’s said and done.

“Vera, I need your help.” He’s not looking at me now, his eyes darting around the room like he’s afraid of being overheard. “Konstantin is demanding payment. The debt I owed him, the one that... well, the one that led to your marriage. He says, now that Dmitri is dead, I owe him instead.”

My stomach drops. “What are you talking about? The debt was paid. That was the whole point of the marriage.”

“That’s what I thought, too.” He finally meets my eyes, and I can see the fear there, the desperation. “Konstantin says otherwise. He says Dmitri only paid part of it, and now that Dmitri’s dead, the rest falls to me. I don’t have it, Vera, so you’re going to have to marry Anton.”