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Maybe she’s right.

She leans forward slightly. “You should just tell Andrei about Luke.”

Her gaze drops to my arm, and she points at the tattoo resting there. “Seeing that,” she adds, “I doubt Andrei is going to be letting you go. Not with his name stamped on you like that.”

I follow her gaze and look down at the tattoo. A small smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it.

Mabel chuckles softly. “Look at you,” she teases. “A full-blown mafia wife. Bodyguards and all.”

I glance over my shoulder at the two huge men Andrei insisted on sending with me. They stand a few feet away.

Mabel’s expression shifts, turning serious. She studies me carefully. “Are you happy?” she asks.

I pause, thinking.

“It wasn’t exactly on my bingo card this year,” I say slowly, “to marry the Bratva devil and get his name tattooed on my arm.”

A small, breathy laugh escapes me.

“But strangely…” I continue, my voice softening, “I’m not unhappy.”

I smile softly. “Every morning when I wake up and hear Anya’s laughter filling the house, seeing how happy she is here… and the way she loves Andrei. Seeing how much he loves her gives me joy. So yes… I’m happy.”

I leave the restaurant feeling a strange mix of emotions after my brunch with Mabel. The entire ride home, her words keep echoing in my head.

When the car pulls up to the house, I still can’t believe I’m starting to think of Andrei’s place as home. But the truth is… it’s beginning to feel like one.

I can hear Daria humming softly in the kitchen as she preps for dinner.

I poke my head in. “Daria, is there anything I can help with?”

The older woman turns and gives a strong shake of her head, smiling warmly. “No, no, Mrs. Popov. I have everything handled. You relax. Anya is napping in her bedroom.”

I nod and lean against the counter. After a moment, I ask casually, “Did Luke come to the house often before?”

Daria wipes her hands on her apron. “Oh yes, quite often in the past. He used to visit regularly… until he married that lady.”

My interest sharpens. “Is that so?”

Daria makes a face, clearly holding back. “Luke’s wife is well… a lot. She always made the most obnoxious demands whenever she came. She once demanded I prepare an entirely new menu at eleven at night because she was ‘feeling peckish.’ And she was incredibly rude to the staff. Snapping her fingers, raising her voice, calling people incompetent if things weren’t exactly how she wanted.” Daria shakes her head. “Mr. Popov finally told Luke not to bring his wife here again unless she learned some manners. And Luke stopped coming all together.”

I shake my head slowly, a bitter smile tugging at my lips. That description fits Sharon perfectly.

“Do you know if Luke is bringing his wife to dinner tonight?” I ask.

Daria huffs. “No. Mr. Popov specifically told me it’s just Luke coming for dinner. I heard they’re getting a divorce, actually.”

“Hmm,” I murmur, keeping my tone neutral.

“It’s not a surprise,” Daria continues, chopping vegetables with more force than necessary. “I knew that marriage was headed for the rocks the first time I saw those two together. No warmth. Just… performance.”

I tilt my head. “Is that so?”

Daria suddenly pauses, as if remembering who she’s talking to. “Oh dear, what am I thinking? Badmouthing your sister-in-law like that. I’m so sorry, Mrs. Popov.”

I can’t help it, I laugh softly. “Daria, you have no idea. Nothing you said about Sharon is untrue. Not even a little.”

The older woman’s eyes widen in shock. “You… know her?”