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I snorted. “Da doesn’t lie. He doesn’t have to.”
She blinked, then shot my father a look. He was nursing a shot of vodka like it was poison. Maybe to him, it was.
“Looks normal, doesn’t he?” I muttered, and saw her lips twitch.
“Surprisingly, yes.”
“He’s not,” I said dryly.
“I know. I’ve heard of him.”
Hard not to in this area. I shrugged. “Eoghan’s like him—just not in the psychotic way.”
“Good to know,” she murmured, her tone rueful.
“He’d never hurt you.”
“Wouldn’t he?” Her smile was pained. “Isn’t that par for the course?”
“No. And not with Eoghan.” I hunched my shoulders, feeling awkward. I really shouldn’t have to be doing this—warming up my brother’s bride-to-be for his sake, but fuck, Eoghan deserved a good woman, and Inessa was young enough for her Bratva roots not to have poisoned her.
A thought that was confirmed every time she looked at her father.
It was hidden well, but she loathed him. That much was clear. Even if itwasn’tclear to Antoni.
Anyone with that level of acting skills might have appeared untrustworthy, but sue me. She gave off good vibes, and I was willing to buy into it if it was an act.
“He’s not going to visit, is he?” she asked abruptly.
I blinked at her, then stared down at my shoes. “Probably not.”
“For the full two years?”
“Maybe. I’ll see what I can do.”
She swallowed. “Please? I’d like to know the man I’m tying myself to for a lifetime.”
I blew out a breath. “If it was Conor or Aidan, I’d say I could promise you and I wouldn’t break that promise, but Eoghan, he’s…”
“Difficult?”
Wincing, I shook my head. “Different. Not bad, not good. Just different. The war fucked him up some, but he’s not bad, just likes things done a certain way, you know?”
She twisted in her seat, eying me in a way that would have put my back up if I didn’t know she was my brother’s. “He’s particular?”
There was a zealousness to her tone that should have taken me aback, but didn’t.
Inessa was shrewd.
She wanted to know her husband, not so that she’d ‘know the man she was tying herself to for a lifetime,’ but so that she could learn him. His faults. His flaws. His strengths. His preferences.
That she wanted out of the Bratva was clear to me, that she wanted a life that was different than the one she currently led made sense.
And because I wanted the best for my dick of a brother, I could see that and was willing to help her out.
“Very. Loves home cooking, is addicted to the Yankees, and irons his socks.” Well, paid that old bat, Winnie, to iron them for him.
Her head tipped to the side. “Who’s his favorite player?”
And that was the start of an odd but unusual friendship. Okay, friendship was too strong a term. We were more like acquaintances with a mutual desire for a particular end goal.
Winning Eoghan over.
Making Eoghan happy.
Even if it was against his will…
