Page 28 of Scarred Bratva King

“I have a plan.”

“Is that what you were thinking when you murdered Arseni without permission?”

“You heard about that, then.”

He studies me for a long moment, his expression softening just enough to reveal the cracks in his armor. “You did what I would have done at your age,” he says at last. “But age brings wisdom. You must learn to think before you act. What if he had back up?”

“He didn’t.”

“I want this to work,” he adds quietly, sounding old for the first time. “I want grandchildren before I die. A legacy that endures. But more than that, I want to know you’re ready. That you can handle the weight of what comes next. This isn’t a game.”

His words linger in the cold air, and for a moment, I don’t know what to say. Finally, I nod. “We’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, just stares at me like he’s trying to see past the man I’ve become and into the boy I usedto be. Then he turns and walks away, his silhouette disappearing into the shadows.

14

MAXIM

Ifind Veronica in her bedroom, her dressing gown spilling around her, book in her hand. She looks tired but defiant, her sharp wit ready to lash out at the first sign of weakness.

“What do you want?” she asks from her armchair as I pour myself a drink. “I was about to go to bed.”

“We need to talk,” I say, turning to face her.

“Oh, goody,” she replies, leaning back dramatically and draping an arm over her forehead like some tragic heroine. “More bonding time with the human iceberg.”

A smirk tugs at my lips despite myself. “My father wants to interrogate us tomorrow morning. Together. He doesn’t believe this is real.”

She sits up, her expression shifting from theatrical to serious. “And what happens if he decides it’s fake?”

I take a slow sip of my whiskey before answering. “He’ll probably call off the wedding. Call off his retirement. And then the vultures will circle. The empire doesn’t survive without stability, Veronica. You won’t get your bookstore. Marco gets to live. My father probably gets shot by Lombardi trying to take him down.”

She groans, flopping down into the chair. “Fine. Let’s play twenty questions or whatever.”

I raise an eyebrow at her, intrigued by her sudden shift. “You sound enthusiastic.”

“Oh, I’m thrilled,” she deadpans. “So, where did we meet? A charity gala. I was serving food. I’ve learned all this already.”

“No,” I say smoothly, setting my glass down. “You were wearing something red. I couldn’t look away. That’s why you wore red tonight. To remind me of that first meeting.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Red, huh? Interesting choice. Fine, we met at a charity gala, and you chased me down, desperate for my attention. I finally agreed to date you out of pity because you kept whining at me, begging me.”

“I don’t beg.” I step closer, folding my arms across my chest. “I pursued you because you’re impossible to ignore. Stalked you for a while, forced you to say yes.”

She grins, satisfied. “Good. Much better for you to sound like a walking red flag.”

“At least now it’s believable.”

“What about our kids' names? If we’re serious, we’ve talked about that, right?”

“I guess.”

“I’m thinking Persephone.”

“Persephone?” I repeat, raising an eyebrow. “You want to name a child after the queen of the underworld?”

She shrugs, a mischievous gleam in her eye. “It’s fitting. You’re practically Hades.”

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