Page 8 of Sinful Union

“Things never added up for me.”

“You’re just worried.”

“It’s natural to fear the consequences of such a plan. When a man is murdered—especially a man like Pavel—it can set events into motion that we may not have anticipated.”

My gaze snaps back to him, and I grip his hand tighter, my nails pressing lightly into his skin. “The deal is done, Vlad. Piotr is certain, and I trust him.”

Vlad’s eyes darken. “Do you? Do you really trust Piotr?”

The question hangs between us, thick and suffocating. I don’t want to answer it, not tonight.

“I trust him enough,” I concede, but the words are heavy, laced with bitterness. “He’s my brother.”

“And so am I.”

Piotr is smart, ruthless. I’ve always known he plays the long game, manipulating every move with surgical precision. But that’s what makes him a good leader. That’s also what makes him a threat. I shake the thought away. It doesn’t matter. “I’ll do my part for our family,” I say as I stare straight ahead over Vlad’s shoulder. “Our parents’ death will be avenged.”

Vlad’s expression is blank, but after a long moment, he nods reluctantly.

As if summoned, Piotr appears from among the crowd.

He stands at the edge of the dance floor, watching us with a polite smile that makes my stomach twist. It’s practiced and smooth, but I know him too well to miss the calculation behind it.

“Mind if I cut in?” Piotr asks as he approaches.

Vlad looks between us, his reluctance apparent, but after a tense second, he nods and steps back.

“Go right ahead,” he says as he gives Piotr my hand. “You know where I stand.” He gives me a stern look before walking away.

I watch him leave, his movements stiff, shoulders tight. Guilt takes over again as an uneasiness settles in my gut.

Piotr firms up his grip on my hand. “What were you two talking about?” he asks in a light, casual tone. I know he’s pressing me for information.

I meet his gaze, unflinching. “Vlad’s worried about me.”

Piotr’s eyes narrow slightly. “Areyouworried?”

I hold his stare, refusing to waver. “I’m nervous,” I admit, because that much is true. I straighten my spine. “But I won’t fail.”

Piotr’s smile widens, but it’s not comforting—it’s a warning. He leans in, his breath brushing my ear as he murmurs, “Remember your training, remember the plan. All you have to do is execute it.”

The words send a chill down my spine, but I don’t react. He pulls back, his expression softening. “I know what I need to do.”

“The look on your face as you spoke to Vlad made me believe otherwise.”

“You know, I don’t appreciate your spying on me.”

“That’s part of my job,” he says. “I wouldn’t be a good boss if I didn’t keep a close eye on things.”

I turn my head to see Pavel coming toward us, his stride purposeful, his gaze locked solely on me.

Piotr catches the shift in my attention and turns slightly, his expression stoic, as my new husband stops in front of us.

“May I have the next dance?” Pavel asks, his voice smooth and deep, pulsing through my bloodstream like warm liquor. My breath catches in my chest, but I force my expression to remain calm.

“Of course,” I reply.

Piotr’s eyes linger on Pavel for half a second too long before he finally steps aside.

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