Page 37 of The Bratva's Plus-Size Bride

It’s all dark wood and low, lamp lighting, tufted leather seating in the booths or stools in front of the old, lacquered bar top. We take a booth by the window, and I sit across from Ella, doing another scan of the place. Crowded, loud, and completely unromantic, but it puts us close enough that my knees brush against hers every time she shifts in the seat, so that’s a bonus.

“Don’t let it fool you,” I say, sliding her a menu, “the food here is amazing. Best burger I’ve ever had.”

“So. Much. Beer.” Her eyes go wide as she looks over the extensive on-tap offerings.

A far cry from the champagne and caviar I’d like to treat her to, but it’s clear she’s comfortable here. That makes one of us. I’mnervous. My hands shake a little while I hold the menu, and I set it down on the table. I’m so desperate to make a good impression on her that I can barely order; the words tumble out of my mouth too quickly, so I have to repeat myself.

The noise from the bar gives us some privacy, at least. Ella takes a sip of her beer and leans in toward me, long eyelashes fluttering over those big, brown eyes. If this were a normal date, I’d kiss her. Instead, I bounce my leg beneath the table and wrap my hands around my pint glass to keep them off of her.

“You’re good at this,” she says, swirling her finger around to take in the pub. “Have you brought many girls on dates to this place?”

“Never,” I answer honestly. “This is just my spot, actually, and I haven’t wanted to share. You’re the first person I’ve ever brought here.”

That lights her up, and maybe not all hope is lost. “Really? Not even your family?”

“Just you.”

Our burgers arrive, and for a while, all we talk about is the food because it’s that good. But eventually, there’s no dodging the subject that brought her into my office today. The whole reason I might lose her.

“What do you think?” I say when I can’t stand it any longer. I just have to know. Is she going to stay, or do I need to somehow prepare myself to lose her?

She doesn’t play coy. We both know what’s sitting between us. “I think… there’s more to it than just what you showed me today. There’s more to it than just happy workers and a secret business. I know that firsthand.”

I inhale sharply. She’s right, of course she’s right. I just didn’t want to have to go there.

“There is.” The words hang between us.

“Show me,” she says, with that look of determination I’ve become so familiar with. Like a dog with a bone, she’s not letting this go.

I made her a promise, and when it comes to Ella, I’m a man of my word, so despite everything screaming at me not to show her, that it’ll be the final straw that drives her away from me, I take her back to my apartment. It’s not like the last time she was here when we had our hands all over each other. This time, she keeps them in her fists by her sides as I walk her to my office and sit her down in my computer chair.

“What is this?” she asks, glancing up at me behind her.

I bend down to use the mouse, so close to her cheek that it takes everything in me not to kiss her. What I’m about to show her will ruin any idea of romance she might be having, anyway.

“The dark side.” I turn my head so we’re practically nose to nose, and there’s nowhere to look but right into her eyes. So innocent, and I’m about to ruin it. “Are you sure you want to see this? I’m not going to sugarcoat it. It’s rough. Once you see some of this stuff, there’s no going back.”

She looks down and takes a minute to think it over before nodding. “I’m sure. I have to know, or I can’t really understand what I’m walking into. Or away from.”

Brave girl. For a second, I let myself hope that maybe this won’t scare her away, that she’ll see everything I have to show her and somehow embrace the Milov family and all of its sides. Viktor found someone who could love all of him, and maybe I can too. But I’m not holding out hope. This is the sort of shit I shield Anya from, and she was born into this world. Ella? She’s just too pure.

I click play and step back. Ella gets a front-row seat to all the worst of the Bratva world, a slideshow of murders, beatings, and blackmail. This is what she asked for. Her sharp intakes of breath stab needles into my heart, but I let it roll, let her decide for herself when she’s had enough, and try to brace myself for the eventuality. She’s going to walk away. She’s never going to want to see me again.

The thought drives the air from my lungs even as I deny it. If she leaves, I’ll lose my fucking mind. I know that much. I don’t have it in me to give her up and stay sane, not when she’s my obsession, my everything. She’s it for me, and if she goes, there’s no point in trying to be good anymore.

After ten minutes of the darkest parts of humanity, she pushes the chair back and gets to her feet. Her face is pale, whiter than I’ve ever seen it, and her eyes are haunted. I’m torn between reaching for her to offer comfort and backing away, letting her make her decision.

“It’s horrible,” I say, because she seems too stunned to speak and I have to say something. “This world… there’s not much about it I can change. I was born into it. My family is enmeshed with it.”

She shudders and wraps her arm around herself. I wonder if she’s reliving those moments in the hotel, when it could have so easily turned into a scene like the ones she was just watching.

I go on because now I can’t shut up. I have to justify it somehow, explain away the sharp edges. As if that’s possible.

“Even though we’re a part of it and there’s some stuff that’s unavoidable, we really do try to be a little bit better. Not so cruel. We aren’t saints,” I say, nodding toward the screen. “But we’re not the worst of it. That’s splitting hairs at this point, isn’t it?”

God, I’m rambling. None of my words are helping, that much is obvious from the stricken expression she’s wearing, but I can’t stop. They just keep spilling out.

“Obviously, I understand that you never want to see me again.” Just saying it cuts me to the bone, but I can’t let her see it. I don’t want to say her with my own feelings when the only ones that matter right now are hers. “Now that you’ve seen the real me.”

---