Page 4 of The Bratva's Captive

Nikolai scowled and looked around the room. He and Damon were twins, in between me and Saul, but they couldn’t have been any more different. Where Damon was huge and scary, Nik could almost seem charming and laidback. But since he was our best spy, too stealthy to ever be caught by our enemies, I knew better than to assume he was merely looking for a way out of here.

He was looking for someone.

“You’ll get back to them soon enough,” our father told Damon. His smile was a proud one, full of appreciation for his second-born to be this lethal of a punisher for the men we captured. “And there’ll be more before you know it.”

Our father wasn’t boasting for the hell of it. He spoke the truth. With the uptick of attacks on our businesses and the sabotage in our operations, it was clear that a trend of unrest was keeping us on our toes more often than not.

I didn’t understand why, yet, but that was how life was in the world of syndicated crime. Violence and death were variables we could count on to be constant, but lately, it’d been nonstop. Sooner or later, we’d find the main source of all the recent chaos.

“It wouldn’t hurt for you to consider all the guests here,” my grandmother chided, glancing directly at me as I took another flute of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray.

I rolled my eyes, knowing precisely what she meant.

“It should be you out there showing off your new bride.”

Shaking my head, I sought a reserve of patience to shut that down. “No, Grandmother,” I drawled. “It should not.”

“You have to marry sooner or later and?—”

“Ah, let him be, Mother.” My father waved at her, also mildly annoyed, cringing as he dismissed her. His experiences with settling down with a bride hadn’t ended well, and I was glad I could have him on my side in this matter. He wouldn’t care about my procrastinating.

“I am in no mood to settle down,” I reminded her, something I’d told her several times lately.

“You’re nearly forty already,” she protested. “And…” She went quiet as Nik got up and left the table. Giving up on frowning at him and how he’d stepped away without a word, she sighed heavily. “You’re almost forty, Maxim. You need to find a woman and?—”

“No,” I repeated. Being the eldest brother wasn’t a curse, except in regard tothis. I would have to be the first to get a wife and knock her up. And I dreaded the time when I’d have to fulfill that obligation.

Sure, I knew it was coming, but I doubted I’d ever fully trust a woman, not one who’d stay in my life for good. Fucking random whores was fine. Anything that resembled more commitment than that was a hard pass.

“Maxim, stop this.” She shook her head before people-watching instead of narrowing her eyes at me. “You can’t assume every woman will end up like your mother did. Beatrice isn’t a representation of every woman out there.”

I shrugged, sipping my drink and wishing I could replace the champagne with vodka. Something stronger to dull this fucking boredom that wouldn’t let go of me. It didn’t matter what she said. I was fine assuming every one of these women were cut from the same manipulative, traitorous fabric.

“There are so many here, all these daughters and nieces of so many fine families.” She lifted her hand to gesture at the expanse of the ballroom. “You could have your pick of the finest. Would it be so terrible to get up from this table and quit this sulking? Just go and speak with someone. Meet a few of the princesses and?—”

“No,” I repeated, firmer and without much patience. I loved my grandmother. My family meant everything to me. While I wouldhave to do my duty and get a wife and an heir someday, I didn’t see any reason to focus on it tonight.

“Why not?” she demanded, sassy and able to get away with it. “Look. Just open your eyes and look.”

“I can barely keep my eyes open,” Damon joked wryly. “I’m about to fall asleep.”

I chuckled, smiling at him. This would be a drag for him. A deadly enforcer more used to power and spilling blood than acting like a polished prince would never fit in here.

“Oh, hush, you.” Our grandmother furrowed her brow at him. “You’ll be even harder to work on.”

Damon almost smiled, cracking the kinks out of his neck and sighing like he was put out to be present at all.

“I don’t know,” Saul said as he lifted his wineglass and pointed with a finger lifted off it. “Richard’s daughter is looking more… mature now.”

I spared the nineteen-year-old a glance and rolled my eyes. I did like them young, but not infantile. Shooting my brother a look to shut up, he grinned and obeyed under the rules of reverse psychology.

“Oh, there’s the Evanovich daughters.” He pointed out a couple more Mafia princesses.

I growled and shook my head. “Cut it out.”

“No, he’s right,” Grandmother insisted, smiling as she, too, looked at the regal women in attendance. “The least you could do islook.”

“I am looking,” I lied. Isawall the Mafia women here, but I wasn’t considering any of them. I wouldn’t let my grandmother get her hopes up high that I was on the hunt for a wife. Not yet.

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