Page 41 of Forcibly Sold to the Bratva
“We’ll free her when the time is right,” I say firmly.
The truth I don’t speak aloud is simpler and more selfish: I’m not ready to let her go. Not yet. Maybe not ever. And that terrifies me more than anything else.
“If you say so,” Bogdan says, and slowly, we make our way back to the porch. The cars arrive, and all our siblings get in. Arina stands by my side the entire time, waving her goodbyes with a smile on her face that makes me feel like the worst man alive.
When the last of the cars leaves, I find myself alone with her. She wraps her arms around herself, like she’s cold, but remains standing by my side. I don’t say a word. Something tells me she has something on her mind, but I don’t want to push.
I know she’s still livid with me for lying about who I was.
“Your family, they’re not what I expected,” she says softly at last.
“What did you expect?” I ask gently, knowing I won’t judge what she says.
“I don’t know. Something out of The Godfather, I guess,” she giggles, and I smile at the image she paints.
“They’re a bunch of cartoons,” I tell her. “And they liked you.”
“Even though I’m a Sokolov?”
“Despite that,” I say, taking a step closer, testing the waters. When she doesn’t back away, I finish what I have to say. “They know you don’t deserve to be caught in the middle of this mess.”
She looks up at me. The silence stretches between us, and I have every urge to tell her how sorry I am, but everything has already been said, and I do as she asks—give her time to process.
And then she smiles. Actually smiles, like the ice of pain around her heart has somehow started to thaw. “I should get to bed,” she says, and I nod.
“Good night, Arina.” I smile down at her.
“Good night, Ilariy. Thank you for inviting me to join. I liked your siblings,” she says kindly. I don’t deserve her kindness, but I hold on to it with all my might. “And your sisters. They were lovely!”
“Be careful. They’re tyrants and they’ll drag you to that pottery class if you let them,” I warn, trying an attempt at humor.
She laughs and gives me a wink, like everything is normal. “It’s they who need to watch out. Once I’m in a pottery studio, I’m the tyrant.”
I laugh too, imagining her like that, and she turns away with a final smile and nod and heads indoors.
I watch as she walks in, up the stairs. For just a second, I count my blessings. Despite how the evening started, it ended better than I could ever have hoped for.
Chapter 12 - Arina
I squish the clay between my fingers and center the gooey mass on the wheel. It yields how I want it to, and there’s something so satisfying about this very act of creation.
At last, I’m back in my happy place, all thanks to Tatiana and Katya. When they called last night asking if we could schedule this class as we discussed over dinner the previous week, I almost jumped with excitement.
I know that Ilariy’s sisters are warm and that our conversations were organic, but to see them take this initiative makes me even more fond of them.
Around us, the pottery class is abuzz with laughter and chatter. Just being here, on this sunny day, is such an absolute delight and some much-needed time away from the house.
“Arina, you’re a natural!” Tatiana exclaims and then throws a pitiful look at her object.
“What are you making?” I ask with interest at this abstract sort of figuring in her hands.
“A bowl,” she says sheepishly, and I giggle.
“How the hell is yours so good?” she moans, but it’s not from a place of jealousy; it’s from a place of genuine interest.
“I have had a lot of practice, remember?” I say gently as I begin to flatten the base of my vase with my fingers.
“I swear we’re coming here every week,” complains Katya. “Until we get this just right.”
