Page 42 of Forced to Marry the Russian Pakhan
“Oh,” I murmur, unsure why the fact that they didn’t seem to like her makes my chest feel... lighter. “We’re not—I mean, this isn’t—”
“We know,” Darya says, gently cutting me off as she settles onto the edge of the bed. “Trifon told us everything.”
I tense. “Everything?”
“About the hospital. The shooting. How he made you sign those papers,” Nadya adds, blunt as ever. “Pretty dick move, honestly.”
“Nadya!” Darya gasps.
“What? It was!” Nadya turns to me, face sincere. “Look, our brother’s got a protective streak the size of Siberia. But if he ever gives you trouble, you come to us. We’ll knock some sense into him.”
I blink at them, thrown by the warmth and loyalty radiating from both. These women—sisters of a Bratva kingpin—are offering to protect me? It’s surreal.
“Thank you,” I say, slowly. “But I can handle Trifon.”
Nadya grins. “I bet you can. I saw you bossing him around when I was bleeding all over his fancy floors. Most people won’t even look him in the eye.”
“That must make for a fun interaction,” I mutter.
They both burst into laughter, Darya wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.
“You have no idea,” she says, smiling. “That’s why we like you. You don’t treat him like a monster. You see the man.”
I think of Trifon. The man who dragged me into this mess married me without warning, then pulled back to let me breathe.The man who panicked over his sister and thanked me like it wasn’t second nature.
“He’s not what I expected,” I admit.
“None of us are,” Darya says softly. “Our world isn’t easy. But we’re still human.”
“Not easy? Our world is a mess! Darya’s not allowed to date,” Nadya adds, earning a scandalized groan from her sister. “Trifon scares off anyone who even breathes near her. Same with me, though I’m sneakier.”
“He’s trying to protect you,” I say automatically—then blink, surprised at my own defense.
“Exactly,” Darya replies, eyes steady on mine. “Just like your parents tried to protect you... by keeping you in the dark.”
The words land like a punch. I hadn’t thought of it that way before.
My family lied, shielded me, and kept me out of their world. Trifon does the same with his sisters. The methods are different, but the motive is identical.
Then Nadya groans. “Enough of this Hallmark moment. Try this on.” She shoves an emerald-green dress into my arms. “It’ll make your eyes lethal.”
***
Two hours later, the sisters are gone, and the house is quiet again. But it’s a different kind of quiet—less suffocating, more thoughtful.
They aren’t what I expected. None of them are. And maybe... neither am I.
Now there’s the gala tonight. A room full of Bratva folks.
The thought makes my stomach lurch.
But I promised Nadya I’d be there.
And I keep my promises.
***
By the time evening rolls around, I’m dressed in the emerald gown Nadya picked out because, of course, she was right. It does make my eyes pop. My hair’s swept into an elegant chignon, courtesy of the stylist Trifon sent. The earrings sparkle. The heels are taller than anything I’ve ever owned.
