Page 10 of Bratva Bride
Viktor gives a dry laugh. “That’s the trouble with being legitimate, isn’t it? You’re always one step away from being on your own.” He glances at me over the rim of his glass. “But I find alliances can be made, even now. The right kind, with the right people. Survival doesn’t care about old grudges or new money.”
I study him, trying to see past the mask—wondering how much of his offer is genuine, how much is bait. “If you’re proposing an alliance, you’ll have to be more specific.”
He lifts his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not proposing anything, not yet. I just like to know where my guests stand. Especially those with as much at stake as you.”
Before I can say anything more, I notice a flicker of movement just past Viktor’s shoulder—Anya is weaving her way through the lounge, green dress trailing her steps. She slides into the booth beside Viktor, settling in with the easy confidence of someone who’s used to being at the center of things. She greets him with a nod, then glances at me, her expression bright, but there’s a certain familiarity in the way she sets her hand on his forearm.
Viktor doesn’t introduce her right away. Instead, he pours her a glass from our bottle, and only after she’s taken a sip does he say, “You two seem to have hit it off at the tables.”
Anya smiles, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s a quick learner. Keeps his cards close.”
“That’s the only way to last in this business,” Viktor replies, meeting my gaze. “It helps that Anya and I go back a long way.”
I catch the way she leans into his words, the small quirks in their gestures—too familiar to be coincidence. “She mentioned she runs the floor,” I say, looking between them.
Anya’s eyes glint. “Runs a little more than that.”
Viktor’s lips curve in a quiet, private smile. “My sister has always known how to keep me on my toes.” His tone is casual, as if he’s talking about a business partner, but there’s an undercurrent of pride there. “And if you’ve ever lost to her at blackjack, you know what I mean.”
I look between them, seeing the resemblance for the first time—the same strong jawline, the shape of their eyes, the easy way they seem to read each other without saying a word. It’s there in the little things too—the way Anya takes her glass, the way Viktor tracks her movement without ever really looking away.
Anya catches my studying gaze and gives me a small, amused smile, as if she’s used to this reaction. “Surprised?”
“Not anymore,” I say quietly, tipping my glass in her direction. “It explains a lot.”
Viktor nods once, his eyes musing. “We learned early not to trust anyone outside these walls.”
“I can see that,” I say.
Viktor sets down his glass and leans back in the booth, the mood turning almost relaxed. “You should see the rest of the place,”he says. “It’s not all cards and champagne. Let me give you the tour.”
I glance at Anya, still sitting close to him, her smile quick and knowing. “Your sister already helped me out,” I say, watching her reaction, and for a moment I wonder if Viktor sent her on purpose—if every step since I walked in the door was already mapped out.
Anya’s expression doesn’t give much away, but up close, I notice details I missed in the blur of cards and noise. She’s short—petite, with fine-boned wrists and shoulders that make her seem delicate, though her presence at the table is anything but. Her hair is pale and straight, falling in a neat line to her chin, a striking contrast to Nadya’s wild dark waves. Even her eyes—ice blue, focused—remind me how different women can be, how Nadya would’ve taken in this whole place with one glance and seen past every trick of the light.
I force myself back to the present as Viktor stands, one hand resting on Anya’s shoulder. “You’ve had the Anya tour. But there are parts of this place only I can show you.”
He gives her a nod, then gestures for me to follow. “Come on, Konstantin. Let’s see if you’re really as hard to impress as you look.”
I rise, the unease settling in again, but curiosity pulls me forward. Whatever secrets Viktor is holding, I want to see them for myself.
I push myself to my feet, bracing my hand on the table as I reach for my cane. Before I can even grip the handle, Anya is there beside me, already holding it out.
There’s no trace of pity in her eyes, no forced sympathy or sidelong glances like the ones I get from strangers and, sometimes, even from Nadya. Anya’s look is level, matter-of-fact; she simply acknowledges the reality without letting it define the moment.
“Thought you might want this before you go conquering new territory,” she says, her tone warm but perfectly casual, like she’s handing me a set of cards or a drink.
I take the cane, nodding my thanks, noticing how she neither waits for gratitude nor makes a show of the gesture. Then she disappears back toward the lounge, her posture as self-possessed as ever.
Viktor leads me deeper into the building, the sound of the casino fading completely behind thick walls and carefully placed barriers. The air feels cooler here, quieter, every detail carefully chosen to remind anyone passing through that they’re stepping into territory few ever see. Even the security guards standing watch are dressed in tailored suits rather than uniforms, their expressions carefully blank, eyes tracking us with discreet intensity.
At the end of the hallway, Viktor swipes a key card and opens a door marked only by a small, polished brass plaque engraved with a simple “V.” It swings open silently, revealing a lounge that puts the rest of the casino to shame.
Rich leather sofas are arranged around low tables carved from black marble, polished until they gleam beneath dim, golden lights. There’s no crowd here, only a handful of carefully chosen guests, each quietly absorbed in their own conversation or the soft murmur of negotiations behind closed doors. On one side, a glass wall overlooks a private gambling floor, where selectclients place bets large enough to change lives without blinking an eye.
I pause just inside the doorway, taking in the luxury, the carefully curated atmosphere that practically whispers exclusivity. Viktor moves ahead, turning back only when he realizes I’m still at the threshold.
“Impressed?” he asks, his tone neutral, though I catch the faint gleam of pride behind his eyes. “This is where real decisions are made. Everyone out there thinks they know power, but here it’s more refined, quieter. Subtle.”
