Page 158 of Bratva Bidder
“It’s just dinner,” I reply.
He nods, his gaze following the kids for a beat. “Alexei’s good with them.”
“He is,” I say carefully, still studying his face. “They like him.”
Dmitry hums.
“Didn’t think you’d come,” I say.
“I said I would,” Dmitry replies, calm. “Besides, Alexei insisted.”
“He brought the kids a sketchbook,” I murmur, unsure why I mention it.
Dmitry glances at me. “He’s always had a soft spot for children. Even when he was one.”
Silence stretches between us. Not the kind that begs to be filled—but the kind that carries the weight of decades.
“You think this…whatever this is erases everything that came before?” I ask, unable to stop the bitterness from creeping into my voice. I promised Nadya I would be good tonight, but I can’t help myself.
“No,” he says. “I think it’s a start.”
I shake my head, laughing mirthlessly. “You killed everything good in our family and now you want a fucking start?”
He sighs. “I honestly don’t know what I want, Konstantin. If you had asked me a few months ago, I would have said something different.”
“What changed?” I ask.
“It’s not important,” he says, looking away.
I frown. “I think it is.”
“I never wanted you to hate me, Konstantin.”
“You made that choice for both of us,” I say.
He goes quiet. The silence stretches, filled with the music and clinking glassware behind us. He looks like he’s about to say something else. His eyes flicker, jaw tight, and for one strange second I see hesitation—something I’ve never associated with him. He opens his mouth.
“Konstantin!”
I turn instinctively toward the sound of Nadya’s voice, clear and warm like sunlight through a storm. She’s striding toward me, and for a heartbeat the whole world stills.
She’s in a deep crimson dress, one that clings to her curves like a second skin. Her dark hair is swept to one side, soft wavescascading over one shoulder. A single diamond glints at her throat. But it’s her eyes that undo me.
I glance back, but Dmitry is already turning away, the moment shattered. Whatever he was about to say is gone with the wind. I’ll find him later, I tell myself.
“You’re supposed to be greeting people, not brooding with your father,” Nadya teases, slipping her arm into mine.
“I wasn’t brooding,” I lie.
She raises a brow.
“Okay, maybe a little.”
“You clean up nice,” she murmurs with a smile.
“You look like sin wrapped in silk,” I murmur back, and she laughs low under her breath.
“Behave,” she warns.
