Page 18 of BRATVA'S Avenging Bride
They accept it because they have to. Because I'm the heir, and challenging me without proof is a death sentence.
But I see Zeke's eyes narrow when I mention the girls who escaped. See the way Sergei's fingers drum against the table when I explain that the witnesses are scattered, unreachable, irrelevant.
They suspect something. They just can't prove it.
Not yet.
When it finally ends, when the vodka has been poured and the toasts made and the thinly veiled threats exchanged, Emil catches my arm in the hallway.
"That was close," he whispers so only I ca hear.
"It was fine."
"Your father didn't believe you." His blue eyes bore into me, a warning.Prepare for what’s to come.
"He doesn't need to believe me. He needs to trust that I know what I'm doing."
"And do you?" Emil's voice drops. "Know what you're doing?"
I think about Katherine standing at my window this morning, all sharp edges and defensive anger, asking when she could leave.
"Yes," I say. "I know exactly what I'm doing."
He doesn't look convinced, but he lets me go.
The drive back to the penthouse takes twenty minutes. Traffic is light, the city dressed in neon and shadow. I text her from the car:
Still alive. Still standing. Ready for that fresh air?
Her response comes immediately:
If this is a trick, I'll find something flammable.
I smile at my phone like an idiot. Emil, driving, notices.
"You're in deep," he mutters.
"Shut up."
"I'm just saying. I've known you fifteen years. Never seen you smile at your phone before."
"I'm not smiling," I grunt.
"You're definitely smiling."
I am. Fuck.
She's waiting by the window when I walk in, still wearing the black jeans and silk blouse from this morning. Her hair is pulled back, revealing the long line of her neck, the hollow at the base of her throat where her pulse beats.
I want to put my mouth there. Want to feel that pulse jump against my tongue.
"How was your meeting?" she asks without turning around.
"Tedious. Political. The usual theater." I loosen my tie, unbutton my collar. "You ready?"
She finally looks at me, suspicion flickering across her face. I hold out my hand.
She stares at my palm like it might bite her. Then, slowly, she crosses the room and takes it.
