Page 20 of Married to the Don (Kornilov Bratva Duet 1)

“Viktor?” he asks as though I might be mentally slow. “The owner. The man who gave you the room.”

“I know who he is,” I explain. “But I’d like to know who he is.”

The kid frowns and shrugs. “I mean, I’m not sure how to answer that. To be honest, I don’t know him very well. This is the most time he’s ever spent around this motel. I know he owns a few of them, but I probably can’t say much more than that.”

I tilt my head to the side. “You can’t? What does that mean?”

“It means you should probably enjoy the room and the food and leave it alone.” He smiles. “I don’t mean that to sound rude. It’s just the truth.”

“I’m not good at leaving things alone.” I check my front pocket for the room key and then pull the door all the way closed. “If my kid is sleeping here, I want to know who I’m dealing with.”

The kid steps forward and drops his voice. “Listen, I’m just trying to pay my way through community college. This job works with my schedule, and I’m not looking to get fired.”

“And I’m not looking to get you fired,” I say. “Just tell me his name at least.”

“That I can tell you,” he says, letting out a short sigh of relief. “His name is Viktor Kornilov.”

It’s a miracle I don’t drop the bag of food.

It’s a miracle I manage to smile and thank the redheaded kid and make it inside without my knees giving way.

I know that name.

Kornilov.

A name I’ve remembered and feared and avoided as though it was the boogeyman. As though saying it in a mirror three times would bring out a ghoul or a monster to hurt me. Because he did hurt me.

Not Viktor, but his brother.

I see the family resemblance now. Viktor is broad and menacing where Fedor is lean and charming. But they have the same golden coloring and the same mouths that turn down at the corners. The same mouth Theo has.

I want to grab Theo and run. But I can’t.

For the first time in weeks—maybe months—Theo is getting a solid night of sleep. I can’t take that away from him.

Robotically, I take my food to the small table at the back of the room and unwrap it. It seemed appetizing when I ordered it, but now the thought of it turns my stomach. I can’t imagine eating anything.

I push away from the table, lean forward, and cradle my head in my hands.

Fedor saved me once, too.

I was at a concert a few weeks before I was supposed to head off for college. A man kept grinding against me and wouldn’t take no for an answer. When he got especially rough, Fedor appeared. He was smaller than the man, but something about his presence was menacing, and the creep held up his hands and left. I thanked him, we talked, and he bought me a drink.

Just like Viktor, I thought Fedor was handsome.

How lucky am I?I thought when he asked if he could buy me a drink.

I had one and then another and about the time I tried to cut myself off, Fedor offered me another. “Last one!” he said. “Just one more.”

I agreed and then everything went fuzzy.

Part of me is glad I don’t remember, though I’ve always wondered how it happened. When. Where.

I woke up the next morning in an unfamiliar apartment, alone, confused, and sore. He was asleep next to me as though this was normal. As though I’d wanted this to happen.

At eighteen, I’d only ever slept with one guy before. I never would have gone home with someone right after meeting them, and I never would have agreed to sex.

I snuck out as quietly as I could and tried to forget the entire thing. I didn’t want anything to derail my dreams of college and becoming a designer and making a life for myself. I had wanted to get away from my parents’ fighting and disappointment, and I had a job lined up to help me pay for tuition. I couldn’t let this one event change my entire life.

Then I missed my period and got sick, and everything turned upside down.

I talked to a few people and an officer about the incident and eventually found out about Fedor’s connections. I left the police station knowing I could never tell anyone he was the father. It would put me and the baby in too much danger—because even then, I knew I would keep it.

Now, four years later, here we are again. In danger.

Viktor asked our names. There is no way he doesn’t know who we are, and if he knows, there is no way he doesn’t want something from me. Maybe even Theo.

The thought sends a chill down my spine.

---