Page 49 of Married to the Don (Kornilov Bratva Duet 1)

Molly

“Who are you?” Fedor asks.

His voice is similar to Viktor’s, but where Viktor is direct and to the point, Fedor’s voice has an amused lilt to it. Like a cat with a mouse dangling from its claw.

My back is pressed against the wall, and I can’t seem to move or breathe.

It feels like I’ve been tossed into a horror movie, deposited in the middle of my worst nightmare. I’m tempted to pinch myself but that would require movement, which I’m incapable of.

Fedor tips his head to the side, and I finally look away, down to the coffee spilled on the floor.

“Such a mess,” Fedor says, clicking his tongue. He doesn’t sound disapproving or upset. Just a lazy observation. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He may not have meant to, but he’s pleased nonetheless.

“But I would love to know who has the balls to speak to my brother like that.” He takes a step to the side, trying to see my face better.

I turn and walk into the kitchen on numb legs and grab a towel hanging from the oven.

“A maid?” he asks, eyeing the towel.

I don’t correct him as I bend down and sop up the coffee.

He doesn’t recognize me. Fedor has absolutely no idea who I am.

The realization fills me with relief and rage. The two emotions mingle together in my stomach, a nauseating cocktail.

Fedor bends down, one arm thrown casually over his knee, and tries to catch my eye. I go so far as to look at his hand, but I don’t dare meet his eyes.

Not yet. Not until I’m sure he won’t recognize me. Not until I’m sure this house of cards won’t come crumbling down with one solid look at my face.

He has letters and symbols scribbled in ink across the backs of his knuckles and his hands. The tattoos disappear beneath the sleeve of his black-collared shirt. Viktor doesn’t have any.

“You were so talkative a minute ago,” he says, trying to draw me out. “What happened? Are you stunned by my beauty?”

He’s teasing me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was a nice guy. A charmer, for sure, but not dangerous.

Fortunately, I know better.

“Surprised,” I admit quietly. “I was expecting Vi—Mr. Kornilov.”

“You call him Viktor?” he asks.

I shrug and move back into the kitchen, desperate for the space the room provides. I can’t stand in the narrow hallway with Fedor for another second. “Sometimes.”

What is he doing here? If Viktor knew Fedor was getting out, I assume he would have told me. But then again, I don’t know much of anything about Viktor’s plans. I’ve been a bit too busy fucking him to ask any questions.

Stupid. Reckless. Horny.

I should have been plotting and planning. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to become so comfortable in this house.

Then the idea hits me that this could all be a trick. Maybe Viktor told Fedor everything. Maybe Fedor knows exactly who I am, and he’s here to play with his food before he eats it. Maybe Viktor is just outside the door, laughing, waiting until he can come in and they can both reveal the truth and finally get rid of me.

But does Fedor even want Theo?

From the little I know about him, he doesn’t seem like the fatherly type. I would have said the same about Viktor, however, and he has proven me wrong. Theo loves Viktor.

“Call me Fedor,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets and slouching down into a comfortable stance. “I take it my brother isn’t around, then?”

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