Page 51 of Wicked Vows (Suvorov Bratva 2)

“You keep telling yourself that while you play with your wedding ring.”

Shock stings my system, but it doesn’t register on my face. Without looking down, I stop twisting the ring on my finger. It’s merely a placeholder, something to keep my brigadiers off my back, to show them I’m more than capable of advancing this Bratva.

I set my cup down and rest my hands on my thighs. “You’re thinking too much, Viktoria.”

She reclines slightly while keeping her piercing stare on me. “And you’re not thinking enough.”

“I’ve thought plenty about where she came from and where she’s going. She doesn’t need this…” I smooth my hand over my chest. “I have enough for us both.”

She nods solemnly. “To witness her corruption byyou—the same man who swore off love to do what’s necessary for the Bratva—would almost be unbearable, wouldn’t it?”

She’s right.

And I can’t take the way those words lash me.

“I’m at a crossroads,” I admit. “I care about Liya, but I want the best for my Bratva.”

“Love and duty.”

I blink rapidly while fighting the lump in my throat. “Our child should unite those two forces.”

“Should it?”

“Yes—though now I’m finding it increasingly impossible to see those two desires commingling.”

She nods. “Why?”

I part my lips to speak, struck by what I can only assume is a pensive silence. It’s hard to articulate why. It’s hard to say out loud what Liya has become to me.

Sure, I’ve admitted it to Liya. In secret. In my mind. In my goddamndreams.

But it’s different when it’s to someone else.

It’sfrighteningto imagine my feelings for her existing beyond this penthouse.

But they do.

“This marriage has evolved,” I observe. “It’s not about power anymore.”

“It has become love, hasn’t it, Pavel Sergeyevich?”

The lump in my throat eases slightly. “I want to put our child at the head of the Citta Nostra. That was the whole point of the original deal with Jonas. He was the key to us grabbing hold of that power.”

“But now Jonas is dead.”

“The one part of the original plan that came too early. And it changed Liya.”

“Does it change your plan?”

I shake my head. “Not necessarily. My child will sit at the head of the Citta Nostra.”

“But what does Liya want?”

Peace.

I take a deep breath and release it slowly, glancing around the lavish room, the opulent vases, the macabre paintings. Plush carpet cushions my wingtip shoes. Soft cushions cradle my body. It’s as comfortable in here as anyone can afford.

But it’s not the peace Liya wants.

---