Page 53 of Wicked Vows (Suvorov Bratva 2)

I hold my head high.

“Until Liya came along,” she says sweetly. But her tone returns to its usual huskiness as she asks, “Just how long will you lie to yourself about that?”

I wave her away. “Enough.”

After a curt nod, she stands from the chair and collects the tray, shuffling toward the kitchen.

“Viktoria?” I say sternly. “Never mention this again. Understand?”

“Yes, Pavel Sergeyevich.”

And then she disappears.

A hollow silence settles over the living room without her company. It sends me to the hallway, where I walk purposefully to the main bedroom. Liya will be waiting on the other side. She’s probably watching the door to see when I’ll walk in. I’ve caught her doing it a few times.

I can’t talk to Liya about this.

I halt near my office door. It would be so easy to drift inside and get lost in my work.

But I can’t do that.

And I can’t talk to Liya either.

It’s the war, I reason.It’s keeping us from being open with each other.

My features tighten with a grimace, and Viktoria’s words float in my ear.

All I hear is an excuse.

A long exhale soothes my system. I pass my office door, the library, and the guest room with confident strides.

As long as there’s a war, I can avoid my feelings for her.

This marriage issupposedto be about power. Power for us both. Liya’s salvation rested on my acceptance of her into my Bratva. And now that she’s thoroughly planted here, she’s taken on a certain level of responsibility.

I hold the keys to the kingdom, but she carries the crown in her belly. Her child—ourchild—will sit on the throne when he’s old enough to take over. I’ll keep it warm in the meantime.

That was the plan. Thatisthe plan.

And while I’m waiting for that next step to fall into place, I’ll keep the war going.

Love and duty.

Those two words circle my mind, making me dizzy.

I can’t keep a war going forever because it would hurt Liya.

I rest my hand on the doorknob of the bedroom, listening for her soft breathing, for the rustle of the sheets, for any signs of life beyond the wood.

Or can I?

That’s the weight on my shoulders, the ultimate decision.

Liya?

Or the Bratva?

Love?I swallow hard as I open the door.Or duty?

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