Page 21 of Bratva Bastard

He forced a laugh, though I could tell that he was struggling to believe he belonged with his family. When he spoke of his brothers before, it was with such pride. But now, he spoke about them as if they were distant cousins, twice removed. I think he wanted to believe, but was scared to allow himself to be vulnerable enough.

“You’ve never really had a family, have you? Being close with your brothers now must be a major adjustment,” I said, trying to relate to him so he’d open up some more. I didn’t know why I wanted to know more about his life, but he intrigued me, captivated me with his stories. And on some level, I felt bad for him. All the wealth and good looks meant nothing if he wasn’t happy with himself, but I think he still viewed himself as thebastardchild of a love affair.

“It is…was.Not so much now. But sometimes I still feel like an outsider. Don’t get me wrong, Misha and Dimitry have been more than accommodating, and even Ivan’s been pretty cool. But they’ve been together their entire lives. I trust them, but I feel separate from them, like I don’t belong where they do.”

He rubbed his face, groaning, refusing to look at me. “God, that probably sounds so stupid,” he said, his voice muffled beneath his hands.

“Not at all!” I scooted closer, taking his hands in mine once more. We’d done that a lot that morning, grabbed one another’s hands. “I know how it feels to be an only child. I mean, I always thought of Gabby like another sister, but at the end of the day, she went home to her house, and I went home to mine. So, I get what it feels like to be separate from those around you.”

His head jerked up—what I assumed was his reaction to my brilliant ability to relate to him but was wrong. “Oh shit, you stayed the night here. What will you do about work? Will they be pissed?”

“No, I spoke to Ribeiro last night, explained the situation.”

“Oh, right,” he said, rubbing his head. “I think I remember you calling him.” I nodded, and Maxim added, “He called you a caretaker.”

I turned away to face my coffee, taking a long sip before answering, “Mhm.”

But when I didn’t say anything further, he nudged me with his arm. “Come on, I told you my story. Now, you tell me yours. Who do you take care of?”

Placing the cup on the side table, I took a deep breath. “My mother has cancer. The hotel management knows I take care of her, so they’re lenient when I need to leave early.”

“But you told them last night that you were taking care of Gabby’s husband’s friend. Not exactly immediate family. Won’t they be pissed?”

“Nah,” I said with a flick of my wrist. “Ribeiro’s a big fan of Gabby, so he’s fine. Besides, they know that I need as many shifts as possible to keep up with my mother’s medication, so if I leave my shift, it’s for good reason.”

He stared at me for a moment, scrutinizing me with his gaze. He cocked his head to the side—something he did often when watching me—and, in a factual tone of speaking, said, “You’re very responsible. A hard worker.”

“Thank you?”

“Very caring and kind,” he continued, so I listened to him list out my qualities like a resume. “You work at a yoga studio in the morning, bartender at night. You take care of your mother in between. It’s incredible. Most women your age are flirting their way into bed with a man, but you’re working your life away to help your mother. It’s very sweet.”

I couldn’t tell if his words were spoken with sincerity or criticism. Maybe a little of both? It wouldn’t be the first time I’d heard it.You’re young, you should be having fun. You’re working your life away.But what else could I do? My mother had to have her medications.

“So what about the boyfriend?” Maxim asked. “Where does he fit into this?”

I sighed.Luiz.The absolute last thing I wanted to talk about.

“Well,” I began, starting from the beginning as he did. “My father disappeared on a job. My mother believes he’s dead, but we were never given any proof, or any solid answer. It was an under-the-table gig, so they weren’t forthcoming with information. Because my father disappeared, my mother raised me alone. I’ve been poor my entire life.”

Saying the wordpoorwas like a punch to the gut. Ihatedthat word, but the truth is the truth, no matter how badly I wish it weren’t.

“That’s why my mother wants me to marry Luiz. He’s an accountant at a bank, who recently got a promotion. My mother believes that he can provide security so I can live the rest of my life without worrying about how to pay the electric bill, or the phone bill. I mean, I get her concern, but marriage is amajorcommitment.”

“So, what about Luiz?” he asked. “You never told me if you love him.”

I looked away, the truth too heavy a burden to bear. But I answered honestly, my voice almost too quiet even for me to hear. “No. I don’t love him.”

Expecting Maxim to smile in triumph, finally having the validity that I didn’t love Luiz, he surprised me when he did the opposite. He looked at me with the saddest expression, it broke my heart just seeing it.

“Then why are you with him?” he asked, less accusation in his tone than I thought there’d be. Instead, he was genuinely curious.Why?The million-dollar question that Gabby and Fernanda also asked.

“Luiz is a good friend and has been for years. He’s a good man, and any woman would be lucky to have a husband like him.”

Maxim’s understanding expression shifted, and he scoffed. “That’s such a bullshit answer,” he snapped. “You’ve sold your soul to the devil by choosing to marry for security instead of love.”

His words were spoken with truth, but they stung me just as hard. My hands balled into fists, and I pushed him away, jumping up from the couch.

“Fuck you! Who the hell are you to judge me? Your mother laundered money and peddled drugs for a living, and I didn’t say shit against her. No judgment, remember? And then you come at me with that? Fuck off. You have no room to judge me.”

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