Page 12 of Paved in Hate

“And who is this?” I ask, nodding at the blonde woman.

Konstantin’s smile falters before he puts it back in place and wraps his arm around her shoulders. “This is my wife, Oksana. I’m afraid her English isn’t all that great.”

“Nice to meet you,” I tell her in Russian, but I might as well be talking to the damn wall for all the reaction I get.

“And you must be Matvey,” Konstantin says, ignoring his wife and shaking Matvey’s hand when he nods and offers it.

Osip comes walking in with a smile. “Perfect, you all made it. Dinner’s ready and then we can talk business.”

We follow them into an ornate dining room. French doors look out onto a veranda that’s lit up with soft solar lights and beyond that I can just make out the edge of an in-ground pool. The room we’re in has a plush rug over dark hardwood floors and an enormous fucking chandelier hanging above the center of the table. Expensive china is already set out for us, and we each take a seat right before several women come walking in with food and bottles of wine. Their uniforms are tasteful but form fitting, and I can’t help but notice that they’re all young and attractive. One of them holds a carafe of sparkling water for the pregnant women, but I gladly nod to the woman holding a bottle of wine.

I can already tell this is going to be a long fucking night. We work on our salads while we make small talk. Konstantin asks questions, but he’s careful to keep the conversation away from business. He smiles and laughs and makes a point of involving everyone at the table. He’s a real charmer, this one, and I’m sure he’s fooled many women into thinking he’s harmless. His wife picks at her food, probably wishing for her next hit of whatever the fuck she’s on, while Konstantin ignores her and we slowly make our way through each course of this elaborate meal.

At one point I look up to see Jolene giving her husband awhat the fucklook, before he gives her a wink while discreetly handing her the correct fork. When she looks back up, I roll my eyes at her, knowing that, like me, she’d much rather have a pizza or a freshly grilled steak than whatever kind of dainty-ass food is on our plates now. She bites back a laugh and stabs at a carrot that’s been carved to look like a rose.

When the dessert is finally brought out, Konstantin looks at us and says, “I don’t like to talk business in front of women, but there is something I would like to propose.”

We wait for him to continue, and what he says next turns my entire fucking world upside down.

“I’ve been doing business in this city for several years now, and I don’t want it disrupted. You five have now taken over the part of the city that I need, and I have no desire to start a war with you. It would be a waste of time, money, and manpower, and meanwhile I’d be losing business. It takes a lot of time to set things up in a brand-new city, and I’d rather avoid that.” He stops to take a drink of wine. “I have a good thing going here. Why ruin that when we could work together? That’s why I’m proposing we unite our families the old-fashioned way.”

I’m too stunned to speak, so when he turns his head to where Matvey and I are sitting, he’s met with silence. It’s taking enough to keep my face blank. I can’t form words and manage a disinterested stare.

“I have a sister,” he says, and my chest starts to feel tight. “And you two are the only unmarried brothers, so I’m offering her to one of you.”

“You have a sister?” Danil asks, and I know he’s buying me time to get my shit together.

Konstantin turns to him and nods. “We do, yes. We’ve worked very hard to keep her hidden. She’s twenty and very beautiful.” Turning back to me and Matvey, he says, “This would unite our families and form a trust between us. Without this, I’m afraid I won’t feel comfortable working closely with your Bratva. I want to know I can trust you. If we’re going to work together, then you’ll need to know details about what we do and how we do it. These aren’t details I freely give.”

“You said you wanted to be a part of this,” Osip reminds us. “This is our offer to make that happen.”

I’m still trying to get my lungs to unclench so I can get some goddamn air. I feel like I’m suffocating and the need to rip the top buttons of my shirt off is overwhelming. If I don’t step forward and do this, then we’re going to lose our one shot at finding Alina. If I don’t say yes, then Matvey will have to, and I can’t fucking do that to him. I can already see the way he’s gripping his thigh under the table. Whatever I’m feeling right now, he’s feeling double.

“So who wants to accept my offer?” Konstantin studies our faces, watching every detail, so I force air into my too-tight lungs and scrub a hand over my jaw.

“Looks like I’m getting married,” I say, nearly gagging on the damn words.

Konstantin smiles at Osip and then looks back at me as he raises his wine glass. “To uniting the families.”

I drink to my upcoming marriage, but it feels more like I’m drinking to my death. What the fuck just happened?

I force out a laugh. “So do I get to meet my fiancée?”

“I’m afraid not,” he says. “It’s our tradition that you don’t see the bride until the wedding ceremony. She’s lived a very sheltered life, and I can promise you that she’s innocent in every way possible. We can have the ceremony tomorrow evening.”

I nearly choke on the wine I just swallowed. “Tomorrow evening?”

“We’ll take care of everything, of course,” he says like my big concern here is whether or not the flower arrangements will be ready in time. “I see no reason to wait. We have,” he pauses for a second while a smile plays at his lips, “a shipment coming in, and we can’t afford a delay.”

We all know he’s talking about an auction of sex-trafficked women, but no one says it out loud. I chance a quick look at Simona, wondering how she’s taking the news. She knows firsthand what those women are going through, but she’s keeping her face as guarded as I am. Danil’s hand is on back of her neck, though, and I’m guessing his other one is on her thigh under the table, comforting her as much as he can right now.

“Tomorrow it is then,” I say, and then I down the rest of my wine and motion for one of the women to refill my damn glass.

The rest of the evening is a blur. My brothers take over, holding up the conversation so I don’t have to, and by the time we say our goodbyes, I’m well on my way to drunk but also feeling like I’m going to vomit all over his nicely pruned rose bushes.

The drive back is quiet. I don’t even have it in me to muster up a joke. I’m too shell-shocked to do much of anything. As soon as we’re back in the penthouse, I grab a bottle of vodka and fill a large glass.

“I’m sorry,” Matvey says, coming to stand by me. “I’m really fucking sorry.”

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