Page 7 of Paved in Hate

“Do you have a problem with this plan, Katya?”

“No,” I whisper while my heart beats wildly in my chest. My only hope is that maybe by some miracle my future husband will be less of a monster than my own flesh and blood. I just need to survive it, I remind myself. Marry whoever the hell this Melnikov guy is and bide my time until I can figure out a way to escape. It’s either that or become like Oksana, and I refuse to allow that to happen.

Konstantin roughly pats my cheek. “Good. Now go to your room and stay there. I’ll let you know when everything is in place.”

My brothers walk off without a backward glance. Knowing I’ve been dismissed, I turn and follow one of the maids to the room that’s been prepared for me while Simeon trails behind us. I thank her as she quickly ducks her head and before I can even ask if she’s okay, she runs off to some other part of this massive house. The large room I step into is beautiful, but I barely notice the comfortable-looking bed and windows that overlook a perfectly manicured lawn. I do notice the click of a lock when Simeon leaves, letting me know I’ve been locked in.

Dropping my bags, I walk over to the window and stare out at the yard that never seems to end. It’s just a pretty illusion, though. Beyond the green grass and line of trees in the distance is an iron fence that spans the perimeter and armed guards walking every inch of this place. Nothing is as it seems, and no one can be trusted. I learned a long time ago that sometimes the most vile of men are the ones that are the most beautiful. That’s why they’re so damn good at it. They disarm you with their charm and good looks, and by the time you realize the man in front of you isn’t who you thought he was, it’s too damn late. The knife is already pressed to your throat and you don’t even realize you’re close to bleeding out.

The men in my world kill their wives slowly. They do it by beating them and cheating on them and humiliating them over and over again. Wives are expendable if they don’t serve a purpose. Oksana knows this. She knows once her dad dies that Konstantin won’t have a use for her. How long until I become expendable to my future husband?

A million questions and fears rush through my head, and I don’t want to face a single one of them. Kicking my shoes off, I dig my sketchpad out and get back to work. It’s the only thing that will quiet the voices in my head and calm my racing heart. I lose myself in my drawing, not wanting to think about how many more nights it will be before I’m forced to share my bed and my body with a complete stranger.

Chapter2

Vitaly

“Sweet mother of god, are you done mother henning this shit?”

Roman looks over his shoulder at me, clearly not amused. “I’m not mother henning anything.”

I laugh and wave my hand around the nursery that we’ve been standing in for the last three hours. “This is the seventh goddamn time you’ve painted that trim. You’re fucking killing me, man.”

He scrubs a hand over his face and looks around the newly painted walls. “I just want it to be perfect.”

Emily chose a robin’s egg blue for the walls, and Roman wanted to surprise her by getting the room painted, but what should’ve been a quick project has turned into an all goddamn day event.

Danil walks by and laughs before stepping in. “Jesus Christ, you’re still working on this?”

“Not you too,” Roman mutters, but then he picks up the paintbrush again and goes to dab at some invisible spot along one of the baseboards.

“He’s fucking lost his mind,” I tell Danil.

Laughing, Danil steps aside so Lev and Matvey can come in. They’d been helping us earlier, but I’m the only one who’s stuck around to see Roman’s transformation from deadly Bratva boss to mother hen. The pictures and video I took have been worth the entire morning I’ve spent in here.

“I’m not sure you’re supposed to do seventeen coats of paint,” Matvey says. “And your wife is getting antsy. She wants to see what it looks like.”

“It looks like her husband’s lost his mind,” I say and then hold up my phone. “I’ll put the photos in the group chat later. I especially like the video I took of him where he almost cries when he accidentally drips some blue paint onto the window trim. He’d looked so sad. It’s fucking hilarious. I want to set it to some really sad music before I pass that gem around, though.”

Roman points a finger at me. “Payback, Vitaly. I’m going to get your ass back for this.”

That really makes me laugh. “Have at it. It’ll be the payback that never happens. Always the uncle, never the dad. That’s my new life motto.”

“I think I said that once, too,” Lev says with a grin that makes it obvious he’s thinking about his pregnant wife.

“Well, what can I say? Some of us stick to our convictions.”

Lev laughs and smacks me on the back. “You keep telling yourself that.”

I’m about to call him a fucker, but Emily’s excited squeal cuts me off. She rushes in as fast as her pregnant belly will allow and throws her arms around Roman. She’s getting bigger by the day and soon she’ll be doing that pregnant waddle. We’re all on high alert because Roman, Danil, and Lev have started reading pregnancy books, and now all five of us are terrified of pregnant women stumbling, early labor, and a million other things that can apparently go wrong during a pregnancy.

“I love it,” she says, spinning around and making Roman’s face pale as he reaches out to stop her fast movements. She laughs and pats his chest. “Babe, I’m not going to fall.”

“The books say your balance could get all out of whack,solnishka. No sudden movements.”

“I knew we shouldn’t have let them read those books,” Simona says with a laugh, walking in to see the walls we’ve painted.

Danil wraps her in a hug. “Did you really think I wouldn’t do research on this?”

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