Page 49 of The Bratva's Forced Bride

It turned out he wasn’t. He was downstairs talking to Renat in his home office.

He spends a lot of time there, working, I guess. I wonder how Penny got it so Kervyn doesn’t bring work home. Maybe he does without her knowledge. I don’t see how the man could stop working.

Today, though, today I am off work, and I am craving, no dying for oxtail stew in a rich, thick gravy. Served on some garlic rice. There must be vegetables in the stew. My mouth salivates just thinking about it.

I sit down and make a list before I look up to see Danil getting ready to leave. He smiles at me. “Have a good day off,” he says.

“I will,” I call as he walks out the door.

I grab my car keys and wallet and leave shortly after he’s driven off. I blast Nirvana in my car as I join traffic to drive to the butchery and the grocers. The roads are busy, and I burn through the whole album before I reach the quiet shopping district. Finding parking is a bit challenging, but once I manage, I take out the grocery bags from the trunk and head toward the butchery.

“Miss Lawson, lovely to see you,” Gustav greets me as I walk in.

Out of reflex, I answer, “Oh, it’s Mrs. Milov now.”

I blush slightly, but Gustav claps his hands. “Excellent. Congratulations. What can I get you today? Prime steak? A leg of lamb to roast?”

“Actually, I want to make a tasty oxtail stew. Do you have any?” I look through the glass of the fridges in front of me that keeps the meat cool and sanitary.

“You know it, best oxtail in town. How much?” he asks.

“Four pounds should do the trick,” I say. “Not the too-fatty pieces, please. Can you trim them for me?”

“That’s the best part,” he chuckles, “but I can trim them.” Gustave selects several large pieces and trims the excess fat off them before he packs the meat for me.

I pay, and once I’m done, I go next door to the greengrocers and put the meat in a shopping cart. I push it to the first aisle and start perusing the vegetables there. I check everything I pick carefully, from the bell peppers to the baby potatoes. Everything is carefully selected at its freshest so the stew comes out precisely how I want.

I find an aisle where they sell locally made red wine and check out the bottles before picking out what looks like a woody Merlot. Perfect to cook with and to make a base for gravy.

Once I have everything in my cart, I push it toward the checkout and stand in line.

In front of me is a woman with a baby in her arms—well, more like a toddler. It’s a little boy. He looks at me curiously while his mother singlehandedly unpacks her cart while keeping him safe.

I wonder if that’s what I’ll do. Raise a fierce little monster that I’ll protect with my everything.

She finishes, pays, and leaves with him, and one of the shop assistants pushes her cart full of groceries out, presumably to her car.

I unpack my cart and the young woman at the checkout smiles. “Paper or plastic?” she asks.

“Paper,” I say, unpacking my cart.

“Big dinner?” she asks curiously.

I smile at her. “I have a hankering for some savory, salty stew.”

“I hear you. I get weird cravings as well for no reason.” I want to tell her there’s a very valid reason I have cravings, but for some reason, I’m ashamed. Maybe it’s because I’m picturing being a divorced mother. And I have to leave Vegas because if Danil finds out, he’ll take my baby from me, and I know he can.

“Ma’am?” the cashier asks.

I look at her, coming out of my daze. “Hi, sorry. How much do I owe you?”

She gives me the amount and I swipe my card. I won’t spend a dime of Danil’s money on something for myself, though I should, just to make him suffer.

I pack my bags of groceries into the cart and wheel it toward the door. A kind shop assistant takes over, escorts me to my car, and loads the groceries into the trunk.

“Thank you,” I say, handing him five dollars. “For your trouble.”

He thanks me and hurries off with the cart. In a flash, I’m back in traffic and zooming down the highway toward home. Did I just call it home? It isn’t home; it’s his house. It could never be my home.

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