Page 31 of Secret Bratva Twins

She smiled, clearly relieved. “I don’t want to hear about my brother-in-law’s sexcapade, but did you like it? Do you think you two can start afresh from there?”

“No,” I said sharply, and Ms. Popov shot me with a knowing look. “He’s a man high on testosterone. I’m a sex-deprived woman. We just fed our needs, and that is that.”

What a way to go, Gianna. You little liar.

Mariana scoffed. “Sounds like denial to me.”

I glared at her. “Ms. Popov said the same thing to me minutes ago. Why does everyone seem to think I’m in love with Maxim?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” Mariana replied. “And you’re not the only one. The big guy is in love with you.

“Max doesn’t love me,” I exclaimed.

The girls exchanged glances filled with silent communication, I felt a knot form in my stomach. Their words hit me like a cold splash of water, challenging the carefully constructed walls I had built around my heart.

I laughed, this had to be some joke. “He doesn’t love me,” I repeated, my voice barely a whisper. He wouldn’t have broken up with me and abandoned me if he did. “That's... ridiculous."

Giselle leaned forward, her expression earnest. “Gianna, think about it. You and Maxim knew each other before now. You both loved each other, and he spent four years searching for you. And let's not forget the fact that you're wearing his pajamas."

I shook my head, trying to push away the unsettling thoughts swirling in my mind. “That doesn't mean anything,” I insisted, though doubt gnawed at the edges of my resolve. Anyone could wear anyone’s clothes.

Lilianna reached out and placed a comforting hand on my arm. “Gianna, sometimes the heart knows what the mind refuses to acknowledge. Maybe it's time you listened to what yours is trying to tell you.”

Her words echoed in my mind, stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Could it be true? Could I really be in love with Maxim? Not lusting after him or liking him? Not somewhere between hate and love, just love.

I just couldn’t accept there was something between Maxim and me that went beyond mere attraction or convenience. Denial was the only way I could protect myself from getting hurt again. “Can we drop the topic? It’s unnerving.”

“Fine. No more love talk.” Giselle rolled her eyes. “Anyway, we’re here to take you out. It’s our spa day, and we asked for Sergey’s permission to take you along.”

My shoulders sagged. I would really love to go out with them and do girly things. I’d always wanted to know what that felt like. “Sergey? Max won’t let me go out.”

“Sergey is Capo; even Maxim can’t go against him,” Lilianna said. “You’re coming with us after breakfast, and that is final.”

I grinned at her. I actually liked the idea of going to a spa date with them and not curling up in the mansion, thinking of Maxim and what we’d done last night. In fact, I was grateful they offered to carry along, it made me feel less of a prisoner and more as if I belonged here.

“If you insist,” I said with a wide grin. I finished my coffee and munched on Ms. Popov’s tasty omelet and beacon. After I finished, I showered and wore a pair of white slacks and a beige shirt.

We spent most of the day at the spa and the rest of it at a huge shopping mall. Lilianna had booked the entire mall for the evening, which meant no one could enter until we were done shopping. I guess that was the lifestyle a rich mafia boss’s wife lived. My mama had lived that way too, but I could swear her eyes didn’t glint with happiness when she spoke of my papa, at least not as much as Lilianna’s when she spoke of Sergey.

I could be wrong, but they seemed so in love. The other ladies were the same with Nikolai and Vlad, a happy family. I envied them. Even if I wanted, I could never have what they had.

***

I found Maxim in the living room when I came home later that evening. Something about the way he just sat there looking at me made me freeze by the door. He was hot, so incredibly hot that I wanted to scurry over to him, straddle him, and get us both naked.

He had a glass of bourbon in his hand, the sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up, and the muscles on his chest strained against the fabric of his shirt. The view in front of me was what I imagined a studio looked like during a photoshoot. He had a face and body that gave models a run for their money.

But why did he look so upset?

“Hey,” I said cautiously as I entered inside. I sat on the couch across from him. “When did you get home?”

He craned his neck to me in slow motion, and his jaw ticked. “An hour ago.”

“Is everything okay?” I assumed he was upset because I went out with his sisters-in-law. If so, screw him. He wasn’t expecting me to spend the rest of my life locked in like fucking Rapunzel.

He took a sip of his liquor and frowned. “I got a call from your father this afternoon,” he said.

My lungs deflated. “What did he say?”

---