Page 23 of The Bratva King's Claimed Bride

I look at Alfie. “Is the boss in?”

“He’s in his home office, in the library,” Alfie says.

“Excellent, let’s go see him.”

Alfie follows me quickly. “I don’t think it’s wise to disturb him.”

“I think he’ll want to hear my proposal, Alfie, so don’t be scared. He won’t kill us.”

“He might not kill you, but I’m expendable,” Alfie says, stepping in front of me.

“Did he say I could wander around the entire house or not?” I put my hands on my hips.

Alfie looks at me and sighs.

“Where’s the library?” I ask.

Alfie motions down a corridor. “At the end to the right.”

I pass by him and pat his arm. “Don’t worry, everything is going to be okay. I have an excellent deal to propose.”

Chapter 8 - Igor

I’m tired from being up for most of the night. I tried to sleep on the sofa, but I am far too big to fit on it—a reminder to get a different sofa.

At about four in the morning, I went to the kitchen and looked around. The servants had just come in to get ready for the day.

“Sir, how can we help?” Jannie, head of the house, asked.

“I want breakfast early, in my office. My wife will eat when she wakes up.” I said.

I returned to my office without saying anything else and sat at my table, bleary-eyed and yawning.

I cleared some space for the coffee they brought. Thank God for good Russian coffee.

I rub the stubble that’s grown on my face, and I settle back.

Hours pass until Yvonne walks in. I’m on my fourth cup of coffee already.

“She has clothes to wear for today. I’ve asked her for her address so I can fetch her things. Matvey has retrieved her vehicle.” She sits opposite me, pours herself a cup of coffee, and smiles brightly. “She wants to be friends.”

“That’s good. You’re an amazing person to be friends with. She would be lucky.” I drain my cup and sit back as the servants bring my breakfast.

“Are you going to eat?” I ask her, picking up my fruit and starting on that.

She gets up and puts butter and sugar in my porridge. “I will eat with your wife.”

“You’re not going to forgive her easily, are you?” I chuckle.

“She has to work for it. Although she seems genuine.” Yvonne finishes her coffee and sets the cup down. “I should get going, or I’ll be late.”

“Enjoy,” I say.

I turn back to my food. The fruit is good, but I like a hot breakfast—I always have. It reminds me of my mama in Russia. She always made us hot porridge growing up, always with too much butter and sugar, because she claimed we needed the energy.

Once my porridge is done, I eat my cooked breakfast and then wipe my mouth with a serviette before my butler takes the tray away.

I turn back to the reports on my desk. I sent Matvey off to gather some information for me, and I’m waiting for him to come back before I make a decision.

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