Page 48 of The Bratva King's Claimed Bride

She slides her arm through mine, and I lead her outside to the limousine.

“Wow, you pulled out all the stops,” she says.

“For you, I would stop the world from turning.” I smile and help her inside the vehicle before I go around to the other side and climb in myself.

She leans against me as the driver joins the traffic. When she looks up at me, I kiss her softly.

We remain silent until we arrive and are seated at our table. The waitress comes over to take our order.

“The house stew for each of us and a bottle of your finest red wine,” I say, holding my hand up to stop her from giving menus.

She nods and hurries off, and Arina smiles at me. “How do you know that’s what I wanted?”

“Tonight, I’m wining and dining you with Russian cuisine.” I reach across the table and take her hand. “I heard what you said to Matvey this morning about being an orphan. I didn’t know about the family you were with, I’m so sorry.”

“And here I thought you knew everything about me,” she teases as she squeezes my hand. She pulls away and fixes her dress. “It’s no big deal. My mom died when I was young after the Milovs had driven her away for falling pregnant with me.”

“Then you were adopted?” I ask.

“By the Maias. I was in the orphanage for a few years before that happened. The Maias seemed welcoming at first, but it turned out they were ruthless.”

“Why adopt then?” I ask. “What’s the point?”

“They basically wanted a maid,” she explains. “Someone to clean up after their real kids, never mind that I was younger than all four of them.”

I nod. “That must have been difficult.”

“The cleaning wasn’t so bad. The starvation and the beatings were on a whole new level. I left the family when I was sixteen, opting to take care of myself. I finished school and put myself through college while working part-time. I wasn’t going to let anything get in my way.”

“How did you know the Milovs were your family? Did you trace them through birth records?” I ask.

“A letter from my mother,” she says. “I still have it. It explains how they drove her off and left her with nothing. My father didn’t even have the decency to offer to support me. I looked my brothers up on social media, and they certainly have lived the high life, especially now that they each have their own families.”

I nod. “I had my own troubles with them in Russia. That’s where I got this from.” I point to a scar on my cheek. “Amongst others. Kervyn Milov was particularly ruthless as a child.”

She reaches for my hand now and I give it to her. “I’m sorry they picked on you. They clearly get it from my father.”

I smile, and we separate as the wine and food arrive.

We tuck into our food, and Arina gives a small groan. “This is so rich and flavorsome.”

“As are most Russian dishes,” I say proudly as I eat.

“What about you? What was your life like growing up?” she asks.

“As with anyone… I guess I had my struggles. I always need to put my family first, which is a constant stress on my mind. And to put them first and give the best to my family, I need to be the best.” I sip my wine. “It can be trying.”

“And lonely?” she asks quietly. “I can’t imagine many people understand what you’re going through?”

I swallow and shake my head. “I’ve never really needed anyone to understand, though now that you mention it, I guess it would be nice.”

“I think your family is really lucky to have you,” she smiles.

We fall into a comfortable silence as we make our way through dinner and then dessert.

We arrive at the opera and offer her my arm to escort her to the box.

As the music begins, I explain it to her softly—the love, the loss, the heartbreak and the reunion. I notice she starts crying at the sadder parts as though she can feel the actors’ heartbreak. I smile.

---