Page 63 of The Bratva King's Claimed Bride

I down another shot of whiskey.

I close the bottle and get up, leaving the office and going upstairs to the bedroom.

I’m not particularly hungry, so I skip dinner.

I strip to my briefs, and I slide into the bed.

Normally, Arina would curl up against my chest, one hand over my heart. Sometimes, she will trace lazy circles on my skin, lulling me into sleep.

The bed is cold and empty now. Her presence was fiery, bold, and noticeable.

I turn on my side and bring her pillow into my arms as though I was holding her from behind. The pillow smells like her shampoo. Coconut.

Coconut and something else I can never put my finger on.

I breathe it in deeply, and a tear escapes my eye.

I will not cry.

I do not cry.

I have not cried for years now.

But a piece of my soul is missing, and I long for her to be back in my arms.

Eventually, drunk exhaustion takes over me, and I doze off into a fitful sleep, only to wake up once again at four in the morning.

My head is heavy with a hangover. I get out of bed and get into a hot shower. I hang my head and let the hot water run on my neck, easing the pressure in my head.

I pick up her shampoo and read the bottle.

Coconut and elderberries. Hmm. I put some on my hand and rub it over my head. I want to smell like her. I want to smell her the whole day.

I use her soap to wash off the slimy, sweaty feeling on my skin.

Once I’m out, I dry off and brush my teeth. I get dressed in a suit and go downstairs to find Matvey and Yvonne already at the dining room table.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Yvonne asks.

Matvey looks up at me, and I nod. “I couldn’t. How soon can we arrange a meeting with Kervyn?”

“My people are trying to set it up for today or tomorrow, but some of them are saying he’s taken a week off to be with family.”

“A week?” I ask, groaning. “We can’t wait a week.”

“I don’t want to push too hard,” Yvonne admits. “I don’t want him to reject the meeting altogether.”

Matvey gets up and goes to the kitchen. “I’ll arrange some coffee.”

“What’s his story?” I ask quietly, sitting down.

“He feels guilty, and he’s worried. He does care about her, too, Igor. We all do. She’s our sister now.” Yvonne reaches for my hand. “And we can’t fight amongst ourselves because then we’ve already lost the war.”

I look into her eyes. My family’s eyes. I nod and say. “I don’t want to fight either. I just want her back, Yvonne. Safe in my arms where she belongs.”

“I know. You two are a perfect match, even if it did start a bit rocky.” She smiles softly. “We’ll get her back, don’t worry.”

Matvey comes back with Marie, who is carrying three piping hot cups of coffee, and I sit back. “Let us make plans then. What will we bargain with when we see Kervyn?”

---