Page 39 of The Bratva's Innocent Bride

“Calm down, cousin,” Kervyn says, turning so we can watch them go as he takes a sip of whiskey. “I have men all over this place. I’m not risking any security breach tonight.”

My skin prickles. Is he poking fun at the security breach that took place at Noch? Trying to get under my skin about it? My eyes dart around the room, identifying the security and trying to determine if any of them look like they might be about to take me out.

If Kervyn killed me, my brothers would refuse to take over my role. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t someone else in the family who wouldn’t gladly take the spot, grasping at any chance to rise in the ranks.

“Seriously, Boris,” Kervyn says, shifting his eyes to me. “Take a deep breath. What’s the matter with you?”

“I only ask that if you dress me down, you do it in private,” I mutter, the words practically falling into my glass.

“Dress you—” Kervyn starts, then stops, laughing a bit before his face goes serious. “You know what? Sure. Why don’t you come with me.”

My heart rate increases to a brisk gallop as I follow him away from the festivities and into a long hallway far from the party. If he were to shoot me—especially with a silencer—nobody would be the wiser. I take a breath and a shot of my drink, but neither helps to calm me.

“Well,” Kervyn says, coming to a stop. “What do you think?”

When I look up, I realize he’s gesturing to a large painting on the wall.

“What?”

“I thought it was too…mundane for the space. But Pen convinced me that buying from local artists was a good way to stimulate our local economy. If that truly means anything.”

“What are you saying? Aren’t you going to address my failures against Allard?”

Kervyn lets out a little chuckle before finishing the whiskey in his glass.

“I have no clue what’s going on in your neck of the woods, cousin. I trust you to handle your business—and whatever rivals appear in your way—just as I handle mine. According to your weekly reports, the books look good, the fuzz is staying out of your way, and operations are running smoothly. Unless you’re not being truthful in the reports?”

“No—I mean, I would never lie,” I say, clearing my throat. “But you must have read the part about the attack on the community. The little boy?”

“Yes,” Kervyn says, his throat moving in his neck as he glances away from me and back to the painting. “Casualties are part of this world, cousin, and doubly tragic when they come to the youngest of us, but that’s a risk our Family takes on to enjoy the specific comforts of our position.” He takes a breath, turning and gesturing for us to move down the hallway again. “I trust that you’ll take care of that.”

“I just feel like I haven’t been living up to the expectations of the role,” I say.

“Cousin!” Kervyn laughs. “Not everyone can be as great a leader as me. I was primed for the role my entire life, and I’ve had quite a long time to get used to it. You’ve been in your role for—what? Nearly a year now? You have some time to come into yourself.”

For the first time this evening, I finally relax. So, this isn’t all an elaborate ploy for Kervyn to replace me and my entire family. It truly is just a Family reunion.

When Kervyn and I emerge into the main room again, Roman and Anton spot me across the room immediately, their postures relaxing immediately. Kervyn excuses himself to chat with someone else, and my brothers hurry across the ballroom toward me.

“We thought you were a fucking goner, man,” Roman says, breathing hard. “Got here a little while ago, Fiona told us you disappeared somewhere with Kervyn.”

“Yeah,” Anton says.

“Speaking of Fiona,” Roman says, pulling out his phone. “I just over the stuff I was able to find on her—mostly just tragic. Her dad died of an overdose after a decade of misdemeanors associated with his PTSD. Her mother took her own life, the medical records attribute it to postpartum depression.”

Everything I already knew about her. So, she hasn’t lied.

“Anyway,” Roman says, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “When we heard you’d gone back there with Kervyn, we thought we were gonna have to find a new brother.”

“Not that we don’t think you can take him,” Anton says, his eyes tracking across the room before landing on me again. “But you probably couldn’t take him. And you said that thing about tonight being like a performance review—we were thinking about getting our go bags and getting the fuck out of here before we were next.”

“I think,” I say, rubbing my hand over the back of my neck, “that Kervyn’s reputation precedes him. He took me back there to look at a painting. He said I’m doing a fine job.”

“Maybe he isn’t as ruthless as everyone thinks,” Anton muses, looking around as though he thinks the words might summon the man back to our side.

“Or maybe he just saves that shit for the enemy,” Roman says, “it would make sense to avoid antagonizing your Family—why breed contempt from the inside when you have enough of that coming from the external groups?”

“Whatever you say, man,” I say, grabbing a flute of champagne from a passing server and scanning the room. I need to find my girl and make sure she’s not being overwhelmed by the well-meaning Milov women.

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