Page 18 of The Bratva's Innocent Bride

“So, let’s go in.”

“Go in?” he asks, raising his eyebrows, incredulous. “No, I think—”

“Didn’t you say I have free range of Milov properties? So, this would be included, right?”

Ignoring his protests, I walk up to the call box, press the button to let myself in, and jump excitedly as the doors swing open, allowing me to step inside.

It’s a long, winding path that’s clearly meant for a car to traverse, but I’m not turning back now. I take a deep breath of the hot air and start to trudge up the path. Ivan swipes at his brow with a handkerchief.

“On the hottest day of the year,” he mutters, working to keep pace with me.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” I ask, glancing over at him.

“Adventure? This isn’t an adventure, this is—”

“You must be Fiona!” someone shouts, and when I look up, I see another woman running down the front steps to a huge house. It’s large, but not as big as the other house I’ve been staying in. I watch her fly down the steps and come barreling toward me.

“Anya—” Ivan says, but not before she slams into me, rocking both of us backward and nearly knocking me over.

“I am so sorry for my oaf of a brother’s behavior,” she says, shaking her head. “Can you believe I have to explain to him that kidnapping and forcing someone to marry you is bad? It’s like these dumbasses didn’t graduate preschool.”

“These dumb asses?’ I ask, but she pulls away, shaking her head, rolling her eyes, and smiling at herself like she’s forgotten something important.

“Oh,” she says, “my bad—I’m Anya. Boris’s youngest sister. Only sister, actually—youngest sibling, though. I’m rambling! Come inside!”

I glance back at Ivan, who already looks more than irritated, as Anya grabs me by the hand and pulls me inside. It seems like she’s maybe a year or two younger than me. If anyone else were trying to haul me around like this, I would have already started fighting them, but she seems sweet.

“Fiona,” Anya says once we’ve moved through the entryway and into a kitchen, where three men are gathered. One of them is standing in front of the kitchen, cooking something, and the other two are sitting at the kitchen island, nursing glasses of an amber liquid.

I eye the bottle—I could go for a drink right about now.

“I assume you’ve already somewhat met these guys,” Anya says, “but allow me to officially introduce you. This is Roman,” she says, gesturing, “and Viktor.”

“We are very well acquainted,” I say, smiling at Viktor, who glares.

“You put a fucking knife in my leg,” he growls.

“Oh, what’s the matter? You can dish it out, but you can’t take it? I heard that bone saw running in the basement. Maybe you need to up your pain tolerance before someone takes you captive.”

When I’m done talking, the entire room is deathly silent. When I glance around, it looks like all the other siblings are holding their breath, waiting to see what’s going to happen.

Then, Viktor bursts out laughing.

“I don’t know where the hell Boris found you,” he says, shaking his head as he takes a sip of his whiskey, “but I hope he keeps you.”

“Of course he’s keeping her,” Anya whispers, glancing between Viktor and me. “They’re married, aren’t they?”

“Well,” I say, “Actually, I signed Olive’s name during the ceremony. I’d assume that nullifies everything, but I’m not a lawyer, so I have no idea.”

Roman spits out his whiskey, which makes Anya scream and jump backward.

“Disgusting!” she says, which is something I’m noticing this family says a lot.

“God, I’m sorry,” Roman says, laughing. “It’s just that Boris has been having a hell of a time lately.”

“Uh, sis,” someone says, and we turn around to where another man is standing at the stove, wearing an apron that says something in Russian. “Have you forgotten something?”

“Oh, and of course, this is my dear brother Anton, the best of the bunch of them, if I do say so myself.”

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