Page 96 of Owned By The Bratva King

Quinn’s voice is steady. “Always.”

“Then I’m sorry, kid.” He squeezes his eyes shut, the tears running down his face. “Your mom and dad had reasons to live, but I didn’t. Not a single day passed that I didn’t curse myself for what I did. I’ll confess, and thank you for sparing me.”

She looks at him for a moment before standing. “Thank you,” she says. “It was a tragedy for a lot of reasons. I don’t wish you any ill will.”

Her compassion humbles me.

I’ve always dealt with people who wronged me by killing them at the first opportunity, and the one time I didn’t do that, it almost cost me and Quinn our lives. Even my sick world and all its soul-corrupting qualities couldn’t blacken my rusalka’s sweet heart.

“You’re a damn good person, ma’am.” Nathan nods at me. “I’ll play nice, Mr. Kazanov. You don’t gotta worry about that.”

“You’d better.” I take Quinn’s hand. “My wife is a far better person than me. The situation would have gone differently if I’d been in charge.”

“I know.” Nathan smiles for the first time. “Truth is, it’s a weight off my mind. I’ll see out my time behind these walls and be grateful for it.”

Quinn holds her head high as we walk away.

EPILOGUE

Another six months later…

Quinn

Ibrush my hair back from my face, leaving a smudge of paste on my cheek. Wallpapering is more challenging than it looks, but I want to surprise Roman, and he could return anytime.

Carrie’s beachside home is now ours, and we haven’t changed much. Until today, I kept her bedroom untouched.

Now, it’s time to move forward. It’s the first anniversary of her death, and I know she wouldn’t want me to keep the room as a shrine, not when we need the space.

Roman is still bedding in his new role on the komissiya. He’ll never get used to the interminable meetings, but he’s doing what he must to ensure that mob society stabilizes after the Vercotti debacle.

With all the main players out of the picture, things are getting back to business as usual, but Roman decided to take a step back. Leon has been getting his hands dirty and running more of the day-to-day operations without as much oversight from his pakhan, and both men seem glad of it.

My beloved patisserie is my pride and joy. The New York Times led the charge in singing my praises, and we’ve been booked solid ever since. The training school has gone from strength to strength, too.

Hungry Hearts took receipt of a check for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars last week. They’ll use the money to set up a new, safe shelter for families, with more in the pipeline.

It’s been crazy hard work, but I had to get everything to a good place while I could.

Once I tell Roman the good news, things will change fast. My sweet, loving husband is the same unhinged, crazy, protective man he always was, and I can’t expect him to change his nature. I hope he isn’t too angry with me for not telling him sooner.

I hear his car engine outside and almost topple off the stepladder. I get to the door as he opens it, and I laugh to see his legs emerging from beneath a gigantic bunch of pink roses.

“Moya zhena.” His face appears from behind the bouquet, and he kisses me. “There are for you.”

“I should hope so,” I say, smiling as he puts the flowers on the hallway table. “Did you swing by and check on Katrina?”

“Sure. The place was as busy as ever, but she was fine. I reckon she could make your recipes blindfolded.” He looks me up and down. “What have you been up to? You’re beautiful but a hot mess.”

“Yeah, about that.” I head for Carrie’s room, and he follows me inside. “I thought it was time.”

Roman looks around, his brows knitting together. The bed and chifforobe are gone. The walls were a daffodil shade, but my roller rendered them a warm cream, and one wall is almost covered with my choice of paper: a sweet moon-and-stars design picked out on a tranquil dark blue background.

“I should have told you sooner,” I say, anxiously watching his face. “I had to get everything running smoothly at work. And you know how it is at first; I was nervous to say anything in case something went wrong. But I had a scan today and?—”

Realization lights up his features, and he’s upon me, his hands at my waist. He picks me up like I’m weightless and spins me around.

“Quinn!” He gets a hold of himself and sets me on my feet. “Fuck, sorry. I have to be more careful. Oh, man. That’s amazing. Wait. You have to be more careful—Jesus, were you on that step stool?”

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