Page 19 of Arranged to Marry the Bratva

“Markov,” I tell one of my associates as we walk down the stairs toward the main hallway. “We need a new rotation on the security detail outside the house. It’s been the same folks for far too long, and I don’t want them getting complacent.”

“Yes, Boss,” he tells me, jotting down the reminder on his notepad.

I part ways with him at the hallway, from where he disappears toward the end of the house to where a door opens at the staff quarters at the back.

I watch him leave and adjust my cufflinks. Tonight, Anoushka let the staff know she’d be eating dinner with me. It’s been three weeks since we’ve been married, and after our day together when she claims I kidnapped her from the office, she’s been slightly warmer with me. We’ve had breakfast together three times, and tonight would mark our first dinner. I’m being patient, but I do wonder why she agreed. Perhaps she’s decided she’s ready to work with me?

The thought sends a thrill through me, knowing that she's slowly warming up to me, letting down her guard little by little.

I turn on my heels and am about to go through the living room when the bell rings. I frown, upset with this disturbance so close to our dinner time. Who the hell is out there threatening to ruin my dinner with Anoushka? To save time and get over whatever matter this might be, I decide to open the door and deal with this myself rather than waste time waiting for the staff to get around to it.

Opening the heavy wooden door, I'm greeted by the sight of my siblings: Dima, Fedor, Sofia, Natalia, and Artyom, each with their own unique expression, none of which is a welcome sight at this moment. I groan and don’t even bother masking my annoyance.

"Surprise!" Fedor, Natalia, and Artyom sing, grinning like children.

“What the hell are you guys doing here? We didn’t have plans, did we?” I say briskly, opening the door to let them through. They step inside, chattering about how they missed me, and the coats come off. To be honest, even though this isn’t what I had in mind for the evening, I can't help but feel a twinge of curiosity at their sudden appearance.

"Brother, we couldn't wait any longer to get acquainted with your bride," says Dima coldly, without a smile on his face. Dima, younger but the oldest of the rest and most cynical of us, never misses an opportunity to seize who he believes to be a threat. From how he greeted Anoushka at the wedding, I’m well aware of just what he thinks of her. His light blonde hair and grey eyes make him an intimidating presence, even among our family.

"You could have called ahead, Dima," I reply, reminding my siblings of the fact that now, things are different. This house is not mine alone, and long gone are the days when they don’t respect my wife’s schedule. “But since you all are here now, follow me.”

Fedor steps forward, his tall frame filling the doorway. "You know we couldn't let you have all the fun of keeping her to yourself, Nikolai," he says, smirking.

"Of course not, Fedor," I respond, shaking my head with amusement at his ever-present need to be entertained.

Behind him, Sofia rolls her eyes, her long blonde hair cascading down her back. "Can we just get this over with?" she mutters, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. I wonder who the mastermind behind this ploy tonight has been. Knowing my siblings, I stake a bet on it being Fedor.

"Always the peacemaker, Sofia," I remark, nodding my head in her direction.

Natalia and Artyom, the youngest of us, are practically bouncing with excitement. “Take us to her!” Artyom declares, like I’m his footman or something.

“This way,” I say, leading them to the dining hall.

I open the door, and six pairs of feet shuffle in. Anoushka, who has her face in a book, looks up in surprise, and the minute she sees everyone, I see her turn pale. She jumps to her feet, book forgotten, and I notice her fidget with her fingers with nervousness. “Oh my god! Hello! I… I didn’t know we were expecting company,” she says in a squeaky, high-pitched voice that’s new for her, and then walks over to greet us all.

“Anoushka, my siblings. They dropped in to surprise us,” I explain, introducing her again to each one. She smiles warmly at each one. Dima shakes her hand, Fedor nods, and Sofia barely acknowledges her while Natalia and Artyom both go in for hugs. To be honest, I feel a mild rise of anger toward the oldest three siblings. If they’re here to meet her, the least they can do is be warmer than the chill they’re offering in this room.

Or perhaps I’m just reading into it because this whole thing feels so unexpected and nerve-wracking. After all, introducing your wife to your family properly for the first time isn’t something I have much experience in.

“Please come in,” says Anoushka, gently motioning toward the dining table. “Maria,” she calls out to the housekeeper. “Please lay out five more dinner places.”

“Actually,” Anoushka turns back to us, her cheeks pink from all the excitement. “I think I should go check in with the kitchen to tell them about the change of plans.”

Here, she pulls me aside and whispers. “Why don’t you take them out to the living room for some drinks? We might need some time on our hands to prep up more food. I don’t think Maria cooked for six,” she gives a nervous chuckle.

“Of course, Anoushka,” I respond quietly. I can see the slight panic in her eyes, and my heart softens at how considerate she is, even under such unexpected circumstances. She could have continued to just sit there, pawning off responsibility on the staff. But instead, she’s taking charge of the house, ensuring tonight goes off as smoothly as she can, all because my family’s here. In this moment, I see a brief glimmer of hope. Without even realizing it, she’s stepping into this marriage, claiming this home, family, and staff as her responsibility. I watch her stride away and direct everyone to the living room.

***

Fifteen minutes later, with drinks in all our hands and Anoushka back in our midst, I go over to the record player and put on some old tunes.

“Ah,” smiles Fedor. “The Beatles. Good choice, Brother. I remember how I had to force your DJ to play some of their songs at your wedding. He insisted they were old-school. I insisted he had no taste.”

Here, everyone laughs.

I smile and go back to join them on the couches.

“Speaking of weddings,” Artyom wiggles his eyebrows in Fedor’s direction. “Who was that brunette you spent most of the night with?”

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