Page 20 of Arranged to Marry the Bratva

“No one,” Fedor replies, a little too quickly.

"Come on, Fedor," Natalia prods, a mischievous glint in her green eyes. "You can't just leave us hanging like that. Come on! We’re family. You can tell us.”

“Yes, who was she?” Sofia narrows her eyes at Fedor, clearly upset that he might have a woman in his life she doesn’t know of or, frankly, approve of. Sofia, ever the dutiful sister, hardly spends much time in our business. As a result, she’s not aware of the faces like we are but always feels the need to stay up to date. When she’s not, she tends to feel mildly left out.

Fedor chuckles, taking a sip of his drink before replying, "Just a friend called Yelena. Nothing special." He tries to play it down. My gaze quickly flickers toward Anoushka, but she looks straight ahead, sitting quietly, observing the exchange as though they’re discussing the weather. She knows more about Yelena than she’s letting on. The memories flood back of what we witnessed at the wedding between Fedor and Yelena. Frankly, I’m grateful she’s not bringing anything up.

“And how do you… know this friend?” Natalia inquires.

“She’s married to a man from the Bratva,” Fedor shrugs. “A man called Demetrius. See, as I said. Just a friend.”

The minute Fedor says she’s married, most of my siblings lose interest. However, I notice Dima watching Fedor with narrow eyes, clearly unimpressed with his choices in life. Dima is smart. I know he’s probably figured it out.

“Booooring,” Artyom shakes his head. “Our new sister-in-law is going to think there’s no good gossip to go around in this family.”

“Not at all!” Anoushka gasps, clearly embarrassed of having the attention turned back to her. “Besides, as family, it’s way more fun to gossip about others who aren’t us, isn’t it?”

“So, you’re one of us now, is it?” Sofia remarks coldly.

“Well said, Anoushka,” I interject, shooting a warning glance at my siblings, especially Sofia, who seems to be searching for something in Anoushka’s response.

“Yes, but Anoushka is absolutely right!” Natalia interjects sweetly now. “She is an Orlov, after all.”

“And also, a Zolotov,” Fedor reminds us all, bringing a dark cloud over the room. Suddenly, I realize exactly what’s happening.

My siblings aren’t here to genuinely know Anoushka. Most probably, they’re here to grill her, and I’m not liking one bit of it.

Anoushka shuffles in her spot, and I watch her squirm, holding back what I know can be a snarky tongue. Just knowing she’s trying to fit in, when Dima, Fedor, and Sofia are treating her so, makes me almost shake with anger. I take a deep breath and stand. “I think it’s time for dinner,” I declare, leaving no room for argument.

***

The dinner is a tense affair. Anoushka, sitting at the head of the table as the lady of the house, maintains her composure admirably under the scrutiny of my siblings. Natalia and Artyom attempt to keep the conversation light, asking her about her interests, while Dima, Fedor, and Sofia fire off more pointed questions.

"So, Anoushka," Dima starts, his voice sharp. "What did you do before marrying Nikolai?"

Anoushka clears her throat delicately before answering, "I was working with my brother, Boris. I still do, in fact."

“Working with your brother, huh?” Fedor scoffs. “Seems like one sure way to get a promotion.”

Anoushka's eyes flash with a mix of anger and hurt at Fedor's comment. She takes a moment to compose herself before replying, her voice steady. “And what do you do again?”

I can’t help but smile as I watch Fedor hold back a grimace and then accede to Anoushka’s question with a simple nod. “Touché,” he admits; all the while, I feel a surge of pride at how she held her own, without defending herself, simply by pointing out a hypocritical truth of our world.

Fedor does, after all, work for me.

“Either way,” Anoushka adds sweetly now. "We work together because we trust each other. Promotion has nothing to do with it."

“Trust,” Sofia says icily, leaning forward. “And did you trust our brother when you agreed to marry him, considering how you hardly even knew him? Or was it just because it seemed like the right thing to do for the Zolotovs? After all, if not for this union, I believe we might even be at war.”

Anoushka's posture stiffens slightly at Sofia's pointed question and I let out a warning growl. “Sofia,” I say pointedly.

“What, Brother?” she hisses back, sitting back down to sip on her wine. “Are we not entitled to understand the person who enters our family?”

Not wishing to create a scene, I remain silent for now. Although it’s evident to me that Sofia simply wants to pick a fight. Later, I have half a mind to have a strict talking to with her. She has no right to barge into my house and insult my wife this way.

I look over at Anoushka, wanting instinctively to hold her hand, but she’s at the other end of the table. To my surprise, after taking a few seconds to compose herself, she looks directly at Sofia, her gaze unwavering. "Trust is something that grows with time, isn't it? I might not have known Nikolai well before we got married, but every day since then has been a chance to build that trust." Her voice is calm yet firm, a subtle challenge in her demeanor.

Sofia's expression remains cold, but there's a flicker of surprise in her eyes at Anoushka's response. She opens her mouth to retort, but I interject before she can speak. "Let's not dwell on the past, shall we? What matters is where we are now."

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