Page 37 of Unwilling Bratva Bride

Plus, there was the damn handheld nozzle. The whole shower was decked out.

And adding to the shit I’d never seen before was the fact that the shower was wall-less. It was completely open, andyou stood on a large square platform, about six inches off the ground, that had a lip of a few more inches to catch all the water.

The wall at the back and all the shower's structural pieces were a swirling marble of white and black. The entire area that could be considered the shower was about seven feet by four feet, and on the marble wall was a large bench built into the back beneath the hot and cold knobs.

The glass walls throughout the rest of the bathroom made it look like I was out in the trees, and the shower was actually butted up against one which featured a sliding glass door. I’d opened it, curious about the temperature outside, and God, I was so glad that it was warm.

With the patio door open, the plants and trees that were there, including those hanging over the house and stretching their branches across to the roof, could spill inside. It was like I was taking a shower outside with all the plants that crowded the patio and decorated the room with their large pots that went right up to the edge of the shower.

The room was alive with green and bright light and the sounds of birds.

When I finished, I switched the water to the handheld nozzle and used it to water all the plants within reach. It did the job perfectly, and the water just drained right into the water without having to worry about cleaning up.

This was by far my favorite thing so far.

Still, there was a lot of house left to explore, and if Ivan and his brothers were out, that’s exactly what I intended on doing.

***

I’d walked the entire upstairs and middle floor when I decided that in addition to checking out the bottom floor a little better, I also needed something to eat.

I knew where the kitchen was, but there was a nagging part of me that didn’t want to stop snooping around until I found more to go on when it came to Ivan’s shady dealings.

I could guess what kind of work he did. Hell, he’d been pretty forthright, but I’d always been naturally curious, and I wasn’t going to be satisfied until I had more evidence that I could see for myself—hold in my hands.

After a few more tries, I found another closed room that wasn’t entirely open to anyone looking. It was near the back corner of the massive house, and when I stepped inside, it looked like an office.

The back two walls were solid at the bottom, with large windows going from the center of the wall to the ceiling. In the center, there was a large desk with a computer and several shelves around it. As I walked up to the desk, I noticed the neat presentation of Ivan’s datebook and supplies. I ran my fingers across the ridges of the planner’s wire spirals.

Sitting in his chair, I studied the top and front of the desk. There were drawers built-in beneath, and I took my rounds opening them. The top was more pens and shit, the bottom was a file drawer that wasn’t used that way, holding a small, black leather bag instead.

I unzipped it, and inside were tools I’d never seen before.

“The hell?”

I picked through them a bit, but all I could guess was that it was used to break into places or something. I had nothing else to go on.

However, when I reached for the smaller drawer above that one, it was locked. My interest peaked, and I searched his desktop for something I could use to get it open.

A small letter opener shaped like a dagger was kept in a small jewelry-like box off to the side. I took it out, feeling the solid weight settle against my fingers. It was a glimmering silver and sharp.

Gently, I slid the point of the letter opener through the thin gap at the top of the drawer. I knew it would do me any good in the lock itself. So, I threaded it between the wood pieces at the top, hoping to be able to move the latch over and disengage it.

In just a few minutes, I heard the satisfying click, and I smiled. I’d figured out how to get into my dad’s desk as a kid, and I was a little tickled to see that those skills were still alive and well.

Inside the drawer were passports, a gun, a small metal box with a combination lock, and a set of handcuffs.

“Jesus,” I whispered.

The passports were all images of Ivan and his brothers, but the names changed on each one. My stomach pinched down, and my worries about the guy’s day job began to solidify.

I took out the metal box and set it on the desk. There were six numbers needed for the combination, and I racked my brain. I didn’t know why I was trying so hard to snoop like this. Ivan had told me to essentially not do this exact thing, and here I was.

Still, I had to know. I needed to understand who I was living with, who’d “bought” me in not so many words.

An image of Ivan’s cheek came to the front of my mind, and I remembered the numbers tattooed there.

“Zero four, zero six, nineteen eighty-one.”

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