Page 15 of Paid for By the Bratva

We’re married, yet in this moment, the fact that we’re strangers is glaringly obvious.

We continue the drive in silence, and I can't help but think about my brothers. They have no idea I'm here, married to a man I barely know. The guilt weighs heavily on my chest, making it difficult to breathe.

"Are you alright?" Dima asks, noticing my distress.

"I'm just…" I hesitate, unsure how much I want to share with him. "I'm worried about my brothers. They don't know anything about this."

"They will soon enough," he assures me, his gaze steady and sincere. "We can’t tell them straight away, can we?”

“No,” I sigh in acknowledgment. “We can’t. They’ll get suspicious. But I just hate lying to them.”

“The lying is temporary until we have to make them believe we fell in love. For that, we have to pretend wearein love,” he says.

“What are you suggesting?” I ask, trying to convince myself that this is going to be an easy journey to go on.

"It's better if our siblings hear about the marriage from us than from someone else. They might not understand at first, but they'll come around eventually if we can convince them we were so madly in love that we had to get married before anyone could talk us out of it."

His words make sense, but the thought of facing my brothers with this news still fills me with dread. What if they never forgive me for entering into this arrangement?

"I know you're right," I admit, my voice barely audible. "It's just…I don't want them to be hurt or disappointed in me."

"Then we need to present it in a way that they can understand," Dima suggests. "We need to get to know each other so wretchedly well that when they question us, our love is glaringly obvious. We should know things about one another few people do. We need to work in tandem, develop…chemistry.”

Chemistry.I blush and look away, wondering how Dima hasn’t noticed the effect he has on me so far.

"Fine," I concede, taking a deep breath. "We can start by spending more time together, getting to know each other better."

"Sounds good," Dima agrees, offering me a small smile. "Let's start with lunch tomorrow, just the two of us. We can sneak away somewhere private so no one will see us."

"Alright," I nod, grateful for the suggestion. “Pick me up outside my apartment? My brothers will be out.”

“Perfect,” he says, reaching over and brushing his hand supportively over my knuckles. I close my hand in a fist, suddenly shy.

***

The next day, Dima and I slip away to a secluded corner of the city, where we share a quiet meal. As we eat, I find myself relaxing in his presence, surprised by how easy it is to talk to him. He tells me about Nikolai and how he asked for Anoushka’s hand.

“So, you’re saying he proposed it as an alliance but was secretly in love with her?” I gasp at the scandal. “I wonder if Boris knows.”

“He doesn’t,” Dima laughs, shaking his head. “Or if he does, he pretends not to. Boris is far too proper for that.”

“So he is,” I mutter.

Desert arrives, and he insists I try his too.

“Mmm,” I close my lips, savoring the fresh cream and strawberries.

“You’ve got a little something right there,” he murmurs, leaning across the table to gently wipe a spot of cream from the corner of my mouth with his thumb. His touch lingers for a moment longer than necessary, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Thank you," I manage to say, flustered by the magic of his touch.

***

The sun dips low on the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the city as Dima and I stand side by side on the rooftop terrace. The Philadelphia skyline sprawls out before us, a beautiful backdrop for a private dinner out in town.

It had snowed the previous night, and the entire city looks charming in white.

“So, where did you say you were going tonight?” I ask Dima.

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