Page 66 of Forced Marriage Vows

“That’s how you know it’s real,” Sierra says simply, her mouth flicked up in a smile. “Id be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous. It must be pretty special to be loved by a man like Mikhail.”

Love is a strong word. But I’d be lying if I said my heart didn’t speed up at the possibility.

“Can I see a picture of Jalen?” I ask, just to change the subject.

She eagerly shows me one on her phone and I gasp when I catch a glimpse of the little boy. Any thoughts of a paternity test fly from my mind when I stare down at the adorable kid with bright blue eyes and dark hair.

He looks so much like Mikhail.

We talk for a little while longer and then it’s time to head back home. Sierra follows Lucia and I out of the restaurant. It doesn’t matter anymore if anyone sees her.

“I’ll tell him tomorrow morning,” I say, giving her a warm hug.

He deserves to know the truth as soon as possible, but I want us to have tonight. Just one night for me to make amends. I need to fix our relationship before trying to help him create one with his son.

“Thank you, Anastasia.”

She leaves, and I hug Lucia goodbye as well before walking to my car where Jerome is waiting. It’s clear from the look in his eyes that he caught sight of Sierra.

“If I may ask, who was that, Mrs. Morozova?” he asks a few minutes into the drive.

A friend,” I reply breezily. “You’re not doing a very good job as a spy, Jerome.”

“My apologies, ma’am,” he says quickly, then seems to realize his mistake. “I mean… I’m not a spy. The boss just asked me to bring you home.”

Watching him stammer his way through an excuse is pretty funny.

“It’s fine, Jerome. I’ll just take it up with him,” I say to put him out of his misery.

He lets out a relieved breath before turning his full attention to the drive. I glance at him, wondering exactly what he’s doing in this world. A person only has to take one look at him to know he doesn’t belong here, and yet Jerome seems completely comfortable. It makes me curious.

“Jerome, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, ma’am,” he replies.

“Why are you so loyal to Mikhail? You used to work for him when he was still at the company, right? Why didn’t you just stay there? The Bratva’s really dangerous.”

He smiles and I see his eyes grow warmer through the rearview mirror.

“Trust me, Mrs. Morozova. I know exactly how dangerous the Bratva is,” he says vaguely.

“What do you mean?”

He seems to consider his words before speaking. “I grew up in Chicago. I used to live here with my family—me, my older brother, and my parents. We were incredibly poor. My mom took any job she could find to put food on the table, but myfather spent all of his money recklessly. He used to work back then, a few odd jobs for the Bratva, like drug runs or moving equipment in the warehouses. The thing is, my father was extremely abusive towards us,” he says bitterly.

“I remember always having to hide when he came home. Listening to him throw my mother around, and my brother as well. His name was Eli, my brother. And he always made sure to bear the brunt of the abuse. He protected me. And he ended up dying because of it.”

My hand flies up to my mouth in surprise. “Oh God, Jerome. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, it was hard. Especially after Eli died, there was no one to protect us. I was a scrawny seventeen-year-old kid going to school with broken ribs and a busted lip nearly every day. But I got lucky. You remember I said my father used to do odd jobs for the Bratva? Well, one day he fucked up and misplaced some drugs. Which garnered the attention of some of the people at the top. I’m guessing Mikhail was sent to investigate him, and that opened a whole can of worms. I never got to meet him, but my mom told him he visited her once at the restaurant and coaxed the truth from her. She told him everything, how he killed Eli, the things he’d done to us. He told my mother he’d take care of it. And he did.”

“Mikhail killed your father?” I ask, feeling my heart rate speed up.

“Yes, five years ago.”

“Where?” I ask. “Where was he found?”

“In some dark alleyway a couple miles from the restaurant my mom worked at. He was shot and left for dead.”

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