Page 43 of Married to the Bratva

“No,” I say carefully, watching him. “It’s not.”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink. Something about the way he’s looking at me puts me on edge, like he’s sizing me up. “Look,” he says, lowering his voice slightly. “Between you and me? I don’t think you’re gonna crack that thing. Not in thirty days. Not in thirty years.”

I bristle, but before I can snap at him, he holds up a hand. “Relax. I’m not saying you’re not good. You are. But that file? It’s a dead end. And you know what happens when Maxim doesn’t get what he wants. You become nothing but dead weight.”

My chest tightens, the weight of his words settling like a stone in my gut. “What’s your point, Dimitri?”

He leans closer, his voice dropping even further. “I can help you get out of this before he kills you. New identity, new life. You disappear, Maxim never finds you, Federico never finds you.Clean slate. I’ve got some money put by. I can front you for a plane ticket somewhere far away.”

My heart skips, and I’m suddenly hyperaware of the small distance between us, the shiftiness in his gaze even as he smiles like he’s offering me a lifeline.

“I’ll think about it,” I manage, my voice unsteady.

“Good,” he says, stepping back with that same cocky ease. “But don’t take too long. I’d hate to see something happen to you.”

I watch him go, my stomach churning until he’s out of sight.

Part of me thinks I should take his deal, get out of here before this world swallows me up and spits me out.

I walk out of my bedroom. To the left is Dimitri and his offer. To the right, Maxim’s bedroom.

I take the right.

A minute later, I knock on Maxim’s bedroom door, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. He doesn’t answer, but I know he’s inside.

I take a deep breath and push the door open. The room is just as intimidating as all the others—dark wood paneling, bookshelves that look more decorative than functional, and Maxim, not in bed, seated at a massive desk, back to me, phone to his ear.

“You’re interrupting a call,” he says flatly, spinning in his chair to face me, hand over the mouthpiece. “This better be important.”

I hold up my notes like a peace offering. “I found something.”

His expression doesn’t change, but I catch the slight twitch in his jaw. “I’ll call you back,” he says before hanging up the phone.

He gestures for me to come closer, and I cross the room, my hands shaking just enough to make me glad I’m holding the papers—they give me something to focus on.

I set them on the desk, flipping through to the section that lays it all out. “Here. These anomalies in the file—they aren’t random. Someone’s been tampering with it, deliberately shifting parameters to slow me down.”

He picks up the page, his eyes scanning it quickly. “Go on.”

“It’s internal. Someone with access to your systems has been siphoning funds and covering their tracks.”

“I don’t need details. Just give me a name.”

“Dimitri.”

He looks up at me, eyes narrowing. “You’re certain?”

“His fingerprints are all over this. I’ve got the bank account the money went to, opened in his name. Plus he just offered to help me get out of here and disappear, presumably worried I might figure it all out.”

For a moment, the room is so quiet I can hear my own breathing. Maxim leans back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him. His silence feels heavier than any words, and I find myself wishing he’d yell or rage—anything but this unsettling calm.

He picks up the phone and hits a button. “Nikolai,” he says down the line. “Bring Dimitri to the basement. Now.”

32

SOPHIE

Ishouldn’t be down in the basement, but when Nikolai and two guards dragged Dimitri past me as I was heading to my bedroom, curiosity—or stupidity—got the better of me.

---