Page 61 of Married to the Bratva

“Maybe because I told him not to,” I say as I slide into the chair Maxim pulls out for me. “He already brags enough about himself.”

Andrei roars with laughter, clapping Maxim on the shoulder. “I like her. Feisty.”

“Feisty is one word for it,” Maxim mutters, taking the seat beside me. His tone is low, conspiratorial, and Andrei’s eyes light up with amusement.

“Let’s eat, eh?” Andrei says, waving for the first course. “I ordered for us. Hope you don’t mind.”

The servers glide in, carrying plates with meticulous precision. They set down delicate arrangements of smoked sturgeon tartare adorned with dollops of golden caviar, microgreens, and paper-thin slices of rye crisps. The artistry of the dish makes it almost too beautiful to disturb.

I pick up my fork, stealing a glance at Maxim. His expression is calm, controlled, but the faint tension in his jaw tells another story.Don’t fuck this up,his glare warns.

“So,” Andrei begins, cutting into his tartare with surgical precision, his knife glinting under the soft candlelight. “How did you two meet?”

I freeze for half a second, my fork hovering mid-air. I see Maxim’s jaw tighten ever so slightly. He’s leaving this one to me.

“Well,” I say, injecting a touch of bashfulness into my voice, “he chased me, obviously.”

Andrei’s eyebrows lift. “Chased you?”

I nod, setting my fork down and folding my hands in my lap like I’m reliving a memory. “I wasn’t interested at first. He was very persistent.”

“Persistent,” Andrei echoes, a grin tugging at his lips. “Is that code for annoying?”

“Definitely,” I say, earning a sharp glance from Maxim. “He kept showing up at my favorite coffee shop, pretending it was acoincidence. Then he started sending flowers. So many flowers. Begging notes in every single bouquet, pleading for a shot with me.”

“Begging?” Andrei leans back, clearly enjoying himself. “Maxim, you begged?”

Maxim’s mouth tightens, his eyes narrowing, but he keeps his tone level. “I never beg.”

“No?” I turn to him, a teasing smile on my lips. “What would you call it, then?”

“Strategy,” he says smoothly, his gaze locking with mine in a way that makes my stomach flip. “I knew what I wanted, and I went after it.”

Andrei laughs, slapping the table. “She’s got you wrapped around her little finger, hasn’t she?”

“Only when I let her,” Maxim says, his voice laced with subtext that I can’t quite untangle. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—pride, maybe? Or possession. Either way, it’s enough to make me shift in my seat.

“And now?” Andrei asks, his grin softening into something more contemplative. “You two look happy. Are you?”

The room feels too quiet for a moment. I glance at Maxim, my heart pounding. This is the part where we have to sell it.

“It’s love,” I say, my voice steady. I reach for Maxim’s hand, my fingers curling around his. His grip is warm, solid, and just firm enough.

He doesn’t pull away. Instead, he lifts my hand to his lips, brushing a kiss across my knuckles. “The real thing,” he says, his voice low, smooth, and entirely convincing.

Andrei nods, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “Good. Love makes a man stronger. Gives him something to fight for.”

“Or to lose,” Maxim counters, his tone light but his eyes darker than they should be.

The tension is subtle but palpable, hanging over the table like a storm cloud. Andrei leans forward, his expression hardening. “Speaking of losses, Federico’s been sniffing around again. Made me an improved offer. I’ve been pondering it for a couple of weeks now.”

Maxim’s grip on my hand tightens, just barely. His expression doesn’t change, but I feel the shift in him. “Federico isn’t a family man,” he says, his voice calm but edged with steel. “The only loyalty he has is to himself.”

Andrei raises an eyebrow. “Funny. He said the same about you. Told me you tried to shoot her ex-fiancé the other day. Is that true?”

The air feels heavier, the stakes higher. I glance at Maxim, but his face is unreadable, his focus entirely on Andrei.

“You know what kind of man he is,” Maxim says, his tone steady but unyielding. “And you know better than to believe a word he says.”

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