Page 15 of Claimed By Desire

I follow after them. The interior looks like it was renovated in the last few years with nice, dark hardwood floors and a modern decor. The place is closed to the public, but it’s filled with people from both families.

Nat’s father stands with a group of older man, laughing and talking. Some of them I know, others I don’t. I assume they’re from the Italians. I spot Roman Egorov and Konstantin Pavlov, both extremely high-ranked members of the Zeitsev Bratva, plus several more well-placed lieutenants and soldiers. I know a few of the Italians too, mostly in passing though, and I hang near the front of the room for a moment before making my way to the bar.

I’m not needed anymore.

This is Natalya’s show now. I ask for a whisky and take a sip as I watch Lev awkwardly introduce her to a tall, decent looking man in a dark suit. Her future husband is a powerful member of the Marino Famiglia, the son of the Don, and a successful businessman in his own right.

I understand why this is happening. Natalya’s father wants Marino connections back to the old world. The Federov wing of the Bratva is known for their jewelry deals and fine watches, and the Marino’s have fingers in the European market. It makes sense to mesh the two businesses together, and if thepakhanblessed this arrangement, then he must be happy with it too.

But a deep, primal part of me hates every fucking second of this.

She’s talking with him. They stand at a polite distance and there’s no real spark, and her brother Lev is a part of the conversation, but I’m fucking burning inside.

How does this bother me so much? I knew Nat was going to be married off to the Italians when I went out to get her from Paris, and it didn’t bother me then.

But ever since hearing that song and tasting her that night?—

A part of me can’t let it go.

She’s fucking mine.

But she isn’t, and she never will be, because this is happening.

I slam back my whisky and ask for another. I can’t stand to watch her talking to that man, that fucking stranger, when it should be me in his place. I’ve known her for so long, and he’s a god damn nobody. We had that night together, and we know what it’s like when we drop our guard.

That wasn’t reality though.

That was a fucking fantasy. A puff of god damn smoke, and now it’s gone.

Natalya hates me, and for good reason. I should have told her about Stepan the second I walked into her apartment, and I never should have slept with her, especially knowing she was going to marry someone else.

If anyone knew what we did, we’d both be killed.

I don’t regret it at all, but I had to let it go.

“What’s your deal?” Lev asks, sitting down at my elbow. He nods at the bartender and asks for vodka. “You look fucking depressed.”

“You know I hate these things.”

He grunts and clinks my glass with his. “We all do, bro. I just introduced my sister to the stranger she’s going to marry in a couple weeks.”

“How’d it go?” I ask and immediately regret it. I must sound desperate.

But Lev doesn’t notice. “Awkward as hell, but fine. From what I hear, Adriano’s not such a bad guy, all things considered, and it’ll be good for the family.”

“But will it be good for her?”

He glances at me, eyes narrowing. “Since when did you care about that?” Before I can answer, his expression fades, and he shrugs. “I don’t know. It’ll be fine, I guess. I know how she feels about arranged marriages since she ran out on one already, but this is just how things are. This is how she contributes to the family. We risk our lives every day, and she marries an Italian.”

I take a drink of whisky. Even though Stepan was my best friend, I’ve been close with Lev for a long time too, especially in the last few years. Step’s death has only pushed us closer together, which means I need to be careful, because he might see through my bullshit.

“That’s the best we can do then,” I tell him, turning my whisky in a circle. “If we can give everything to the family, that’s the highest form of honor.”

Lev snorts and punches my arm. “Sometimes you sound like a fucking robot, man.”

“It’s true.” I don’t let his reaction bother me. Step was much more serious than Lev and our views on the Bratva meshed very well. But Lev keeps himself hidden beyond layers of irony andhumor, in a way that makes it impossible for him to give a damn about anything.

“The family is just a family,” he says, staring back over his shoulder. A crowd’s gathering again and hush falls over the group.

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