Page 63 of The Bratva's Prisoner Bride

Despite Ivan and his family being tense about keeping an eye on my brother’s dealings, everything between us had been so good lately that I wanted some time for just the two of us. We still had several weeks to wait before the baby would arrive, but I wanted to take advantage of that freedom to celebrate us. To connect even further.

So, I decided to plan a secret trip away. As long as everything went according to plan, we’d leave that night, and our things would be there waiting for us.

Ivan had no idea what I was up to, and that was exactly how I wanted to leave it. I knew he wouldn’t expect me to put something like that together, which made it even more exciting.

“I’m just doing my job…and helping a friend. Besides, if Ivan’s happy, then everyone’s happy,” she mused, shuffling slightly on her end, indicating she was switching what side her phone was on. “I’ll pack both your luggage and send them out in a few hours. Everything should go seamlessly as long as he doesn’t suddenly appear.”

Letting go of a relieved breath, I smiled and nodded to myself. “That would be perfect.”

“Is there anything I need to remember to pack?”

Considering her question for a moment, I lit up. “Yes, actually…could you make sure my grey sweater is in there? The chunky knit one…that’s a must.”

Veronica hummed her amusement. “Of course, I already had that one in mind. I know you don’t go anywhere without it.”

“You know me too well. And thanks again,” I murmured, glad to have her in my corner. I didn’t know what I’d do without her. Glancing out the window, I caught as we pulled up to the curb. “I have to go, but text me if you have any questions.”

She promised to do exactly that before the two of us said our goodbyes and ended the call.

Once we reached the building, I got out and thanked the driver while Dom left the passenger seat and trailed behind me, making sure I didn’t leave his sight. He was as quiet and stoic as ever while we entered the foyer and made our way to the elevator.

It was still odd to have someone trailing me wherever I went when I left the house, but I was slowly getting used to it. Ivan explained that it was more for my safety now, given that we didn’t know where my brother was or what his plans were.

Regardless of being somewhat irritating, my even being able to leave the house was enough. Plus, I didn’t mind having someone with me, even if he didn’t speak much.

While the elevator took us up, I unlocked my phone and scrolled through my contacts before finding Olivia’s name. Despite having her number, I still hadn’t reached out to her.

But I was in a good mood since everything else was going so well, and I thought it couldn’t hurt to at least try. Regardless of how she might receive it, I wanted to make amends. I wanted her to see that I was at least trying.

Typing out a casual message asking her for the chance to meet up and talk some day soon, I read it over and sent it before I could lose my nerve.

As furious as she was at me before, followed by her iciness whenever she was forced to be near me, I was holding onto hope that she might forgive me, and for us to at least begin to be friends again.

I knew it would take time for her to become more receptive to me and my attempts to make amends, but I was willing to wait as long as it took.

Putting my phone away, the elevator dinged, and the doors opened, revealing the clean hallway ahead. Dom and I continued on, eventually reaching my studio away from home.

As lovely as the room was at the house, I had quickly outgrown it, and while Ivan didn’t have a problem with offering me as much space as I needed, we both decided it would be better for me to have somewhere away from home to work on my art. Somewhere that made it feel more official—something serious.

The studio loft was perfect and offered me more than enough space to begin painting my first collection. Thankfully, Ivan trusted me enough to let me go whenever I wanted, giving me that freedom while he was busy working.

It was nice having our own things since we were able to come together at the end of the day and connect in a different way, having spent enough time apart to seek each other out again.

Pushing the door open, I made my way inside and took in the space I adored. The ceiling-to-floor windows let in the perfect amount of natural light, and the old brick accentuated by vintage hardware gave it the vaguely industrial yet chic aesthetic I loved.

“When are you expecting the prospective buyer?” Dom asked, standing somewhat awkwardly by the door.

“He should be here in thirty minutes,” I replied, sifting through my blank canvases before grabbing the size I wanted.

Wordlessly, he nodded, then continued to wait like usual, occasionally going on his phone while I started working.

It started out as an unexpected connection, but a man named Sergei Belov was interested in my art and wanted to see more of what I had to offer. Apparently, he was new to the art trade and was hoping to give a new artist a chance.

Even if my focus was on building a collection, I was more than happy to stretch my wings a bit more and see if my art really had that kind of selling power.

Before long, Sergei showed up at the door, and Dom let him in, giving him a once-over. He was quite tall and thin, with neatly groomed hair slicked back. Based on the way he dressed, he certainly looked the part of a wealthy collector.

He pushed the expensive-looking frames of his glasses further up the bridge of his nose while he idly browsed through the finished pieces I had propped up on display for him. Sergei took it all in, humming his approval at times, nodding as ifunderstanding the depth of my work without me needing to explain it.

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