Page 68 of The Bratva's Arranged Bride

Tia put her heart and soul into every brushstroke, and it showed. After enduring those long painting sessions that stretched on long into the night, mulling over every aspect of those pieces, and dealing with quiet self-doubt that she kept to herself, it all paid off.

Even if I had a lot resting on my shoulders, I wasn’t going to let it preoccupy me. Not when she deserved my undivided attention.

I promised her it would all be worth it, and I fully intended to live up to it.

Tia could’ve had the pick of any over-the-top venue, but instead, she chose a small but elegant one. Everything was clean and minimal to give the pieces the spotlight, and I had the feeling everything was laid out in a way she had been wanting since the day she decided to become an artist.

It didn’t take long for the crowd to pour in, with curious art lovers, critics, and other artists based in the city. The studio space hummed with life and mutual excitement while those many pairs of eyes roved over her hard work.

My whole family was there with their loved ones, meandering around and appreciating Tia’s musings for themselves. I even caught Yuri hyping up some of the paintings with the other bystanders, acting like he otherwise had no connections to the artist.

While Tia’s paintings were the highlight of the night, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe every time I looked in her direction. She had me completely enthralled in that black dress that was both elegant and alluring. She put herself together beautifully, all while showing off those tattoos I adored.

Her smile was warm yet vaguely apprehensive while the occasional person came up to speak with her, asking questions if they had any.

I stayed by her side, beyond proud to have that place myself, and I did my best not to distract her, even if it was difficult to keep my hands to myself at times.

When there was a brief lull in curious viewers, I bent a bit closer to her, murmuring, “You okay?”

Despite the subtle twinge of stress in her eyes, Tia gave me a small smile. “I’m fine…just a little nervous. I’m trying to take it all in.”

I understood where she was coming from, but I couldn’t hold back my warm grin in return. It was endearing to see that contrast in her, and it made the whole event feel even more worth it to me.

Softening, I put a gentle hand against the small of her back. “You look beautiful—and very professional. I’m proud of you.”

At my words, a bit of her anxiousness seemed to slip away, and I could tell it meant the world to her. “Thank you…for all of this. I’m glad you’re here.”

With a pull of my smile, I pressed a light kiss to her temple before murmuring, “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

And I meant it wholeheartedly.

Being able to witness Tia in her moment was a blessing in itself, let alone the fact that I even had the opportunity to help her in the first place.

It was easy to forget myself and everything else going on with those pressures lingering in the back of my mind, but seeing her in her element pushed all of it away. It gave me the chance to wind down and appreciate everything her presence in my life offered me.

I never cared much for art before, but ever since I met her, it looked different to me. I could feel the emotion it evoked, and I had a better capacity to appreciate the hard work that went into the craft.

If witnessing Tia’s process taught me anything, it was certainly a labor of love.

As the evening went on, Tia seemed to settle into a more comfortable state once the initial uncertainty wore off, and the reception was even better than expected.

She spoke to whoever would listen, running into my family members from time to time.

The girls were especially excited to be there, more than ready to provide as much support for her as they could.

I was determined to make sure nothing ruined her night, especially not with tensions being high in the circles I frequented. And in doing so, it meant being more on edge and vigilant. Of course, I asked my brothers to keep an eye out, as well.

Just as I drifted towards the drink table and went to grab something for myself, I spotted a familiar figure moving through the door.

Andrey.

He was dressed up in a tailored suit, looking well-groomed like usual. An air of refinement followed him as it always did, even if there was a touch of uncertainty in his body language.

I zeroed in on him, feeling the immediate rush of anger at him both because of his convenient vanishing act up until that point, and for the newest revelation about him.

It had been far too long since the last time he checked in with me, and our steady partnership was fraying to a dangerous degree.

With as much restraint as I could muster, I held myself back, despite wishing I could confront him head-on in front of everyone.

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