Page 34 of The Bratva's Plus-Size Bride

The way she smirks says my non-answer was enough. She gets up and gathers the rest of the candy I bribed her with into her purse, then shrugs it over her shoulder.

“No party. I have work tomorrow, remember? With you, in fact.” She prances out of the room, sugar high and self-satisfied and I know I’m never going to hear the end of it from her. “See you tomorrow, lover boy!”

When the door swings shut behind her and I’m left with nothing but my own thoughts, I reach for the liquor bottle. It’s not healthy, but I’ve already spent three hours in the gym today, and that’s the only other thing that keeps me from ripping my hair out over this mess.

Each day I wake up into a nightmare where Ella is no longer in my life. Her smile isn’t the first thing I see at work. I can’t steal a touch, a glance, anything because she’s just not there. Alone, I can’t pretend it’s okay when it’s really, really not.I’m a monster who put my girl at risk, and this is the punishment I deserve.

Anya has given me a dangerous thing—hope. A chance that one day, Ella will walk back in that door. Not that I’ve gone completely without her. No, I’ve given in a time or two to my obsession, driving out to her apartment to watch her shadow pass by the window. It’s the closest I can get to her right now, and it’s not nearly enough, only makes me want her more.

Once, I even risked driving out during the day. It was risky, the chance of her spotting me in the daylight was that much greater, but I managed to follow her to a coffee shop where I got the soul-wrenching view of her job searching on her laptop. I didn’t have to see the job ads to know they were beneath her. Everything was. She should be running a company and living in a penthouse, not barely scraping by working as someone’s secretary.

I hate the thought of that. Her working for some other man when she’s mine. Even though at this point she probably hates my guts and has every right to because when it comes down to it, I lied to her. Why wasn’t I just honest? The answer comes easily enough. Being honest at the jump would have meant losing her before I ever even had her.

The next day, I wake up and do it all over again. I shake off the hangover with a brutal workout that leaves me dripping with sweat, followed by a cold shower to clear my mind. I get dressed, grab the strongest coffee known to mankind, and arrive at the office by eight. Burying myself in work is the only thing getting me by, that and the occasional lunch break trips to Ella’s apartment. The thrill of seeing her, even from a distance, sustains me until the evening when I go home, heat up whatever is in the fridge, and drown my sorrows in far too much booze.

I’m finishing my third coffee of the morning, feeling my heart quicken in response, when she walks in. Ella. I’ve been in this hellscape for so long that I’m pretty sure she’s nothing more than a hallucination, the power of my mind conjuring exactly what I want to see. But the look she gives me is definitely not from my fantasy. Her easy smile is nowhere to be found.

“I’m not promising anything,” she says before I can even say hello. There’s a frown tugging down one corner of her mouth and she’s got her arms crossed over her front like she needs protection from me.

I stand so quickly that my chair thuds against the window, but I don’t care. She’s here. “Of course not. I wouldn’t expect you to.” Even if I’m ready and willing to promise her anything at all.

She looks me up and down. “You look awful.”

It’s so blunt I can’t help but laugh. “I haven’t been sleeping much. Or eating much. Honestly, I’m pretty sure I’m made entirely of alcohol and coffee at this point.”

“You need to take care of yourself,” she says, softening just a hair, just enough to cluck her tongue over it.

Ella is, as always, looking immaculate. She’s wearing a snug skirt and sweater with some heeled, knee-high boots I recognize from our trip to the shoe shop, which makes me ridiculously happy because I bought those for her. Her jacket is still on, like she hasn’t made up her mind about whether or not she’s staying.

“I’ve had more important things to do.” Like pacing the sidewalk outside her apartment while she sleeps because that’s the closest I can get to her.

She twists a loose strand of hair around her finger over and over. I pick up my empty coffee cup just to give my hands something to do because the air between us is strained and awkward, like we’ve completely started over.

“Anya convinced me,” she admits like a confession. “She wouldn’t let it go, actually, until I told her I’d at least give it a chance. Coming back, I mean. She just showed up at my place.”

“She’s like that. She looks sweet and dainty, but she’s a complete bull, ready to knock over any obstacle in her way.”

“A Milov family trait, it seems.”

“Maybe,” I say, lifting one shoulder. “But it got you here.”

“It did.” She drags out the middle of the word like she’s not entirely certain about her decision. “But I have a condition. If you can’t promise it, then I’ll walk out this door and never look back. Even if you can promise it, I’m not guaranteeing that I’ll stay. It’s just a trial.”

“Anything,” I say at once. It’s really happening. She’s coming back. “Anything you need. Bodyguards, armored cars, whatever it is.”

She presses her lips into a thin line and crosses the threshold, taking a seat across from me at my desk. It’s a look I’m familiar with, the one she wears during business negotiations, and I can’t deny it’s pretty hot being on this side of it. Even if it does spell trouble for me.

“Nothing like that.” Then she reconsiders, head tilting to one side. “Well, maybe some of that, but it wasn’t what I was thinking of. I want you to show me all of it. These past weeks, you’ve hidden the dark side from me. The truth of your business and of your family. No more. You have to show me all of it. The good and the bad.”

I open my mouth to argue because she still doesn’t understand how dark it can get. The Bratva world is not for the fainthearted, and I thought if she came back, I’d still be able to shield her from the worst of it, but here she is asking for it.

She holds up her index finger to stop me before I can start. “I can see you wanting to say no, but let me remind you: if you refuse to be fully honest with me, I’ll walk out this door right now and you’ll never see me again.”

Even if I tell her everything, there’s a chance she’ll choose to walk away. I think back to what Anya said, about Ella not being cut out for the world I really live in. Then I look at Ella. After what I put her through, she still showed up here to talk, no, demand that I give her the whole truth. Anya underestimates her, but I won’t. She can handle it.

“Can you do it?” she asks again. “Can you be honest with me this time? Because what you did before—letting me get involved in all this crap without a single warning—that was bullshit. It can never happen again.”

Is it wrong to admit that I like her like this? It’s kind of hot to see the side of Ella that isn’t afraid to call me out.

---