Page 31 of The Bratva's Plus-Size Bride

I blow out a breath. I’m really doing this.

“They’re part of the Russian mafia,” I tell her, watching for her reaction. Her eyes flare with surprise.

“How did you get mixed up with them?” Like I said, she’s clever. Only, she can’t even imagine that there’s more to it than some kind of mistake, like I fell into a bad deal with these guys. I’m about to break her world.

I swallow and look past her to the tiled mosaic on the wall. Brace myself for the heartbreak I’ll never recover from. “I was born into it. My family is Bratva too.”

Chapter 16 - Ella

I’ve never even heard the word before: Bratva. It doesn't take a genius to connect the two, to figure out that he’s telling me he’s part of the Russian mafia as well. But my brain rejects the idea. I shake my head and back away from him until I hit the cool tiles behind me.

“What?” But I heard every word clearly, and something deep inside me tells me it’s true. There were small signs the entire time that I chose to ignore. The opulence. The cars. His protectiveness.

“The Milov family is part of the Russian mafia. I didn’t realize another family was eyeing up the area and stepped on some toes. This was all about me. I put you in danger.”

I will never be able to get the image of him beating a man to death out of my mind. The blood, the sounds of bones breaking, the coldness of his eyes in that moment. Despite the heat of the shower, I start to shiver again, but when he reaches for me, I knock his hand away. My entire world is spinning.

“Are you telling me I’ve been working for the mafia?” I thought this was the best opportunity of my professional life, and in reality, I’ve been working for an illegal business. My head starts to spin, and I can’t catch my breath.

“Ella,” he says in that calm, steady voice. The one that I trusted. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I should have told you everything upfront. At first, I thought that you knew that Luka had explained everything to you before he hired you.”

I shake my head because no, he definitely didn’t, and also because I want to deny everything that’s happening right now. I don’t want to believe I uprooted my life for this. Don’t want tobelieve that I'd started falling for a man who was lying to me the entire time. A killer.

“He didn’t tell me anything. And neither did you.” My heart is racing. I can’t breathe. Can’t think.

The shower is stifling and too hot, making my head swim. I fumble with the glass door and push it open. Anton reaches for me, but I slap his hand away, and he doesn’t try again. I grab a towel and rush out of the bathroom into one of the bedrooms, shutting the door behind me and flipping the lock.

Then I slide down the door and collapse into a ball on the floor, hugging my knees to my chest and resting my head between them. I’m basically a criminal. I’ve been working for the mafia. A bubble of laughter escapes and even to my own ears, it sounds borderline hysterical. I’ve done everything by the book my entire life, so how did I end up here?

When the heat of the shower starts to fade, I drag myself to my feet and adjust my towel, realizing I have nothing to wear. The clothes I was wearing are spattered with blood, mostly from touching Anton.

I crack the door and peek my head out. He’s there, facing away from me, having a discussion over the phone in a terse, low voice. I can’t make out the words, and I probably don’t want to. As quietly as I think I’m being, he hears me and turns, ending his phone call.

“There you are,” he says, eyes softening. Part of me still wants to go to him. In the midst of all this chaos, chaos that he’s caused, my body still longs for his.

“I’m just looking for some clothes,” I say, denying my body’s urges as I pass him by and find a fluffy robe in the bathroom. “But I guess this is all I have.”

“They’re bringing our stuff over now.” He leans against the bathroom doorframe, and with the blood washed away, he looks like himself again.

He’s only wearing his towel, so I use the chance to check him over for any wounds. There’s a big, purpling bruise above his hip that makes me wince, and his knuckles are all split and an angry shade of red, but that’s the extent of it. Yet four men are dead. Who is he? I barely know him at all, I realize. And I was ready to give my heart to him.

“I want to go home,” I blurt out, not sure if I mean my new home or the one I left to take this job. There’s nothing there really—a dead-end job, a crappy apartment, a few acquaintances, but at least it’s not… this.

There’s a flicker of something across his face that I can’t quite place, or maybe I don’t want to, because it makes my heart ache. Then it’s gone, and he’s unreadable like usual.

He nods and runs a hand over his jaw. “We’ll fly back early tomorrow.”

Fear pulses through me at the thought of another night here. We’re in a different hotel, but still, I can’t imagine sleeping after everything that just happened, and with the knowledge that I’m basically in the middle of a crime ring now flooding my mind. Is there even a safe place anymore?

Like he can read my thoughts, he holds out his arms to me. I go to him because I can’t say no, and I’m still drawn to him despite all the alarm bells, red flags, and freaking sirens going off. He still feels warm, solid, and safe. Tension melts away when he holds me. Despite the wall I built, he found his way in, and now I have to find a way to shut him out all over again. But not today. Not right now.

I let him cradle my head in his hands and kiss his way across my cheek to my lips. “You’re safe with me, El.”

And I believe it because I watched him in action barely an hour ago, murder four guys with just a knife and a frightening amount of expertise. It wasn’t his first time in a situation like that. It won’t be the last.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I say, wrapping my arms behind his neck, standing on my tiptoes.

He sighs like his answer pains him. “I thought it was safer to keep you in the dark, totally uninvolved. Not knowing anything should’ve been safer.”

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