Page 35 of The Bratva's Plus-Size Bride

“It won’t,” I promise, and silently pray that I won’t regret my latest oath to her. It means laying it all out there even when I think something might frighten her, or change her opinion of me. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know and then some. After that, it’s up to you. Your call.”

“My call.” She holds my gaze for three heartbeats, and God, it takes everything in me not to reach across this desk right now and kiss her. “So, let’s get started.”

It’s going to be a long day.

Chapter 18 - Ella

So this is the real world. Now that I’ve peeked behind the curtain, I feel like I must have been absolutely oblivious not to see it before. Is there a single legitimate casino out there? Right now, I’m doubting it. It seems like the Milov family has their fingers in a lot of different pies. Their network is a web reaching across the city. Even Anya is involved, which again, seems obvious now, but makes me gasp when Anton says it.

She’s part of the family, and the brothers do what they can to keep her out of it, but her last name is still her last name. Plus, it seems like she’s chomping at the bit to get more personally involved, a feeling I can’t relate to. Every layer Anton reveals makes me squirm, but I haven’t run away yet, and it really seems like he’s being completely honest.

It’s still hard to trust. After all, he let me walk into this with my eyes shut, and I don’t know if he ever would have told me if that attack hadn’t happened. He would’ve kept me blind, and that’s hard to forgive, even if it was done in the name of protecting me.

I find myself hanging on every word out of his perfect mouth. He opens up as he talks, lounging back in his chair, and I can’t help but note that the big, purple bags beneath his eyes do nothing to detract from his good looks. The man is impossibly handsome. He might be a lying criminal, but he looks good doing it.

We talk until the sun sets, soaking the sky behind him in blood.

“Maybe you should show me,” I say, standing. I’m jazzed from the innumerable cups of coffee we’ve been through so far.

“Show you?” He knits his fingers together on top of the desk. It’s the first pushback I’ve gotten from him. Guess it’s easier to talk about the stuff they’re doing than to really bring me down into it, but that’s a step he has to take if he wants to keep me around. “Don’t you want to wait a minute and let this all sink in? It’s been a lot.”

He’s not wrong, but I’m not about to admit it. If he thinks I’m weak, he’ll back away from our deal or at least find a way to soften it, and I don’t want that. I want the truth.

“I can handle it.” I stand and grab my coat from the back of my chair. “And you promised. You’re not going back on that already, are you?”

I almost feel bad for the way he winces when my words land. Almost. His weeks of lies go a long way toward assuaging my guilt.

“I’m not going back on anything. I just thought you might want to ease into it because it’s a lot to take.” He looks pleased, though, like he’s proud of me for jumping in feet first and that pride is a dangerous thing, because it buoys in my chest and makes me feel ten feet tall.

Do not try to impress a mafia crime boss. It will definitely lead to trouble. But I can’t help it, it’s sparking the same drive in me that loves to make a good deal, the same business mind that drew me to this job in the first place. The next layer of the job might be dangerous, but it’s still business, and I’m finding myself kind of hooked.

I raise my arms up like an invitation. “I’m ready. Show me.”

He sighs and mutters something about gray hairs, which I pretend not to hear, and leads me out of the office. It’s been so long since I was in an enclosed space with him. I shift toone side of the elevator, but the temptation to jump his bones the second the doors close is still there because I’m a complete idiot. What part of the mafia crime boss is not registering? The man is trouble, and even if I choose to keep working for him and his mafia family, I definitely can’t let myself get romantically involved again. That road leads to ruin.

“Are we seriously going to the basement? Isn’t that a bit of a cliche? Keeping your deep, dark secrets in the basement?” I tease, mostly to break the tension. It doesn’t help that every time I look over at him, I catch him looking at me, too, like he can’t keep his eyes off of me.

The doors open, and to my surprise, it’s not the dank, musty basement I was expecting. It’s well-lit with a tiled floor, and the air is surprisingly fresh. More surprising, it’s not filled with people dressed in black from head to toe, wielding two guns at once while wearing ski masks like I had imagined. I might have watched a few too many mafia films after learning the truth from Anton. And my recent browser history has probably put me on some watchlists.

“What are they doing?” I whisper to Anton, slipping my hand onto his arm. He may be a criminal, but he still makes me feel safe—a sentiment I’m not quite ready to unpack.

He winds his way through the serpentine layout like he’s done it a hundred times before, nodding at the few people who look up as we pass. It’s obvious he’s a familiar face down here, even if this is his cousin Luka’s business, and I’m accepted because I’m with him. No one gives me a second glance. Just like that, I belong. It’s a weird feeling, but I don’t hate it. It’s how I feel in an office and pretty much nowhere else, until now.

“Think of it like a warehouse,” he says, stopping in front of a table where I finally see an alarming number of firearms. “We get goods in, we ship goods out.”

“And by goods, you mean…” I nod toward a gun that looks like it belongs on a battlefield, not the streets of any city I want to live in. “That. Guns.”

He squeezes my hand against his side, reassuring me with a touch that I’m safe here. “Yes, but drugs too. And the casino helps us launder the money we take in so that it comes out legitimate in the end.”

“A convenient front,” I say under my breath, carefully skirting the weapons-laden table.

There are all sorts of people working down here, just like in the casino proper. Men and women of all ages. No one is standing over them, menacing them to work more. It just looks like a regular job, apart from the goods they’re handling.

“It is,” he replies, leading me past a group of people packing brown-wrapped packages into crates. I can almost pretend they’re just shipping off teddy bears. “That’s why I’m trying to open a few of them overseas. You need to have a legitimate business, first and foremost, to really get a foothold in the area. Before that, you’re just another criminal fighting for turf. Once we’re established, a whole world will open up for us over there.”

“And that’s your dream.” Because when it boils down, he’s not just a smart, driven businessman. He’s a crime boss in the mafia and his end goal isn’t to make money striking real estate deals. That’s just the first layer. “It sounds so complex. A house of cards carefully stacked.”

He nudges me, and we stop in front of what looks to be a break room complete with comfortable armchairs and vending machines. “And you sound kind of excited.”

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