Page 23 of One of Them

Nothing I couldn’t handle, but annoying, nevertheless.

This time, I lowered my head and agreed. “Let me know what’s expected of me.”

“Alisa will fill you in. We’ll meet up later to discuss the details. We have a party and an after-party to get to,” Ilya reminded us of the plan for the day.

His fiancée took that as a dismissal and was the first to stand from the table.

I happily ignored Malek’s attempts to flag me down, following her out of the room, grateful for the meeting to be over.

We settled back at the bar, ordering a round. When the bartender placed the drinks down, I faced the bride.

“You and I will get along just fine. It’s the rest of them I worry about.” I pointed toward the men, still sitting at the table.

“My brothers tend to be a little extra.” Alisa rolled her eyes. “They’re overprotective as heck.”

Once aware of her slip, she covered her mouth in shock, eyes wide. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I should at least pretend to have some manners.”

“Just be yourself. No pretending.” I gave her a quick smile. “But I need to know. Are you sure you want to do this? It’s not too late to cancel.”

She nodded swiftly, almost too fast. “I’m certain, but thank you.”

“In that case, what do you need my help with? I know nothing about weddings. This will be my first.”

Shock crossed her soft features. “You’ve never attended a wedding?”

I swallowed the liquid. “I’m not one for socializing.”

Alisa didn’t pry. Instead, she led the way. “Lucky for you, I have everything planned. I’ve been dreaming about it for years: the dress, the decor, even the venue. Perfection,” she emphasized the word. “I refuse to settle for less. It’ll make all the other weddings look like a carnival compared to mine.”

Sounds easy enough, I thought. “Best first wedding I’ll ever go to,” I said, raising my glass.

“Guaranteed.”

I made my first female friend at the age of twenty-three.

The unofficial part of the engagement party was on schedule for the night. Held at a new location with a significantly reduced guest list, I walked down the block, the city’s sounds blending with the click of my high heels.

After a quick stop at home to change, I was more than ready to enjoy the night.

Neon signs led me to a Bratva-owned nightclub in a more prominent part of town. I knew the layout and the clientele here all too well. I often came for a drink, but mostly to dance.

The combination of the two usually led to heated touches exchanged with strangers.

A safe ground for members and allies, it was where I thrived.My playground.

The space also served as a meeting point for settling business deals.

Bratva’s problems were solved upstairs and illuminated downstairs. Everyone knew not to get involved, to keep your mouth shut or face retribution.

As usual, the music blared at full blast, and people scattered across the three-story building as I entered. The VIP area on the upper floor was reserved for the elite. Money didn’t guarantee entry; it was a perk of your position. An invitation wasn’t enough under normal circumstances. Today, however, the floor was reserved for a select few. With a nod to the bodyguards stationed at the entrance, I made my way up the stairs. There, on huge leather couches, two groups of guests were celebrating.

The mood was surprisingly light, with laughter and the promise of a good time echoing in the air. At the end of the day, we were all just grown-up kids looking for an excuse to party. All eager to escape the ugliness of the day.

I was no exception.

“Stranger,” Enzo called out from the bar, and I grinned at the predictability of his location.

He’s always been my go-to in crowds, a beacon I followed. We arrived together and often left together, though not always, given Enzo’s late-night activities.

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