Page 45 of Bound to the Bratva
She arches both of her brows, “Russians raised in Britain? Isn’t that a bit odd?”
I’m about to respond when I notice a flicker of movement in my peripheral. In walks my wife, gliding through the restaurant as swiftly as she can. I wonder if there’s a reason she’s moving so quickly.
She goes up to the hostess area and the hostess walks her over to our booth. She thanks the woman and immediately hugs her mother, then comes over to greet me. We share a sweet, normal kiss and her mother smiles brightly, eyes darting between the two of us.
“I’m starting to think this isn’t for show at all.”
Aria whips her head around to face her mother, “Sorry, what?”
Nicolina cranes her neck, “I thought the two of you had a ruse going on. You were trying to one up your father’s by acting like you’re the epitome of love…but it seems as though there is something genuine between you both. I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting it, but I’m not complaining. I’ve always wanted you to be happy, dearest,” Nicolina pauses and looks right at me, “and it looks like you’re very happy.”
Aria smiles and looks at me while she responds to her mother, “I am happy. Surprised, but happy indeed. I think the two of us compliment each other very well,” Aria takes a seat beside me and I throw my arm around her shoulder.
“I’m only just bearing witness to you both together, but I’d say you do compliment each other. Your husband and I were chatting before you got here.” Nicolina explains.
Aria laughs, “Good things I hope?”
I glance down at her and smirk, “Oh, you’ll never know.”
She opens her mouth and leaves it in a small ‘o’. “Come on, you’re not going to tell me anything?”
“How are we supposed to form a friendship if we can’t trust each other? Trust isn’t formed by running along and telling people about private conversations.” Nicolina quips, obviously getting a kick out of this.
We weren’t even discussing anything that shouldn’t be repeated.
Nicolina licks her lips, “I do need to ask, how is marriage treating you?”
Aria cranes her neck, looking between me and her mother. She doesn’t know what the hell to expect from us, and I think I’m going to enjoy this. “Good, why?”
“Oh, someone might have said you weren’t enjoying it.”
“What? It’s fine! The best it could be, honestly.”
I crack up because I see Nicolina is someone who likes to playfully stir the pot. As long as she does it in jest I’m fine, but if she ever tries to do anything out of line I’ll have a bone to pick with her.
Fifteen
Aria
I sit hunched over my desk, paperwork scattered around me as I try to focus on the latest test results. The harsh fluorescent lights of my office cast an unflattering glow, but I’m used to the clinical atmosphere by now. This is my domain, my sanctuary—the place where I fight to save young lives.
A knock at the door startles me for a moment. “Come in,” I holler, curious to know who has decided to see me.
I look up to see my father and brother Dmitri standing in the doorway. Their imposing presence immediately puts me on edge. “What are you two doing here?” I ask, my voice laced with wariness.
My father steps forward, his sharp gaze sweeping over me. “We have news, Aria.”
Licking my lips, I point out the obvious. “Can’t it wait? I’m working, and I really need to get back to it.”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s about the attack on your wedding.”
I feel my heart race at the mention of that horrific event. “What is it?” I ask, my fingers gripping the arms of my chair.
Have they figured out who was behind it? God, I hope so.
Dmitri clears his throat, his usually stoic features betraying a hint of emotion. “I’ll put this bluntly. Before you, there was another woman Maxim’s family was looking at as a potential wife. Apparently, his father had eluded to the fact Maxim would marry her, but instead they chose you. Her family was furious.”
“I bet they were,” I mutter, not understanding why I was chosen in the first place. There’s so much political bullshit behind every decision in the Bratva, and I never wanted to understand it before. Although, now I don’t have much of a choice. My husband will be the leader of the Bratva at some point.
