Page 25 of Bratva Bidder
I adjust the cuff of my jacket, keeping my attention on the paperwork in front of me.
“No.”
Lev chuckles low. “Didn’t think so.”
I don’t bother explaining. He knows. Nadya’s not the type to roll over just because she’s out of options. She’s going to fight this the whole way down, whether it’s smart or not.
“But she needs the money,” I add after a second.
Lev studies me for a beat, then shakes his head slightly. “This life’s made you heartless, you know that?”
I glance up at him, my face unreadable.
“Not saying it’s a bad thing,” he adds. “You’re going to need it. Especially when Pyotr starts sniffing around again after he figures out he sold you more trouble than leverage.”
I don’t answer. There’s no point.
Lev’s right about one thing, though—I can’t afford softness. Not now. Not with everything I’ve set in motion. I’ve already made preparations for the fallout this marriage is going to cause. I can’t have second thoughts.
I hear the light click of heels on marble just as the thought crosses my mind.
Right on schedule.
I turn toward the staircase. Nadya is descending slowly, her hand trailing lightly on the banister. She’s wearing a simple white dress—nothing elaborate, nothing dripping in lace or rhinestones. It’s modest enough to be decent but cut close enough to her body that it makes my mouth dry out anyway. Short sleeves, a clean neckline, a skirt that brushes her knees. Elegant without trying to be.
Beautiful.
In a way that has nothing to do with the dress.
I take her in, every stubborn line of her posture, the stiff lift of her chin, the narrowed challenge in her eyes.
“This is what you chose?” I ask, voice dry.
She reaches the bottom step and squares her shoulders. “What kind of wedding happens after sunset?” she fires back. “Should I be expecting a vampire priest too?”
I smirk. “It’s just a civil ceremony. I don’t have time for theatrics.”
“Of course you don’t,” she mutters, brushing past me, the barest hint of her perfume trailing behind her.
I catch it—a warm, slightly sweet scent—and something low in my gut tightens immediately. For half a second, I consider dragging her right back upstairs and showing her exactly what she signed up for.
I close my eyes, inhale deeply, forcing the tension down, anchoring myself.
When I open them again, Lev is standing by the desk, watching me with a bemused grin.
The car ride is quiet. I sit back against the leather seat, watching the city lights blur past the tinted windows. Nadya sits beside me, her body angled slightly away, her fingers flying over her phone. Her brows are furrowed, her mouth tight with whatever conversation she’s carrying on.
She’s distracted. Focused. Like the world outside the car doesn’t exist anymore.
For a few minutes, I let her be. But the longer I watch her, the more the question worms its way into my head.Is she texting a boyfriend? Someone waiting for her back home?
It shouldn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter.
The auction was clear—untouched girls only.
Virgins, if you believed what the brokers swore up and down.
