Page 32 of Used By the Merciless Bratva
“What? I’m her friend. That technically makes me a fellow girlfriend,” he protested.
Marielle and I gave him a pointed stare, making him sigh in defeat before turning around.
With my hand in hers, she pulled me toward the bed, her maroon dress flowing behind her while I followed in my bathrobe. Sitting beside me on the edge of the bed, she quickly turned to face me, her dark eye makeup accentuating her eye movements as she looked me over.
“Do you remember my new last name?” she asked.
“I know it ends in a ‘v.’ Typical Russian name. You know I’m not good with names,” I said with a sigh.
“It’s Yezhov. My husband is Eduard Yezhov.”
The lights came on in that instant.
“The Yezhov Bratva!”
She gave a slow nod in response before saying, “Danil, your husband-to-be, is Eduard’s immediate younger brother.”
I blinked in shock, unable to compose a coherent word or even a thought.
“I don’t know the precise details, but Eduard explained the basic stuff to me. Since your name appeared in the Sivella Holdings file, various enemy groups have become active. They all want the amassed money and information about the company, information that means trouble for the Yezhov Bratva,” she explained.
“And I have to be a victim in this power play?”
“No, it’s not about power, babes. It’s about survival,” she clarified. “If you’re left alone, outside the Yezhovs’ protection, it’ll be too easy for the enemies to come after you.”
“So,” I started, my throat heavy, “I have no other choice? No better way of getting out of this? I don’t want to be stuck in this.”
“Sadly, no,” she revealed, shaking her head, sympathy apparent in her expression.
In that moment, I discovered how exactly I felt—probably how I’d been feeling for a while. The feeling was resignation. There was nothing I could do to change it; I was getting married to Danil Yezhov.
I fell back, my back silently hitting the soft mattress. Marielle did the same, and we burst into giggles.
“Gosh, I’ve missed you so much, babes,” she uttered as our laughter died down.
“I missed you more,” I admitted, sitting up. “How’s married life treating you? I mean, from our phone conversations and what I cansee,it perfectly favors you.”
She sat up. “It does favor me. I don’t know about the perfectly part, though. I’d be lying if I told you I wake up every morning smiling about being married to Eduard. There are times I don’t even want to be in the same room as him. But the assurance that every single thing that matters to me is of utmost importance to him,” she explained, her faraway look graced with a smile. “That’s the beauty of it all.”
“I’m happy for you. Remember, I kept insisting on video calls when I returned from Spain; I wasn’t sure you weren’t just in a Stockholm syndrome phase or that he was coercing you. It was fast, you know.”
“Too fast. But then, it went from being out of necessity to being out of choice,” she revealed.
“I’m glad,” I uttered. “This darling husband of yours is either the white sheep, or Danil is the black sheep.”
She was about to speak when a brief sound permeated the air in the room. She unlocked her glittery purse and brought out her phone.
“Just a few minutes left,” she noted, looking up from her phone. “Thank goodness your dress and shoes are all that’s left.”
She looked to the right, obviously for my wedding dress.
“It’s here,” I remarked, heading for the closet to the left.
“Black? You go, girl!”
I chuckled as she moved closer to unzip the back of the dress.
“Hm. Bougie. I love it,” she commented, running her hand over the fabric of the dress.
