Page 32 of Bratva Bride
I wanted to believe her. Wanted it so badly my chest ached with the wanting. But belief felt dangerous. Hope felt like setting myself up for worse pain when it inevitably got ripped away.
"We'd like to spend time together," Eva said, steering the conversation somewhere safer. "If you want. No pressure. But coffee sometime. Lunch. Just—" She smiled. "—normal things. Friend things. Not bratva wife things."
Friends. When was the last time I'd had friends? Before my father locked me away completely. Before I became too valuable to risk exposing to normal people.
"I'd like that," I heard myself say. The admission felt dangerous. Revealing. But also real.
Clara's expression softened. "Good. Because honestly, being the only woman in a room full of Volkov testosterone is exhausting. Having backup would be nice."
Eva laughed—genuine amusement that made her look younger. "Clara handles Alexei better than anyone I've ever seen. Makes him actually explain his decisions instead of just expecting everyone to fall in line."
"Someone has to," Clara said. "Otherwise he'd just pakhan everyone to death."
The casual way they talked about their husbands—with affection mixed with exasperation—felt foreign. My father had been many things, but never someone I'd laughed about. Never someone I'd describe with warmth.
"Can I ask something?" My voice came out quieter than intended. "Something that's probably inappropriate?"
"Yes," Eva said immediately. "Ask."
I pressed my nails harder into my palms. The pain helped. Made the question feel less impossible.
"Tonight," I said. Just that word. Couldn't manage the rest.
Understanding crossed both their faces. Clara leaned forward slightly.
"The consummation," she said. Not making me say it. "You're terrified."
I nodded. My throat was too tight for words.
"Ivan won't force you," Clara said with absolute certainty. "I don't know what he's told you, what agreements you've made, but I know him. He'd rather violate the treaty than hurt you."
"My father said—" I stopped. Swallowed. "The treaty requires proof. Within a week. Ivan said it wasn’t true, but, If Ivan sends me back untouched, my father will—" Kill me. But I couldn't say that part out loud. Not to these women who'd been kind.
"Ivan was telling the truth. Your father is a liar," Eva said flatly. "And an abuser. And nothing he told you is worth the oxygen it took to say it."
The vehemence in her voice surprised me. Made something hot sting behind my eyes.
"Give Ivan a chance," Clara said gently. "Give yourself a chance. I think you'll be surprised."
I wanted to believe them. Wanted to think tonight wouldn't end in violence or force or my father's threats becoming reality.
But belief required a kind of courage I wasn't sure I had.
"Thank you," I whispered. "For this. For—" Everything. For seeing me. For offering friendship. For making me feel less alone.
"You're family now," Eva said, and her smile was warm enough to melt something frozen in my chest.
Theelevatorrideupfelt like descending into deep water. Pressure building in my ears. Lungs forgetting how to work. Ivan stood on the opposite side of the car, hands in his pockets, maintaining the careful distance he'd kept all day. Twenty seconds to the third floor. Nineteen. Eighteen. Counting down to what came next. What was required. What my father had made very clear would happen tonight or I'd die slowly enough to understand my failure.
The elevator chimed. Doors opened onto Ivan's penthouse—our penthouse now, legally, though it still felt like his space. The city lights painted everything in silver and shadow through those massive windows. Beautiful. Like a cage made of glass and good taste.
My legs carried me inside on autopilot. The ivory silk dress that had whispered all day suddenly felt too tight. Too much fabric between my skin and whatever was about to happen.
Ivan moved toward the kitchen. Away from me. Probably to make tea or give me space or do anything that wasn't what the treaty demanded.
"Wait," I said.
The word came out rougher than intended. Desperate. He stopped mid-step, turned, those gray eyes finding mine across the dark space.
