Page 85 of Scars He Gave Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 2)

I laugh as Dad takes the chair next to mine and wraps his arm around my shoulders. “How’s the leg?”

“Sore, but it’s okay.” I told them as little as possible but lying to them has never been a particular skill of mine. So, they know a lot more than Leila or anyone else.

“Tell me again how you got shot.” He purses his lips. Knows I lied.

“Oh, Daddy, it was crazy. Just …” I widen my eyes and shrug. “So crazy, I’ve blocked out the details.” He cocks his head and I wither under his gaze. “Really. I would tell you if only I could remember.”

I put my head on his shoulder again, so I don’t have to look at him. My face is hot, hands are blotchy, and my left eyes twitches every couple seconds. Not only am I a bad liar when it comes to my folks, but my body actually rebels and gives me away. Always has. Made telling the truth is not only easier, but necessary.

He chuckles. “Chicken.”

“I prefer to think of myself as a delicate little lamb. Even a lamb needs self-preservation skills.”

“Delicate little lamb?” The voice is soft, deep, the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. “I heard you bossing my guys around. Didn’t sound so delicate to me.”

I sit bolt upright, take one look at Tommy, and sob. Just once, but it’s relief and happiness.

He’s awake.

“Well, somebody had to, Rip Van Winkle! You were too busy napping.” I pull my lip between my teeth and wait before moving closer. I want to look at him. See his eyes open. See his slight smile that’s as bright as the lights in this room.

He holds out his good hand, crooking his finger at me. “Come here.”

Mom sighs, clasping her hands over her heart. “I knew you guys would find each other again. It’s like a fairy tale.” She helps me to the bed and moves back to put her arm around Dad while I sit beside Tomas on the bed.

“Corrie.” He lifts his hand and tangles it in my hair at the back of my head. “I love you. I should’ve told you sooner. All those years apart, all that time wasted … I’m so sorry. I …” He urges me closer and leans my forehead against his and closes his eyes. “God, I love you so much.”

“Promise it’s not just the pain medicine.”

He pulls me closer so that my chin is on the shoulder bandaged to cover the stab wounds. “I promise.” When I try to pull away because I want to hug him and I’m afraid I’ll hurt him, he holds me. “Not yet.”

So I stay. While he holds me, I breathe him in. Savor the feel of his body.

“Arthur, I know this isn’t how it’s usually done, but I want to ask your permission to marry Corrie.” Even though he’s talking to my dad, I lift my head and he smiles and our gazes lock together. “I know I hurt her before, but if she says yes and you agree, I’ll spend every day for the rest of my life making it up to her. Making sure she knows she’s loved. Cherished. Perfect.”

Dad nods, grinning. “You bet.”

Tomas stares at me. “I don’t have a ring …” He chuckles. “That’s not true. I do. I’ve had it for ten years, but I don’t have it here.”

“That’s okay.” I don’t need a ring. I only need him.

“I didn’t think I’d ever be this happy again.” His eyelids flutter shut, and for one tiny little second, I think my big tough mobster is going to cry. But when he opens them, he pulls his lower lip between his teeth and smiles.

“Corrie, will you marry me?”

There’s only one answer that makes sense. One that will give me everything I’ve ever dreamed of.

Besides, who says no to the leader of the Russian mob?

“Yes, Tommy Dubrovsky. I’ll marry you.”

Epilogue

Tomas

Dr. Borov Hardy, the Bratva’s bomb expert, looks at the briefcase on my desk while Petr, Kostya, Ilya, and I watch him. He circles it, a stethoscope dangling from his neck and a pair of blue gloves swiping along the edge as he examines it.

“I don’t hear a device.” He leans in and sniffs the leather. “Doesn’t smell like a bomb.” He bends to examine the underside and uses one finger to lift it, like if it is a bomb and it detonates, he can afford to sacrifice one digit.

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