Page 86 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

“After we’re married, she’ll be a Kovalyov.”

“Grow up, boy,” Budimir says, with a wave of his hand. “Taking a name doesn’t make it your own. Do you really think she will forget that you murdered her father and destroyed her home? You’re not marrying her to play house—you’re marrying her to build an empire. She is and always will be expendable to you.”

I can feel my temper flare with every word he speaks. I need to keep my feelings in check, but I keep seeing red.

It doesn’t help that Budimir still does not fucking stop talking.

“But it doesn’t matter what she feels inside,” Budimir continues. “To the rest of the world, she must be a dutiful Bratva wife. And if she misbehaves, you can simply fuck her into submission.”

My fists clench together.

“And if you don’t have the stomach for that, tell me and I’ll do it for you.”

It takes all my strength not to upend the table and punch Budimir in his saggy fucking face.

“You, Uncle?” I manage, as calmly as I can. “I’m surprised your cock even works at your age.”

He chortles, but it cuts off a little too soon to be real. He searches my face.

“Touchy touchy, Artem. I meant no harm. I didn’t realize you had developed… feelings for the woman so soon.”

I scoff. “I haven’t,” I lie. “But Ihaveclaimed her. She is mine and no one else’s cock gets anywhere near her.”

Budimir bows his head, concealing his eyes from me for a moment. “As I said, I meant no offense. I’m just a tired old man out past his bedtime. In fact, I think I’ll take my leave now.”

He puts down the glass in his hand as he stands and offers a quick bow.

Then he’s gone, leaving behind only a ridiculous wad of cash—par for the course when it comes to dear old Uncle Budimir—and a whiff of foul Russian cologne. His men file out behind him.

I frown, surprised by Budimir’s abrupt departure and the manner in which he left.

But I’m not upset about it. I have no interest in enduring any more of his advice tonight.

“Well, you sure know how to kill a party,” Cillian teases, moving to fill the seat that Budimir just vacated.

“It was that or I was gonna punch him in the face,” I tell him. “This was the better option.”

“Whatever you say, bossman,” Cillian smiles. “Now that the old coot is gone, we can let loose.”

22

Artem

Cillian and I spend the next hour in the booth shooting the shit. That is, until the women show up and capture Cillian’s attention.

I, on the other hand, am not keen to entertain their advances.

Or anyone’s, really.

So I sit where I am, smoking and brooding and generally trying not to think of Esme, which of course means she’s the only thing I think about the entire time.

The party dies down slowly, as my men either go off to fuck the hooker of their choice or just drink and snort themselves into oblivion.

Cillian disappears for a bit with a voluptuous blonde.

When he returns, he has the biggest smile on his face.

“I take it she was a good lay?”

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