Page 118 of Immaculate Corruption (Romanoff Bratva)

Immediately, I set down my sandwich and bend down to scoop Lukas out of his seat. I clutch him to my thundering chest, certain Vera is here to take him away again.

“What are you doing here?”

She holds up her hands innocently. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”

Usually, I’d trust a heavily pregnant woman was not trying to harm my child. In this case, I don’t trust her for a fucking second.

“What are you doing here?” I ask again.

“I was in the neighborhood, so I popped in to say hello,” she says like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I don’t have the faintest fucking interest in saying anything to you, Vera.”

Vera has the audacity to look hurt by my words. As if she’s surprised I want nothing at all to do with a woman who was responsible for kidnapping my son.

“Truthfully, I’m only here because I’m due any day and Ilyasov wants me at his side in case I go into labor. Isn’t that precious?”

I snarl at her, “Just darling. Now get the fuck out.”

Lukas is starting to fuss in my arms. No doubt he’s feeling the tension that is rolling off of me in waves. I begin to bounce him, humming a soothing song in his ear.

Vera smiles at us. “You’re natural as a mom. It suits you.”

“Is that why you decided to take my son away from me?”

Vera doesn’t answer right away. She flips her long hair over her shoulder, checks her French tips, runs her hands over her belly. “Like I said, I don’t get too involved in Ilyasov’s work stuff. That is his business. He told me what he planned to do, and I told him what I thought about it, but—”

“But you did nothing.” Long repressed anger is beginning to rise to the surface, making my hands shake with rage. “Instead of talking Ilyasov down or doing a damn thing to stop an infant being kidnapped from his parents, you sat at home and did nothing. You’re a fucking bitch. No better than him.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” She presses her painted lips together. “I expected you of all people would understand it isn’t always possible to control the man you love. Especially when that man is like the Romanoff boys.”

“I don’tcontrolDima. I workwithhim. He’s my partner.” I shake my head. “If your relationship is so fucked up that Ilyasov does whatever he wants without any thought for you, then I feel sorry for you. But not sorry enough to forgive you.”

“I don’t want your forgiveness.” Vera’s voice is cold, but her face is blank. “I’m not here to ask for it. Ilyasov did what he felt he had to do and I’m sorry if it hurt you, but I stand by him.”

If the woman wasn’t nine months pregnant, I’d punch her in the face.

How dare she.

“Get out, you two-faced bitch,” I growl. “When we showed up at your house in Chicago, you knew what Ilyasov was planning. What he had already done. You knew that he would betray us, but you treated me like a friend. You welcomed us into your home and played along with your husband’s games without a second thought.”

“I like to be a good hostess,” she says with an easy shrug.

I can’t fucking believe what I’m hearing. “Good hostess? You’re complicit! You’re just as guilty as Ilyasov is in every way, no matter what you tell yourself. You stand by while your husband hurts people for his own personal gain. It’s despicable. It’s disgusting. You are a monster, and I want you out of my house. Now.”

“Yourhouse?” Vera looks around like she expects to see my name painted somewhere. “If that’s the case, then you are just as guilty as I am, Arya.”

Vera isn’t worth the breath I waste talking to her, so I don’t plan to ask her to explain herself. But she decides to continue unprompted.

“I know you’ve been helping Dima complete the Trials. You think your moral integrity is somehow escaping unscathed? Dima has killed people. And you’ve helped Dima. That makes you not so innocent, I think.”

“He killed a white supremacist and blackmailed a corrupt cop,” I bite back. “People who were hurting other people. And he only did it because your husband forced him into this in the first place.”

She shakes her head. “Ilyasov didn’t force anyone to do anything. Dima could have given up power. Isn’t that what you wanted him to do when you two were in Chicago? You wanted him to leave this life behind and be with you and Lukas. You wanted to get your precious baby boy away from this life. Yet here you are. You’re living in his mansion and calling it your own. You’re a hypocrite.”

Her words hit closer to home than I would like. My skin is bright with sweat and my heart pounds so hard it hurts.

“Everything I’ve done was out of necessity. I had to try and make the best of the mess you and your husband left behind. I’m not a hypocrite—I’m a survivor.”

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