Page 43 of Immaculate Corruption (Romanoff Bratva)

Arya may be right, but trauma or not, I put my shit behind me and did what I had to do. It isn’t my fault Ilyasov couldn’t do that, too.

So if he decides to hold that over me and stop me from protecting my family, he’s got another thing coming.

15

Arya

Dima’s brother’s house is on a tree-lined street close to the river. It’s oddly picturesque. Oddly peaceful.

“This is where a big mafia boss lives?” I ask, eyebrows raised.

“It was our parent’s second home,” Dima says. “Ilyasov didn’t get the Bratva, but he got the house. It was a consolation prize, I guess.”

“One hell of an expensive consolation prize,” I mumble.

Dima called Ilyasov twenty minutes ago to tell him we were back in town. If the elder Romanoff was surprised, he didn’t express it on the phone. I could hear the conversation quietly through the speaker.

He simply told Dima to come over. “You know the place,” he’d said.

It’s weird to see it now and picture it as the Romanoff family home. Dima spent time here as a child. Slept in the bedrooms, played in the yard, ran up and down the sidewalks with his brother at his side.

Bizarre to think of him as young and carefree.

As we stand at the front gate, waiting to be buzzed in, I wonder if there are photos of him as a baby somewhere in the house. I can’t even imagine what Dima was like as an infant. It’s easier to think that he just sprang up from the earth, huge and fully formed.

Then the door opens and an older, more weathered, far more tattooed version of Dima is standing in front of me.

“Little brother, to what do I owe the unexpected pleasure?” Ilyasov asks. His eyes shift to me. “And you brought your woman. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Something in his tone makes me shudder. Not just the fact that it’s a bold-faced lie, either. Something about the man himself.

Ilyasov leads us down a hallway, past a grand staircase, and into a sitting room with double doors, large windows, and a very pregnant woman sitting on a sectional sofa.

Dima seems taken aback by the woman. But he hides it quickly. “Vera, it’s nice to see you.”

The woman rubs her belly dramatically and rolls her eyes. “There’s a lot more of me to see, isn’t there?”

“Did I not mention that last time we spoke?” Ilyasov asks. “Vera is pregnant. With twins.”

“Oh my goodness,” I say before I can help myself. “Poor thing.”

Vera laughs, tossing her platinum blond hair over her shoulder. “Thank you. Only women know to sympathize with me. Men always offer their congratulations.”

“Carrying one was hard enough. I can’t even imagine two.”

Ilyasov looks at Dima and gestures to the adjoining room. I can spy a well-stocked bar glistening in the corner. “Let’s talk,sobrat.” The two men leave.

I watch as they go. There’s a weird tension in the air I can’t quite put my finger on. Maybe I’m just on edge being separated from Lukas.

I remind myself why we’re here.So we can end all this shit and be safe.

Even if I can’t bring myself to fully believe that, Dima does. I try my best to follow along—for his sake.

Once we’re alone, I gesture to Vera’s round belly. “How far along are you?”

“Thirty-two weeks,” she says. “Another month before I’m full-term. I waver between being excited and dreading it.”

“I know what you mean. Aside from the aches and pains, the constant peeing, and the heartburn, pregnancy is nice. It’s a lot nicer than labor.”

---