Page 44 of Immaculate Corruption (Romanoff Bratva)

“And having a newborn, I imagine,” Vera says. “I hear they are rather demanding.”

“Do you have any other children?”

Vera shakes her head. “These are our first. I’ve been anxious to start a family for a while now, but Ilyasov has been so busy building his empire.”

Vera says it so casually. As though she’s discussing her husband’s small business instead of a criminal enterprise. I wonder how much she knows. How much she’s seen. How much she’s done herself.

“And you aren’t worried about what his ‘empire’ will mean for your children?” As soon as the question is out of my mouth, I realize I’ve overstepped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to sound that way. I shouldn’t have—”

Vera leans forward and lays a manicured hand on my knee. “Don’t trouble yourself. It’s a good question.”

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t pry.”

“It’s only prying if I’m not willing to open up about it,” she says. “And I am more than willing. Ilyasov’s activities are a unique challenge for a relationship and a family, but every family has its… challenges, don’t they?”

I think about my own family. As always, it makes me shudder. Like remembering a night terror—it feels distant and vague, but you can never forget how you felt in the midst of it.

“I suppose. But most families struggle with divorce or cancer or financial issues. Not… this.”

“Ilyasov cares for me. He protects me. And nothing will change once ‘me’ becomes ‘us.’”

She sounds supremely confident. And maybe a little naïve?

Or maybe I’m just jaded.

I don’t know which, but I can’t help but look around at the couple’s lavish home and growing family and wonder if something like this isn’t possible for me and Dima.

In my mind, I imagined us living in a bunker, staying away from windows and hiding indoors. But that doesn’t seem to be how Ilyasov and Vera operate. They flaunt their wealth, their power, like there’s not a care in the world.

I want that sense of security for myself.

I’ve spent my whole life without it.

Vera excuses herself to use the restroom, complaining about the babies using her bladder as a trampoline. I sit back on the sofa and pretend I’m not listening in on Dima’s conversation with his brother.

“…There is room for you to stay here. Both of you.”

“Awfully generous of you, Ilya. Especially last minute. Sure there’s not a catch in your offer?”

“What is family for if not to house strays?”

Dima growls. It’s not quite a laugh, but not quite a threat, either. There’s still something happening here that I can’t figure out.

“So what happens now?” he asks.

“You tell me.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re in charge of your own fate now, Dima. The deal is off.”

I freeze. This is not good. This is not good at all.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Ilya? I killed a D’Onofrio. Giorgio’s heir. That must count for something.”

“If only there were silver medals for hitmen. Unfortunately, there’s not. Either you killed the target or you didn’t. Did you?”

“Be reasonable,” Dima snarls. “I risked my life to do what you asked even after you changed the terms of our deal in the first place. Now, you are going to abandon your brother?”

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