Page 34 of Shattered Cradle (Makarova Bratva Duet)

“What does that mean?”

“Look at your life. Good childhood, loving parents, protective older siblings. You went to a good college, had a good job.”

“Why does all that feel like an insult?”

“It’s not. I’m just pointing out that this lifestyle, the Bratva way, is not for everyone. You’ve never had to morph who you are and what you want to survive. Your life has never depended—truly depended, life or death—on you saying the right thing at the right time. Assimilating to that way of thinking is harder than you can possibly imagine.”

Her expression sours and she turns away from me for a moment. “What kind of life did Jennifer have before this?”

“That’s not my story to tell,” I say firmly. “But she chose the Bratva because it was better than what she already had.”

“The two of you are close.” It’s part question, part statement.

“You could say that.”

“How close?”

“What do you really want to know, Olivia?” I turn to her. “Just ask me and I’ll tell you.”

“I know we’re not really married,” she murmurs quietly. “Not in any way that matters to you, at least. But… I still don’t like the idea that you might be with other women.”

It takes a lot of guts to admit that out loud. I’m impressed that she does it at all.

Perhaps that’s why I decide to give her the truth.

“Olivia.”

“Yes?”

I don’t speak until she finally lifts her face and looks over at me. When she does, I gaze deep into her eyes. “I haven’t been with anyone else since I married you.”

She bites her lip and tries not to look too relieved. “Okay,” she mumbles, turning her gaze back out the window. “Thanks for that.”

“For my honesty? Or my faithfulness?”

“Both, I guess,” she says. “Can I ask you another question? And keep in mind this has nothing to do with us.”

“Go ahead.”

“Have you ever been in a committed, long-term relationship?”

“No.”

“Never?”

I shake my head. “Never.”

“How is that possible?”

“I’ve never wanted one.”

Her face falls and her hand drifts to her stomach again.

“Are you feeling queasy? Do I need to stop the car?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” she says.

I find a quiet part of the road that overlooks the Californian hills and a broad swathe of the city. She sighs as the car settles to a stop. “It’s really beautiful out here. So much space.”

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