Page 50 of Bratva Queen

“Yes! Why not? You’ve been at my side all these years; you know exactly what to do. And, as you so delicately put it last night, I have a pregnant wife to care for here.” He shrugged, basically telling me I did this to myself. “Dima mentioned that his supply came from Saint Petersburg, so I need you to go over there and find out who the original supplier is. Make him a deal. We’ll keep this in-house, no middleman anymore, right? Much safer that way.”

I watched him, wondering if he knew just how difficult this would be for me. Either he knew that I loved Isabel and wanted to keep us apart, or he really just wanted to get rid of me for a while, feeling tired of my—and his father’s—judgment.

“Alek… let me put this plainly.” He sat forward with his elbows on his desk, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What you did last night was out of line. But you are too valuable for me to throw away. So I’m just going to get you out of my sight for a while. A few years maybe?”

A few years?

“Take it as your opportunity to start a new empire. Be your own boss. Trust me, I’ll make it clear that you’re the head of that operation. I’m doing you a goddamn favor, so you better take it and be fucking grateful.”

My jaw clenched for a moment. I looked to the side, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts about leaving Isabel alone with this maniac.

How could I protect Isabel now? That must have been another motive for him—to be able to treat his wife as he wished without me looking over his shoulder all the time. His father was no longer around to “station” me at his son’s shoulder. Stepan was the Koslov king now, and if I didn’t do exactly as told, I’d probably be killed. And then there would be no saving Isabel.

I looked back at him. “Thank you for the opportunity,boss,” I practically hissed.

He smiled. “Hey, didn’t your brother move there? Around the time you joined us?”

The fucking asshole.

“Maybe you can find him… reconnect, if, you know, you’re able to forgive him for this life sentence he put you in!” He laughed at his own joke.

I bit my tongue, turned on my heel, and walked out.

I would find a way. I would get the house staff on my side, gain their intel, maybe even somehow station a guard I could trust to protect her while I was away. And I would do everything in my power to get back here as soon as fucking possible.

Chapter19

Isabel

Five Years Later

Iheld my baby Ivan in my arms, cooing and smiling at his bubbling mouth and outstretched arms, his tiny, chubby fingers clawing at my own. I was seated in the children’s room, previously a grand, guest bedroom suite, now turned into their chaotic playhouse with a closed-off pen for two-year-old Dmitry to wobble around in, and a makeshift racetrack through the scattered toys for my oldest, Misha, to run and fight with his plastic sword against all the pirates and baddies he saw but the rest of us didn’t.

It was chaotic, but it was my favorite place in the whole house. No, the whole world.

As I sat in my rocking chair and gazed through the wide windows, I thought about the few years that had passed with my children.

* * *

“Was Aleksei backin Moscow by then?” Maxim asked me.

“No,” I shook my head. I hadn’t seen Aleksei for five whole years. I wondered if, out of all the things Stepan did to me, that was the worst. I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that it hurt, more and more every day, to have to live that bratva life without him watching me from the shadows.

“So… he wasn’t even a part of the first years of my life,” Misha added, in a kind of confusion. “Somehow I felt he was always there.”

I smiled. “So did I. I knew he was talking with the house staff from time to time. And there was a certain guard who joined the security team about a year after Alek left… a young, inexperienced kid. His name was Lev. I don’t know how I knew it, but it was clear that Alek had somehow sent him. He even spoke about his childhood in Saint Petersburg.”

My boys watched me with a certain wonder in their eyes, curiosity about the life that not only I—but they too—had led before my leaving them behind.

“So…” Dmitry asked with a deep inhale, “how was dear old Papa as a husband? Did you ever get that honeymoon?”

“Well, yes...” I shrugged. I got it. But it never felt like an actual honeymoon.

* * *

After that nightwhen Aleksei stepped into the bedroom to save me, Stepan held back a little. Instead of coming home drunk, he stayed away or slept in a guest room. It was weird, this feeling that even though Aleksei had been told to leave, he was still protecting me, just with a few words spoken in an angry tone on one fateful night.

Once Misha was born, we hired a nanny onto the house staff but truly, I was there all the time. My only commitments were the fancy dinners I was expected to attend—Stepan’s associates’ weddings or birthdays and the like. I’d become a somewhat popular figure in the bratva community, being the Koslov queen. I even hosted a big Christmas dinner and had my mama flown in to join us for a whole month to celebrate and get to know her grandson as well.

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