Page 28 of Bratva Queen

She smiled sadly and cast her eyes down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you’d lost him.”

“It was a while ago now; I was still young.”

Her eyes were questioning. I didn’t like to reveal too much of my past, of myself, but to Isabel it was easy. “I was about seventeen. My brother was fifteen. I guess you could say I’d matured enough to grieve my father but my brother, Gregori… he struggled. I almost lost him as well.”

“Oh, God, Alek, I’m sorry,” Isabel shook her head.

“Don’t be… He’s just fine. Lives in Saint Petersburg.”

She nodded and a moment of silence passed. Then, she whispered, “I let Oleg down, Aleksei.”

My eyebrows drew together, and I put my arm around her shoulders. “Hey… Of course you didn’t. I don’t know all that much about your life, but I know that you were working really hard, doing something you didn’t want to do so that your brother could finish school, right?”

“Well, yeah…”

“And he did. Tell me, was your father around much?”

“Too much,” she said glumly. “When he left us, it was the first time we ever felt safe.”

I nodded. “Well, that explains it then. Your brother clearly wanted to be a better man. He saw you working hard to provide, and he decided to work hard to protect. Different method, but the same drive.”

Her body trembled as her tears sprang up again. I didn’t shush her or tell her to stop crying, that it would be okay. I knew it wasn’t what she needed. She had to get this out, to spend this time mourning Oleg.

“You and he were one and the same, and I’m pretty sure that he looks down with the utmost respect for you and how hard you’re working.”

“Well, I’m not anymore…”

“But you will. You said you wanted to start college?”

“Yeah.” Finally, she smiled, turning her face up to me, as though she was surprised that I knew that.

“What would you like to study?” I took my arm away from her shoulders, clasping my hands between my thighs that lay wide, my right thigh warm against her left.

She sniffed. “Business. Accounting. Everything that will help me be my own boss, you know?”

“Oh yeah,” I replied, staring into the distance. “I know.”

I knew all too well—that it would be near impossible once Stepan had her under his thumb. She’d be a boss, sure, but only ever of a household. A social circle, maybe, of bratva wives. My heart sank, knowing her future but being unable to warn her. Things would only get worse if she tried to run. If she refused his proposal, he would find a way to force her. Blackmail her. Lock her in a goddamn tower, if that was what it took. He made that clear to me today.

“I don’t know, maybe I’ll start my own retail brand! Like, to provide better quality workers clothes! Do you know how often my mom had to buy my father new factory clothing? They ripped at the seams nearly every month. That would be a good business.”

“Sounds like it would do very well.” I smiled. She amazed me. Maybe she would find a way to get this kind of business off the ground, if Stepan gave her enough slack. It could be possible… maybe.

She sighed deeply and set her hand on my thigh. “Thanks, Alek. I needed that.”

“Of course. Now, um… you think your mama is ready to get home?”

She squeezed my thigh. “Yes. I think we all need some rest.”

Chapter11

Isabel

Istood with my elbows in my hands, hugging my body against the cold breeze.

It was the day after the funeral, and I’d asked Stepan to bring me to the graveyard where Oleg’s body had officially been buried. I stared at his gravestone for ages, before dropping onto my knees on the fresh grass they’d laid.

“Oh, Oleg… I’m sorry,” I said softly. Stepan was waiting for me, leaning against his limo, staring down at his phone. “I wish things were different. I wish our life wasn’t so… fucking… hard!” I chuckled, wiping a tear and knowing he would have mockingly teased me for my profanity. “Seriously,” I touched the ground over his grave, spreading my fingers as though caressing him. “I wish you did drop out of school and get a job like you suggested before I went to that club. Because then you’d be alive. Yeah, maybe you’d be miserable like Papa and Mama, but you’d be alive. You would be here at my side, telling me that if we tried hard enough, we could make it out of this city together.”

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