Page 6 of Betrayal and Vows (Bratva Vows #2)

Anton

D mitri won’t shut the hell up.

This stupid tradition of eating breakfast in the Bratva restaurant every morning is ridiculous.

It’s all about being seen. Like a roll call for bad guys.

Who survived the night.

Showing up here is like punching in at a job.

We show up at the restaurant for breakfast, drink strong coffee, eat runny eggs and then casually leave. If we can’t make it for breakfast, we better show up for lunch or dinner.

I’m not hungry.

There’s only one thing I want.

The sexy blonde that has my mouth watering and tongue craving the taste of her—the woman I can’t have.

“You disappeared like Batman,” Dmitri says. “I had a woman waiting for you. It’s not polite to leave a lady hanging. I was stuck with both of them.” He winks at me.

“You managed,” I mutter.

“Managed?” He laughs.

“Anton, they were practically feral. I should get hazard pay.”

I grunt.

He leans back in the chair, stretching out like a cat in the sun. “Where’d you go?”

I shrug. “I was there the whole time.”

He frowns. “Yeah?”

“Drop it, Dmitri.”

He grins. “You found your own woman.”

I don’t respond.

I shouldn’t have gone after her. I shouldn’t have touched her.

But I did.

And now I can’t think of anything else.

She’s marrying another man in two weeks. His son.

My Pakhan—Vadim Orlov. His evil, piece of shit son isn’t good enough to lick the bottom of Lena’s shoes.

Dmitri is still looking at me. Trying to read me. No one can read me. Except Dmitri. Sometimes. He knows me too well.

“You’re in a mood.”

“I’m always in a mood.” I reach for my coffee and drink while my eyes scan the restaurant.

“This one’s darker. Even for you.”

I look at him. He shuts up.

Good.

Across the room, the restaurant hums with activity.

White tablecloths, fresh-baked pastries, and the illusion of legitimacy.

The morning crowd thinks this is just a quaint café tucked into an old part of Moscow.

What they don’t know is that two levels below this dining room, men are being beaten bloody for unpaid debts, drug shipments are being tallied, and security cameras are being scrubbed of any unfortunate footage.

It’s not just breakfast.

It’s Bratva.

This place belongs to Vadim Orlov. Which means it belongs to us.

The door opens. Every single man in the place immediately moves their hands to their weapons.

It’s a trained reaction.

Like lab rats looking for the cheese.

Yuri.

Brigadier. Vadim’s right hand. Cleaner. Enforcer. Executioner.

The man strolls in with his two guards behind him.

Yuri moves with the confidence of a man who's never had to look over his shoulder.

Tall and lean, with salt-and-pepper hair slicked back and a face that looks like he should work at a bank. His suit is perfectly tailored, Italian leather shoes polished to a mirror shine. He looks like he could be discussing stock portfolios instead of body counts.

But I know better. I've seen what those manicured hands can do.

He looks normal , but he’s the devil in disguise.

Dmitri sees him at the same time as I do. “Well, shit.”

Yuri never attends breakfast. He typically eats with Vadim at the Pakhan’s massive estate.

Vadim doesn’t leave the place all that often. The city wants him dead. He’s not well-liked.

Is any mobster?

The easy-going vibe in the restaurant immediately changes with Yuri’s presence.

If he’s here, that means something is going on. There’s no reason for him to come out of the castle with the high walls and an army of guards to keep his ass safe.

He doesn’t scan the room—he already knows who’s here. He walks straight to our table and pulls out a chair. He sits with his two guards standing behind him with their backs to us.

My stomach knots. My blood slows.

Do they know?

Did they find out about last night?

Fucking my Pakhan’s future daughter-in-law was not a smart move.

I knew it but when it came to Lena, I had no self-control.

I wipe my mouth with my napkin like I’m not suddenly calculating exactly how fast I can get to the gun in my coat.

“Yuri,” I say with a calm I don’t feel. “Join us?”

Dmitri clears his throat. “Want some bacon?”

Yuri doesn’t even look at him. He raises two fingers at the waitress. “Coffee. Eggs. No toast.”

A pause.

Then his eyes land on me.

I meet his gaze. Hold it. I’ve stared down worse men. But today, it takes effort.

My mind is replaying the night before. I know where the security cameras are. Did I mess up? Did they realize it was Lena in that shitty wig?

They’ll kill me but what they’ll do to her will be far worse.

I can’t stop mentally kicking my own ass for being so reckless.

I’ve never done anything I haven’t planned. I’m strategic. I’m careful. Disciplined.

But last night.

Fuck.

“Pakhan is happy with your handling of the situation the other night,” Yuri says.

I say nothing. We don’t get pats on the back.

This is off.

I steal a glance at Dmitri. He feels it as well.

The waitress drops off his coffee and scurries away. Yuri sips it, then sets it down before turning his attention on me.

I might be able to kill him, but the two guards will kill me before I have a chance to take them out. And everyone in the restaurant is loyal to the Bratva.

“I have a message for you,” Yuri says, still watching me. “From Vadim.”

Dmitri stiffens beside me, probably wondering what the hell I did to earn a personal missive from the Pakhan himself.

I had a feeling I knew what the message was. My eyes dropped to the cup of coffee.

It’s too bad it’s going to be my last meal. I would have preferred something like Blini.

I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking worried. “I’m listening.”

Yuri pulls a plain white envelope from his coat.

“You’re reassigned.”

“To what?”

“To whom, ” he corrects, placing the envelope on the table between us.

I stare at it like it might bite.

“You want me to open that?”

“No rush. It’s not a bomb. I’m sitting here. I don’t want to destroy my pretty face.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, but no one is laughing.

Well, Dmitri smirks.

I slide the envelope toward me, peel it open, and read the contents.

Just a name.

Lena Rostova.

My lungs stop working.

Everything in me stills.

It’s her name, but it might as well be a bullet.

What the fuck? They know. It’s a test. I don’t show any reaction.

Yuri’s still watching me.

“Problem?” he asks mildly.

I shake my head. “No. Who is she?”

Yuri raises an eyebrow. “Your future queen.”

“My future queen?”

I keep up the ruse. Feign ignorance.

Dmitri chuckles. He’s covering for me. It’s the same thing he’s done since we were children. He has a way of pulling attention away from me.

“Ah, Mikhail’s future wife,” Dmitri says. “Mikhail can’t handle her?”

Yuri shoots him a look.

"Watch your mouth," Yuri says coldly. "You're speaking about the future wife of your Pakhan's son."

Dmitri holds up his hands. "No disrespect intended."

Yuri turns back to me.

"She's been... difficult. Sneaking away from her guards. Making trouble." He pauses, letting that sink in.

"Vadim wants someone competent watching her until the wedding. Someone who won't be distracted by a pretty face."

My jaw tightens. They don't know.

They can't know.

This is just bad fucking timing.

“When?” I ask.

“You’re being reassigned to her personal security detail until the wedding. Effective immediately.”

“Around the clock?”

“Where she goes, you go.”

The coffee in my stomach curdles.

Dmitri whistles. “Damn. Bridal duty. What’d you do to piss off the boss?”

I don’t answer.

Yuri wipes his mouth.

“Where is she?” Dmitri asks.

Once again, he’s covering for me.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I never let anything in. Nothing disturbs me. I’m ice.

But Lena burns within me.

“You will make sure she stays engaged. No incidents. No disappearances. No drama.”

“Is she a reluctant bride?” Dmitri jokes.

To my surprise, Yuri smiles. “No more than others. Her father has some concerns.”

“Concerns?” I finally ask.

His eyes flick up to mine.

Too sharp. Too knowing.

“Her father needs the marriage. And his daughter is… willful. She’ll need a strong hand. Mikhail is happy to provide it.”

The idea of Mikhail putting hands on Lena has my back teeth grinding.

“Understood?” Yuri asks.

I nod.

“Good. She’s at the estate. You’ll be staying there.” Yuri takes a drink and then looks at Dmitri. “You too.”

He stands. Adjusts his coat. Leaves.

Dmitri leans back and exhales loudly. “Well, that’s not ominous or anything.”

I don’t respond.

I’m too busy trying to keep my breathing even.

They know.

Maybe not everything.

But something.

She told me she slips away from her guards all the time. That they don’t notice. That she’s good at vanishing.

But maybe last night was different.

Maybe someone noticed she was gone.

Maybe someone followed.

Maybe someone saw us.

And now I’ve been reassigned to watch her. Guard her.

Pretend like I’m not one wrong glance away from blowing this whole thing wide open.

It’s not protection.

It’s punishment.

It’s a trap.

A test.

And Lena? She’s being watched just as closely as I am.

Maybe more.

“You’re getting promoted,” Dmitri says.

"Or executed," I mutter.

Dmitri's smile fades. "What?"

I stand, dropping money on the table. "Nothing. Let's go."

"Anton." He grabs my arm. "What aren't you telling me?"

I look down at his hand on my sleeve, then back up at his face. He releases me immediately.

"I'm telling you we have a job to do."

"Bullshit. You've been off since last night. And now you're being assigned to babysit some spoiled princess? That's not a promotion, that's?—"

I stare at him and I see the moment realization dawns. “Oh, shit.”

“Don’t.” My tone is filled with warning.

“Are you fucking crazy?”

I’m already moving out the door. I have to pack a bag. When you’re summoned, you move.

“Anton!” Dmitri grabs my arm and spins me around. “That’s what you were doing last night?”

I glare at him. We both know I’m not going to answer him.

“Fuck. It’s her. I thought you were over that.”

“We need to pack,” I say.

Dmitri doesn't move. He's staring at me like I've grown a second head.

"No," he says. "We need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"The hell there isn't." He steps closer, lowering his voice. "You can't be serious about this."

I keep walking toward my car. I need to think. I need to figure out how to survive the next two weeks without getting us both killed.

"Anton." Dmitri's voice is tight. "Look at me."

I stop but don't turn around.

"You're walking into a trap."

"I'm doing my job."

"Your job?" He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Your job is to guard the woman you're obsessed with? The woman who's marrying your boss's son in two weeks? That's not a job; that's a suicide mission."

I finally turn to face him. His blue eyes are wide with something I've never seen before. Fear. Real fear. Not for himself, but for me.

"I can handle myself.”

Dmitri gets in the passenger seat of my car.

“Did she request you?” Dmitri asks. “Is she setting you up?”

The thought had crossed my mind, but I didn’t believe it.

“No.”

“Anton, if they know?—”

“I know.”

“Mikhail—”

“I know!” I bark and put the car in gear.

He wants to tell me Mikhail will kill me if he finds out I’ve fucked his future wife.

And Lena.

He’ll make her life a living hell before he kills her.