Page 37 of Bratva’s Vow (Bratva’s Undoing #2)
I sat down, still slightly stunned, and grabbed a slice of toast. “Err, thank you.” I ate quickly.
My nerves weren’t helped by the fact that Pilar somehow managed to smile exactly the way my high school librarian used to when I was overdue on a book—gentle but with a quiet sense of “I will take no shit from you, young man.”
A moment later, she returned with a small white mug and set it in front of me with careful hands.
“I made you something relaxing,” she said. “Chamomile, fennel, and a bit of motherwort. Just enough to keep your body calm and your mind clear today. Helps you to focus in classes.”
“Oh. Uh… thanks.” I glanced at the cup, steam curling up in soft tendrils.
Nik looked up from his plate. “Maybe I’ll take one too.”
Pilar shook her head. “Not for you. It’s a little too calming for someone who carries a gun all day.”
Nik snorted. “Fair enough.”
I brought the cup to my lips. It smelled sweet, earthy, kind of floral. I blew on it, took a sip, and let the warmth settle in my chest. Not bad. If anything, it tasted like one of those overpriced blends from the health food aisle.
“Let me know how it makes you feel.” Pilar wiped her hands on a dish towel. “It’s an old family recipe. I’ll make more if it helps.”
When I finished, I tried to clear my plate, but she came over and took it from me.
“This is what I’m here for. Your first class starts soon, doesn’t it?
” When I stared at her blankly, she chuckled.
“Mr. Morozov told me your schedule so I could work around you being home except for mornings. He insists I make you a nice breakfast before you go to class.”
“Oh, okay. Thank you, then,” I said, still uncertain about everything. “Breakfast was… really good, and the tea was delicious.”
“I’m glad you liked it. I’ll make you some each morning.” Pilar smiled and brought the dishes over to the counter. “If there’s anything specific you like to eat or anything you’re craving, just write it down on this notepad I’ll leave in the drawer. I’ll take care of the groceries.”
I stared at the notepad like it was going to bite me. “Okay. Um. Cool.”
“Wren, we should get going,” Nik said.
“Just let me rinse my mouth.”
I hurried to the half bath and gargled mouthwash for thirty seconds. While swishing, I pulled out my phone and fired off a message to Maxim.
Me:
You didn’t tell me about the housekeeper.
Maxim:
I love you.
I stared at the screen.
Shook my head. Spat out the mouthwash.
“You’re impossible,” I muttered under my breath but couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips as I slipped my phone into my pocket.
Nik was waiting for me at the door, a strange grin on his face. As soon as I walked out, I saw why.
I whistled low. “Damn.”
Parked at the end of the drive was a car that looked like it belonged in a showroom with velvet ropes around it.
Midnight black, all smooth curves and sharp edges.
Not quite a sports car yet sleek enough to drop jaws.
Mine had practically crashed into the ground.
The rims gleamed. The paint caught the light like ink over water.
“Damn,” I said again because it was worth repeating. “You got an upgrade. Looks expensive. ”
Nik grinned and pulled something from his pocket. “Catch.”
I fumbled and caught the fob midair, staring down at it like it might be made of gold. “You’re letting me drive this? Your brand-new car? Are you sure that’s smart? I have a license, but I don’t exactly drive much.”
Nik headed for the passenger side. “You’re not driving my car.”
“Then whose?—?”
“You’re driving your car.”
I blinked. “Wait. What? ”
Nik opened the door and slid in like this was routine. “Maxim bought it for you. I picked it up yesterday. He said you needed a little more freedom. Within reason. So congrats. She’s yours, but you only drive it if one of us is with you.”
I turned back to the car, heart thudding.
Mine.
It was a two-door coupe, glossy and gorgeous. The kind of car that made people stop and stare. Sleek black body, matte finish details, and that subtle glint of something that whispered money without having to scream it.
I opened the driver’s side door slowly, like I didn’t want to scare it off.
The seats were black leather with deep red stitching, the dash minimal but high-tech. A low-slung steering wheel. The faint smell of new leather and cedar.
“Nik, are you kidding?”
Nik chuckled. “Check the glove box.”
I slid into the seat. It hugged my body like it had been designed for me.
When I popped open the glove box, there was an envelope.
I took out the card. On it was scribbled in Maxim’s handwriting: I love you.
Nothing else. He hadn’t even signed his name.
Dammit, would he always use those three words to disarm me?
To get his way? How could I react when he bought me expensive things simply because he loved me?
The registration document had my full name on it. Wren Alexander Holloway.
“He can’t be serious,” I muttered. “This is bananas.”
“This is Maxim for you,” Nik said.
I ran my fingers over the wheel and glanced over at him. “Nik, I’m shaking so hard I don’t think I can drive. Is it really mine?”
He rolled his eyes and gave a dramatic sigh. “You saw the papers. Believe it. And if I know Maxim, this is just the beginning.”
“Wait, what do you mean?”
“I mean cars—plural. Villa, yacht, trips abroad.”
“Oh my god, he wouldn’t.”
Nik’s blank stare said everything. Maxim most certainly would.
“He wanted you to feel a little more in control,” Nik said. “You drive. I ride shotgun. I’m your very professional passenger princess.”
I giggled. I couldn’t help it. I was the owner of a car. My name was on the registration and everything.
“Take a deep breath and let’s go. Buckle up.”
I needed more than one deep breath, but eventually, I calmed down enough to start the car. The engine purred to life so smoothly it felt like seduction on wheels.
As I backed out of the driveway, I tried not to grin like a hyena.
And failed.
Nik leaned back in the seat, resting one arm on the door.
“See?” he said. “It’s not so bad being the Pakhan’s lover, is it? So many boys would kill to be in your position right now.”
And they could all fuck off. Maxim would never stop being mine.