Page 25 of Forced to Marry the Russian Bratva

“Let’s head in,” I nod.

“And pray they don’t bite my neck off for depriving them of a wedding?” she offers with mock sweetness.

“That would be a miracle,” I mutter, placing my hand on the small of her back to lead her forward. She must be super anxious, I think to myself, not to pull away.

One of Trifon's men opens the oak doors when I ring the bell.

“Mr. Yuri.” He nods respectfully at Gela and me.

“Is everyone here?” I ask.

“Yes, sir. In the main living room.”

“Good.” I guide a very tense Gela inside.

The guard leads us through the marble foyer, which features thirty-foot ceilings and a chandelier my brother bought from the Plaza in New York during its renovation.

“Are all of you guys in import/export?” she whispers, taking in her surroundings.

“Something like that,” I say, thinking of all the ways this night could hit the roof. What was I thinking? Maybe bringing her here wasn’t a good idea.

I should have called ahead and told my siblings about her, warning them to avoid discussing any of our operations. She doesn’t know we’re Bratva, goddamn it. I’ve really screwed this up.

I begin to spiral, attempting to damage control. I need to set the narrative tonight, somehow. I need to find a subtle way to tell my siblings to keep their big, loud mouths shut.

“Remember what I said, just—”

“Follow your lead. I got it.” She looks at me like she’s mentally throwing darts in my direction for repeating instructions to her.

“Sorry,” I whisper back.

We reach the double doors to the living room, and I hesitate. Behind those doors are the only people in the world I truly trust.

My family.

What will they think of Gela and me bringing her here? In the past, I’ve never cared what they think of the women I’ve been with. But for some reason, the idea of my family rejecting her feels like a knife to the gut.

“Are we going in, or should we make a run for it?” Gela suggests, bringing me back to reality.

“Too late now.” I give her a wary smile and push the doors open.

My sisters, Darya and Nadya, are the first to notice us enter from where they’re huddled on the sofa. They look up, and I see their smiles turn to confusion at the sight of Gela.

“Val!” Nadya jumps up rather exuberantly from her seat after collecting herself. She's the baby of the family, always excited about everything. “You brought a friend!”

She rushes over, ready to envelop Gela in one of her bear hugs, but stops short when she sees my warning look.

The rest of the party turns toward us.

“Oh dear.” Yulia, Trifon’s wife, makes way toward us, giving me a quick hug and Gela a kiss on her cheek. “We’re so happy Trifon brought a friend. Maria?” She turns to the housekeeper, flustered. “Set up a new table setting for our friend, will you?”

“What the hell?” my brother Darya jokes. “I didn’t know we were allowed to bring friends. Smart move, brother.” He pats me on the shoulder. “You’ve brought sane company to tether yourself to reality amongst this crazy crew.”

“Keep talking like that, and I’ll cut off bar access.” Trifon levels a playful glare at Darya before turning to Gela.

“Hi there.” He shakes Gela’s hand and places an arm around Yulia’s shoulder. “Welcome to our house,”

“Umm…hi.” Gela gives the couple a nervous smile and a wave. “Gela Jones.”