Page 48 of Scarlet Vows

But I’m not stealing him. Not borrowing him. I have Melor. And perhaps the two down the line can work to form an alliance of our soldiers that could help create a bratva of great power, the sort that hasn’t been seen in decades.

I am, of course, getting ahead of myself.

I sip my whiskey and glance at my work computer, the one I use at Yegorov’s compound. It’s encrypted, and it’s mine. No one here would dare touch it, and if anyone did, they’d get exactly nowhere.

“I’ll be in at midday. You’ve got a handle on everything?”

“Yes.” He hesitates. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, Ilya? There are whispers that I’ve quashed.”

I sit up straight. “Among our men?”

“Some outlier allies. Our men know better than to gossip on the job or talk outside of it. I’m just curious.”

“We have the meeting with the Cortez cartel at four, and the forensic accountant is coming in at six.” I glance over the information on the screen, then I open another file and check that, too. “Things are going smoothly, but if I’m needed before that, I’ll come in at ten. Contact me in an emergency, and I’ll be there.”

I’m more than aware that’s not what he asked.

“We’ll talk,” I say, “when things on my end become settled, but it’s mostly a logistical thing on my end. Everything else is normal in our world.”

“Ilya…” Pavel pauses. “I do hear things. A grumble when I went for a drink at a local club.” By local, he means bratva clientele. “The Belov Bratva is here and has a new pakhan. Is that you?”

“My grandfather passed.” I choose my words carefully. “I’m exploring the avenues within the bratva for us. And this conversation never happened.”

“I’ll see you at twelve.Do svidaniya.”

“Do svidaniya.”

No sound penetrates the study, but I don’t expect it to. I’ve left Melor to keep up the regular guard duty roster, but right now, I don’t need the soldiers in the house. They have a routine for the grounds, which is fine.

I pull up the files for the Belov operations, but after about an hour, I can’t stand it. Everything is fine. There are things I’d change, but… early days.

Getting up, I stretch and refill my drink. Then I unlock the door, step out into the hall, and pause at the stairs leading up to the floor where my new bride sleeps.

New fake bride.

Alina.

Shit, I expected… I don’t fucking know. For tonight to be one of laughter and jokes, of Isaak and Isla coming here after the so-called festivities to check the place out, to talk privately. To just sink into the weirdness of it all.

In my head, I thought?—

I’m a fucking idiot.

I didn’t think.

Because if I did…

What? I’d have fought her harder on this thing? She wasn’t backing down, and if I’d turned her down, she’d have gotten upset.

I turn and go back into the study, where I pace the room, drinking the fucking whiskey. There’s excellent vodka, but I’m not inclined to immerse myself further into my grandfather’s cloying world.

Annoyance whips through me.

The wedding clearly triggered Alina. Of course it did. It’s clear she’s still in love with Max, and combine that with losing him at her wedding, how could I think that memories wouldn’t swamp her?

And I had to do it at a chapel.

Even a judge or something so basic and utilitarian with us, in just street clothes, might have triggered her, too. But not at such a level.