Page 10 of Scarlet Vows (Yegorov Bratva #3)

And he also believed in me having my life away from the control of Demyan.

They liked each other, but Max wanted us to have our life.

I breathe out.

So why am I beyond nerve ridden?

I’m not betraying anything. I’m not starting anything. No matter how good-looking, how appealing and attractive Ilya is, no matter the crush I had on him when I was younger and he treated me like a kid sister, no matter about any of that, this is what it is. A business arrangement.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

Ilya nods at me. “Are you sure about this, malyshka ? It’s not too late for you to back out. And I’d understand if you did. Completely. It’s a lot, and you don’t need the burden. ”

He reaches over and squeezes my hand, giving me a reassuring and supportive smile.

It crushes me.

Absolutely crushes me. Ilya, as usual, puts me first. It’s what he does. I can’t let him down. He needs my help. And I’m going to give it to him.

My issues are mine, not his, and the truth is I’ll have them for a long time. Moments of guilt because Max isn’t here, sadness and pain, and moments where I question what I’m doing. Max would hate that. He’d want me happy. He’d want me to move on. He’d want me to fly.

And I’m going to fly and help out Ilya.

“I’m fine, I promise,” I say. “Now eat!”

On Sunday nights, I’ve got a tradition with Isla that goes back to before Max proposed. He’d either make himself scarce by playing video games in the bedroom or going out with his friends, and we’d stay in for drinks and trashy TV.

Tonight’s no different.

Every Sunday through Monday, Maize is with her dad. He’s a horrible man to be married to or date, but even I’ll admit that no matter how miserable he made Isla, he’s a doting dad. He loves his kid, and she loves him.

I hug Isla when she arrives, and she holds up a bottle of vodka. I had a driver pick her up, so if she wants to drink a little too much, she can just either crash here or have a safe ride home. When I lived with Max, I’d get her an Uber. Now I use Demyan’s resources at the mansion.

“Pizza’s almost here.”

“Did you send one of Demyan’s men to collect it?”

I blush. “I did. I got a plain and our usual?—”

“Pepperoni, red onion, and kalamata? ”

“Of course.”

She follows me into the living room, where I’ve already thrown pillows and blankets on the floor, and the projector is set up so we can watch on a massive scale.

I wave the remote. “ Love or Flight ’s about to start.”

“And they’re playing that trashy teen movie later.”

We look at each other before jumping up and down. “Double trash!”

We make cocktails with some of Magda’s juice, and there are chips and crackers and dips in case we’re still hungry.

Mikhail knocks on the door ten minutes later with the pizza, and I thank him. We settle down and eat, drink, and watch our terrible TV.

A few hours later, we’re both a little tipsy and sprawled on the floor, munching on chips and cold pizza and watching reruns of The Bachelor .

I sigh and roll toward Isla.

I plan to invite her to be a witness at the wedding because I trust her with my life. I’m going to have to tell her about the deal with Ilya.

She suddenly hits mute on the TV. “What is it? There’s a look on your face, girl. Spill.”

“Remember that guy who was talking to me?”

“The blond babe with a whole lot of muscles?”

“Santo Barone. He’s a mafia don.”

She gasps. “How did you keep that from me?”

“I was sitting there, thinking about Max, and…I didn’t want to bring the evening down.”

“Sweetie, you always think of Max, and you will for a long-ass time. But what gives? Are you into this guy?”

“No! He hit on me and wouldn’t leave me alone, and Demyan… It doesn’t matter. I kind of told him I was engaged, and one thing led to another. Ilya helped me, and then I fo und out Ilya needs a fake wife. I said I’d do it. I pushed myself on him.”

She selects a chip with the kind of concentration that would make a bomb defusing expert drool. Then she looks at me, keeping her voice light. “Isn’t that a little much, Alina?”

“I need someone to help me keep Santo off my back.” I get it, the gentle questions under the surface of her tone, the worry that vibrates off her, but it isn’t like that.

At all.

I’ll be okay.

This is Ilya, not a guy with designs on me.

I’m not getting in over my head. I don’t want to touch those memories in me, I don’t want them sullied. So they won’t be. “I’m good. Really.”

“Surely there’s a less…drastic way. It’s…you’ve said it’s too soon for anything, so I’ll stand by you, Alina. Whatever you choose, but…”

I swallow. I get it. I do. “We’re talking Santo. He’s the type that a ring will stop him, but nothing else will.”

She frowns.

“Italian mafia. If I’m married to someone, especially an equal, he’ll leave me alone. And it seems Ilya needs a wife to get his inheritance he just found out about. It works.”

Isla sighs.

“What?”

“I get that you want to help Ilya, and he’s a great guy. I like him a lot.” She pulls off a piece of pepperoni and pops it into her mouth. “But I guess I’m concerned.”

“It’s Ilya. Twelve months and we’ll be forgetting it.”

“Will he ?”

I take a swallow of my drink. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen how Ilya looks at you.”

“Like a friend,” I say, my stomach wobbling as heat climbs my neck .

“I think he feels something more than friendship for you, Alina. I don’t want you hurt. And I don’t want him hurt. He’d never do a thing to hurt you because he worships you, but he looks at you sometimes when he doesn’t think I see. But I do, and it’s definitely not as a friend.”

I laugh. “I think you’re seeing things that aren’t there. If he felt something for me, he’d have hit on me before I met Max.”

“He’s also your brother’s close friend. And I’ve met Demyan. Do you think Ilya would do something to fuck that up?”

“Ilya’s a strong man. He does what he wants,” I say, laughing again.

And ignoring the things that Ilya said about Demyan.

But is Isla right?

Does Ilya like me more than a friend?

It would change everything if he did.

I’m not even sure in what way, apart from that it would. I don’t want to go there. I don’t want to examine that.

This needs to be uncomplicated, easy. Just two friends.

“It’s fine,” I say, nodding at the remote control. “Put the show back on.”

She does, but for the rest of the visit, my skin pricks and stomach turns, my anxiety won’t go away.

It’s late when Isla leaves, and I’m practically jumping out of my skin.

I’m also tipsy, borderline drunk, but I pick up my phone and text Ilya.

Me

R U up?

Ilya

Da, malyshka .

I bite back a nervous sound, even though he can’t hear me.

Me

This is just business, right? We’re helping each other out. Because I’m not ready for anything more.

The dots blink as he types, and I hold my breath.

Ilya

Just business. Are you drunk, malyshka? Absolutely business. I’m not looking for a thing with anyone. Sorry to disappoint.

Embarrassment threatens to swallow me whole. I can’t believe I let Isla convince me Ilya has feelings for me. Of course he doesn’t.

I send him a smiley face and then I set down the phone and put things away and then hurry up to bed, my face burning.

Not only am I embarrassed, but there’s something else.

Shock.

I’m shocked at how his response is affecting me.

I feel something I never thought I would.

Disappointment.

I’m disappointed he doesn’t like me more than a friend.

What the fuck is that?