Page 9 of Scarlet Vows (Yegorov Bratva #3)

Chapter Seven

ALINA

The next morning, I drink about seven coffees and still drag my suddenly heavy body around, my eyes still bleary.

It’s already ten. I got up half an hour ago, and I’m just…exhausted.

I go back to my room and slide under the covers, willing myself to sleep.

Last night, I tossed and turned, and it didn’t seem like I slept more than half an hour.

And the thing is, I still can’t sleep.

My heart lurches as my stomach spins, and my nerves seem to scrape against my skin.

Did I make the right decision offering to help Ilya out?

I love him, and he’s my friend. We’re so close, and I know that’s why I offered without hesitation.

Our friendship is like that.

He’d do anything for me. And I’d do the same for him.

But last night and even now, the same questions keep pounding at me.

Was it the right thing to do ?

Am I committing to something I’m not mentally or emotionally ready for?

By that, I don’t mean Ilya. We’re not in love. It’s not that kind of emotional readiness. It’s a wedding that at its core is fake. But there’s a realness to it, a reality to that fakeness.

It’s a marriage.

Which means there’ll be a wedding.

Even if it’s at the courthouse or in front of a celebrant, just him, me and a witness, it’s still a marriage.

Any wedding, any marriage I ever dreamed of was going to be to Max. So, given my past, given how he was so horrifically ripped from me, it’s a lot.

Maybe more than I can handle.

Because if he were a stranger and this were a monetary transaction, there are ways in which it would be easier, ways in which I could perhaps convince myself it’s a legal contract and nothing more.

It’s Ilya. There’s love, friendship, understanding. There’s a history that even without sex and love and that kind of intimacy, a marriage to him, while fake, feels real. It feels like Ilya has a lot more in common with Max.

Which makes it feel too close to betrayal.

The very reason I jumped in with the offer is the reason for the turmoil now.

“You agreed, Alina,” I whisper.

And I did. I already agreed. It wouldn’t be fair to him to back out now.

I throw back the covers, finding them too constricting, too hot, and I jump out of bed. Stripping off, I go to my bathroom and shower and then dress for the day.

But it’s done nothing more than give the caffeine time to work. I’m more awake, but the turmoil’s still there.

I pick up my phone and head down to the living room as I call Ilya .

“Can you come over?” I say the moment he picks up.

“Sure, is everything all right?”

I try and keep my voice light and my breathing even, but I know him. He’s likely picked up something in either my voice or just from how tuned in he is with me.

“It’s all fine. Can you?”

“Give me twenty.”

He’ll be here earlier.

I hurry into the kitchen, ignoring Magda and her rapid Russian, and Olga rushes past with my bedding. They always do this. Fresh sheets every day, and Magda treating the kitchen as hers.

I pull out bread, and Magda plucks it from me.

“My kitchen,” she says in Russian. “I’m about to start on a borscht, so what is it you want?”

I know this is her love language, but I just glare. “I want to make some sandwiches. Ilya is coming?—”

“Ilya!” The woman blooms with smiles. “Why didn’t you say so? Go, I’ll make lunch for you both.”

“It’s not even eleven?—”

“Shoo.” She shakes her head. “Alina, please, I am here to take care of you. Go.”

With a sigh, I do just that, and like magic, Magda lays down a tray fit for a Russian czar.

There are blini, caviar, sour cream, chives.

Tiny finger sandwiches. Black bread, meats, cheeses, and one solitary leaf of lettuce.

There’s also chilled vodka as well as her closely guarded secret fresh juice recipe that tastes divine.

She lays it down and then leads Ilya in like he’s my gentleman caller. I shoot her a filthy look, but she ignores it.

He glances from her to me to the platter. “What was all that about?”

“I think Magda feels guilty for being snappy at me. So she made you a platter of food. I was going to make a ham and salad sandwich.”

He chuckles, but there’s concern in his eyes. “What’s up? What couldn’t wait?”

I smooth my fingers nervously down my jeans and pour a spiked juice, adding more than a healthy splash of vodka. He just eyes me before doing the same, but he keeps standing, waiting.

“Please, sit.”

With a sigh, he does.

I take a gulp of my drink. “Oh boy.”

“Hey. It’s me, Alina. You can say anything to me. If you want to call this off, you can. Anything, okay?”

I nod, hating that I’m making this big. “Okay. And no, that’s not it.

I just want us to both be clear about how this is going to work.

I just think… I just…” I make myself breathe.

“I figure the more I know about what I’m getting into, I guess the easier it’s going to be to navigate through it all. ”

“As I said, if we call it off, there’s no harm done.

Zero. Sure, you’ll still annoy me, but who can ever be mad at you?

Which I wouldn’t be.” He waits until I look him in the eye, and I want to fall into that calmness, the welcoming acceptance.

The warmth and protection there. “I’d never be mad at you for not wanting this.

Really, I can’t ever see me being mad at you. ”

That makes it hard to swallow because a knot of tears suddenly forms in my throat.

“I’m not backing out. But…the wedding. It can’t be big, and I know that bratva weddings are big. But it’s out of the question because Demyan would find out.”

This is a lie, and it hurts and burns me to lie to him.

My wedding to Max was supposed to be big. It was perfection, and then it was a nightmare, and I can’t… I can’t do that again. Can’t put myself through all that again .

Too much pain, too much loss is now linked to a big wedding in my mind. Worse, a big wedding that belonged to Max.

Ilya nods then spoons some caviar on a blini with some sour cream and hands it to me, then he makes one for himself.

“Agreed. But Alina, our world is small. There’s a good chance Demyan will find out anyway.

I didn’t say this last night because you were caught up in it all and so adamant he couldn’t know for your own reasons, and I respect that. But there is a chance he’ll find out.

“We can make it as small as you like. You and me and a judge or whatever. It’s a piece of paper.

But no matter if we go to the other side of the country and do this, people will find out.

Santo thinks we’re engaged. So there’s a chance your brother will find out before you’re ready to tell him.

I don’t think we can get through a year without him eventually finding out. ”

He eats his blini.

I nibble at mine, not tasting it, even though I love Magda’s blini. Anxiety kills the tastebuds and leaps inside because he’s right. I never thought that one through.

No, that’s not true. I glossed over it by thinking we’d tell him down the line, but now…

It’s all tangled up in Max, and the guilt’s riding me hard.

I drink some of the spiked juice and think. I want to say to him that Demyan will be fine if we use the two months he’s got left away properly and think of the right way to frame it.

Thing is, we both know my brother.

There’s a reason I said I didn’t want Demyan to know. Sure, I don’t want him to know Ilya helped me out, and I don’t want him to see me returning the favor like I’m pathetic and can’t take care of myself.

But really, Demyan definitely wouldn’t approve of me helping Ilya. He’d see it as black and white, like my virtues were being put on sale or something. And if he takes it all badly and refuses to see reason, I’m worried I’ll be the cause of problems.

“I guess I don’t want to cause tension between you and Demyan.”

“So we won’t do it.”

“That’s not an answer, either, Ilya.”

He grumbles something and breathes out a sigh. “Ah, malyshka , you can’t have it all the ways. As much as you get what you want, having it all the ways is impossible.”

I don’t get everything I want. If I did, Max would be here.

But he’s not. I don’t say that, though.

“I want to help. I hate that Demyan thinks he has control over me. I’m twenty-four?—”

“Just.”

“—not four.” I frown, take another sip as Ilya eats some more. “I hate it. I get to make my own decisions, and this is one of them. I just don’t want to cause problems between you and him. That’s all.”

“You won’t.”

I don’t quite believe him. We both know Demyan.

“You won’t,” he says again. “So don’t worry about that for now.”

“I’m doing this,” I say, not quite sure if I’m convincing him or myself.

And I do want to. It’s just…Max.

“So we’ll have time, and any issues your brother might have, I’ll deal with it.”

I nod. “So small wedding?”

“The smallest.”

“Do we need a witness?”

He shrugs. “My friend Isaak will do it. No need to ask.”

And I know Isla would, too .

Which starts making everything feel real again.

“Or we just get someone in town hall.” He smiles. “End of next week. I don’t think we should push it later than that.”

I nod once more. “End of this week is better.”

“Okay,” he says.

“We’ll need pictures for the lawyers. At least, I’d imagine so.” I bite my lip. “We’ll get your friend, and you know Isla? She’ll do it, then we can all have a small dinner.”

“A celebratory dinner?”

“We can’t just do the ceremony and head to our homes. Having proof that isn’t needed is better than not having it. So we do that. Don’t you think?”

“I do. I’ll book a nice, romantic place. Intimate.”

I nod again, my stomach lurching at the words “intimate” and “romantic.” But it sounds manageable. I can do this.

The nervousness flutters inside me. I should be calm, not more worked up. If Max were able to speak to me from beyond, he’d tell me to do it. He’d give his blessing. I know he liked Ilya. He used to tease me about him. But Max believed in helping others, especially those you were close to.