Page 15 of Sold to the Bratva (Sinful Mafia Daddies #2)

KATYA

S unlight pours through the boutique’s wide front windows, laying golden streaks across the polished hardwood and over racks of designer clothes I have zero intention of buying. Evie lifts a strappy red dress in front of the mirror, tilts her head, grimaces, and then shoves it back onto the rack.

“Okay, so red is a no,” she mutters. “Unless I’m going for murder-at-midnight chic.”

I laugh, looping my arm through hers.

“You could definitely pull it off.”

“I’d rather not terrify the guy before I get him in the sack.”

She tosses a wink over her shoulder and drifts to the next display, humming softly under her breath.

It’s been three weeks since I saw her at the wedding, and for once we’re both free this afternoon. She suggested retail therapy followed by coffee, two things I rarely pass up, especially now that life has settled into a strange kind of calm.

Evie looks exactly the same, her soft curls bouncing with every step, bracelets chiming, eyes brimming with light and mischief, but now she carries the unmistakable glow of a woman newly in love.

“So,” I say, trailing her toward a table of designer handbags, “are you going to tell me more about this mystery guy, or do I have to bribe the details out of you with overpriced coffee?”

Evie bites back a smile. “I was holding out for the coffee,” she says. I nudge her with my hip. “Okay, fine. His name’s Nolan. We met online.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You’re online dating again?” I ask, turning up my nose. “I thought you swore it off after that one guy with the lizard collection.”

“That was one time, and I’ve grown as a person,” she says primly. “Besides, Nolan has normal hobbies. He reads. He’s into architecture. He actually asked about my sculpture work instead of droning on about himself for an hour.”

I giggle. “You might have found the last decent man in New York City. Do you like him?”

She offers a nonchalant shrug that’s anything but convincing. “He’s nice.”

“You’re glowing,” I tease.

“I am not!” she argues, but she can barely contain her luminous smile.

“You are,” I say, nudging her. “You’re absolutely smitten and you don’t want to admit it yet.”

She groans and snatches a black clutch as if it’s a lifeline. “Fine. Maybe I am. But I’m trying not to get ahead of myself. I’m just taking it one date at a time. After all, he could still turn out to be an axe murderer who’s simply very good at hiding it.”

“That’s fair,” I concede, eyeing a dark-blue shoulder bag.

“And what about you, Mrs.Kozlova?” she asks, turning the full force of her grin on me. “How’s married life treating you?”

I pause, fingers trailing over the smooth fabric of the bag.

It’s such a simple question. The answer, however, is anything but. Evie has been there from the beginning, helping me hatch every scheme, so admitting I’m actually happy feels strangely vulnerable.

“It’s good,” I say slowly. “Surprisingly good.”

Evie’s brows shoot up. “Wait,” she says, lifting her hands as if to steady herself. “That didn’t sound like someone who’s still plotting her escape.”

“I’m not,” I admit.

“You were ready to blow the place up.”

“I was. But now…” I exhale. “I don’t know. I’m oddly at peace with it.”

Evie leans against the wall, folding her arms while she studies me. “He’s treating you all right?”

I smile before I can stop it. “Better than all right,” I gush. “He listens. He respects me. He doesn’t flinch when I push back. And he sees me, not just as my father’s daughter or some political pawn. He sees me for me, and he likes who I am.”

She whistles low. “That sounds dangerously close to domestic bliss.”

“Don’t jinx it.” I laugh.

“So,” she says, tilting her head, “you’re not still planning to go back and end the whole thing?”

I shake my head. “No,” I admit. “I think I’m developing feelings for him.”

Evie blinks at me in surprise. “Feelings? The kind with a capital F?”

“I didn’t think it was possible,” I say, my voice quieter now. “Not after how it all started. Not with everything I told myself about him. I just assumed he couldn’t be a good guy if he was agreeing to marry me almost sight unseen.”

“And now?”

I shrug slightly, trying to buy myself some time to consider my words carefully. “Now he’s more than I ever expected. And I feel more than I ever thought was possible.”

A hush settles between us. Overhead, soft music hums, and distant laughter drifts from deeper in the store, the only sounds filling the space.

Evie eventually nudges my arm. “You know what I think?”

“Hmm?”

“I think you’re finally letting yourself be happy.”

I smile to myself, a small, private thing. “Maybe you’re right.”

“And maybe it’s about damn time,” she sing-songs. “Seriously, you’re due for happiness, especially with a man. And I’m glad to hear that he’s treating you well. Otherwise, I’d have to come over there and cut his balls off.”

I chuckle, but her words make me thoughtful.

Balance has never existed in my world. There’s always been a push-and-pull, expectation versus freedom, loyalty versus individuality.

I had resigned myself to the idea that I couldn’t have everything I wanted.

I wouldn’t find love and still meet my father’s expectations for marriage, or I couldn’t be married and also pursue my dreams.

But Isaac has shown me that all my worrying was pointless. In a twist I never saw coming, I’ve ended up with a man who is both everything I once feared and everything I never dared hope for.

He’s ruthless in business, sharp as a blade and twice as cold when he needs to be. I’ve watched people shift around him, lowering their voices and their eyes. He’s the kind of man others are trained to fear.

But when he’s with me, he’s soft and gentle. He’s thoughtful in ways that feel almost dangerous because of how easily they make me fall. He listens when I speak. Not just with nods and grunts, but with focus, like what I say matters. Like I matter.

I thought this marriage would steal everything I ever wanted, namely my future, my independence, my art. I braced myself for the cold, transactional life that comes with a forced union, but Isaac has done everything he can to make sure I don’t lose myself.

If anything, I’m more myself now than I’ve ever been.

“Do I even want to know what you’re daydreaming about?” Evie asks, nudging me with a shopping bag.

I blink back to reality, heat flooding my cheeks. “Sorry, I zoned out for a second.”

“Zoned out or were you having sex fantasies in the middle of the department store?”

I roll my eyes. “Shut up.”

“You’re smiling.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are. And you’re blushing.”

I laugh and duck my head as we exit the store.

“I can’t explain it, okay? I’m still figuring it out myself. But I’m happy, like, actually happy. I didn’t think I would be in this arrangement.”

Evie hooks her arm through mine. “That’s because you thought you were walking into a prison.”

“I did.” I glance at her and smile. “But the reality is, it feels like I’ve finally been let out of one.”

She smiles back, and for a second everything feels right. The sun is warm, our arms are full of bags, and we’re two women laughing in the city as if nothing could possibly go wrong. Then the sidewalk tilts beneath my feet.

It happens so fast.

One moment I’m standing, smiling, laughing, the next, everything around me warps. Sounds blur, my pulse pounds in my ears, and my vision tunnels into black spots. My body sways, knees buckling.

“Katya?” Evie’s voice slices through the fog, suddenly sharp with alarm. “Katya!”

I reach for her blindly, desperately, as the world slips out from under me. Her hands catch my arms just in time to stop the fall, and then everything goes dark.