Page 113 of Thorns of Love

And just like that I got rid of Sasha.

Vasili’s gaze softened on me, then kissed both of my cheeks. “Are you happy, Tatiana?”

“I am,” I murmured. “Deliriously. Crazy happy.”

Or I would be, when my brothers went back to their families, and I’d spend some quiet time with my husband.

My lips curved thinking of my husband. It had been three nights since he proposed. The ruthless Pakhan seemed to be a romantic at heart. Okay, that might be going too far but I appreciated the gesture. He gave me the choice. He wanted me to choose him.

And I did. I would. Always.

For the rest of that night, Illias couldn’t stop touching me. As if he had to convince himself that I was alive. I slept cuddled into him, holding on to him. To this. To our happiness. But then the next morning Illias pecked me on the cheek and said he had some work to do. He kept tight-lipped about the type of work and then I hadn’t seen him since.

My brothers kept me busy for the three days following our first day back. But tonight, I’d get rid of them. Vasili insisted on ensuring I went to sleep. So he sat on the couch in my bedroom, reading something on his phone. Knowing him, probably a contract for a real estate deal.

I laid on the bed, with my hands tucked under my cheek and my eyelids heavy. He was never much of a talker. It was the reason he used to put me to bed when I was a kid. When Sasha tucked me in, he’d talk and then I’d talk, next thing you knew, it was midnight and Vasili would lose his shit on us. When Vasili tucked me in, it was efficient and quiet.

“You still sleep in the same position,” Vasili remarked, his eyes still reading the screen of his phone. The man was efficient. He was lucky Isabella fell for him, because I honestly didn’t know another woman who’d put up with such a workaholic.

“I’m a creature of habit,” I admitted softly.

“Where is Illias?” I questioned.

He shrugged. “Somewhere downstairs.”

“That’s helpful,” I noted wryly. “This place is huge. Any chance you could narrow it down for me?”

“No.”

I let out a frustrated breath. So typical. Men always stuck together. But they could never outsmart me. I’d find him one way or another.

Silence followed, full of past ghosts and memories. For me, most memories of my childhood were happy. Thanks to my brothers. But I knew Sasha and Vasili weren’t as lucky. He finally put the phone down, guilt crossing his face.

“Fuck, Tatiana,” he rasped. “I failed you. I let Adrian, that asshole–”

I sat up suddenly, the mattress shifting under my weight.

“No, Vasili.” My voice was firm. Sharp. “You didn’t fail me. You have never failed me. Thanks to you and Sasha, I had a good life. I was loved.” My voice cracked at the last word. “So don’t you ever apologize.”

My big, fierce brother shouldn’t apologize to anyone. My throat squeezed and a tear rolled down my cheek. My darn hormones and emotions working overtime. I slid out of the bed and padded across the floor to the couch where he sat. I lowered myself on the floor and hugged his knees.

“I don’t want you to be my father and mother anymore,” I rasped. “Just my brother. You have little ones and enough things to worry about. And I’ll worry for them alongside you. But no more gray hair for you because of me.”

Our gazes held. “I love you, Brother.”

He let out an affectionate breath.

“God, you grew up.” He brushed my cheek affectionately. “I love you too. And I can’t help but worry about you. Always.”

I grinned. “Well you don’t have to anymore.”

He let out a sigh. “I know, Sestra.” Two, no three favorite words in Russian. Sestra and moya luna.

“Promise me, you’ll try not to worry,” I insisted. “Isabella would have my head if my actions caused you to have a heart attack.” The look on his face was the one I knew well. The stubborn man. “Let Illias worry about me,” I suggested playfully. “Let him get gray hair.”

That drew a big smile out of my brother.

“I like that,” he said, chuckling deeply. I loved hearing my big brother laugh. Sasha and I gave him plenty to worry about, even before he learned the truth about our mother. His expression turned serious. “You are safer with Konstantin than you ever were with Adrian. It makes it easier not to worry as much.”