I step aside, unblocking the door, and Antonio opens his office door, gesturing the gentleman inside. The door shuts abruptly behind him.
The frosted glass makes it impossible to see anything. The room appears soundproof as well. Even standing outside, I can’t hear a word exchanged between the two men. Not even muffled words.
I wander down the hallway past the entrance to the basement prison. Even if I wanted to sneak down, it would require a key to enter the premises.
Besides, a guard was always on duty, which would make it impossible for me to speak with Mikhail alone. But at least I could know for sure his condition and if he’s alive.
The bratva wouldn’t have tortured a man for two days. They’d have killed him by now.
I wasn’t exactly invited into the holding cells and interrogation rooms. But it was no secret that prisoners were brought in and didn’t stay long.
“Aleksandra,” Nikki says, spotting me as she steps out of the living room. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Is everything all right?” She approaches me, and I have nowhere to go, no place to escape from her onset of questions.
“I just was having a word with Antonio when one of his men needed him,” I say.
“Come on; keep us company.” Nikki wraps an arm around my shoulder and escorts me back into the living room with her and the other guests.
Their chatter ceases as I enter.
Were they talking about me? Or are they just uncomfortable with my presence? I’m not exactly thrilled to be around them, either.
Nikki offers me a seat beside her on the sofa. Up until now, I’d been keeping to myself or spending time solely with the twins.
“Hi,” I say and give an awkward smile as I sink into the couch.
“This is Paige, Karina, and Olivia,” Nikki says, introducing them to me. “Everyone, this is Aleksandra.”
I’m sure they already know who I am. There’s probably been chatter about me for days. I’ve smiled politely but avoided conversing with strangers. I don’t intend to stay very long, but I can’t help but wonder when I will be able to leave.
“Where are your—husbands, boyfriends, masters?” I’m not quite sure what the men are to these ladies, whether they’re being kept and held against their will like I am or happy to be with these men.
If they are being held against their will, perhaps we have something in common, and they’d be willing to fight for their freedom alongside of me.
“Handling business, and Aurielo is my husband,” Karina says. “While it wasn’t exactly a wedding that I dreamed of as a child, Aurielo saved my life. I can’t fault him for the past. We’re happy together, but protecting our son is of the utmost importance.”
“I don’t think any of us shared a typical romance with our husbands,” Paige says. “I met Moreno when I was hired to be a nanny for his daughter.”
“Nova?” I ask, knowing more about the children than their parents after sitting with them for the past two days.
“That’s right,” Paige says. “I had no idea what I was getting myself involved in at the time, but I honestly have no regrets. I’d do it all over again.”
‘’Your husband is a murderer,” I whisper. “All of them are. That doesn’t bother you?”
Olivia leans back in the glider, the chair rocking as she speaks. “Your brother is bratva and attacked our families. I don’t think you have room to speak.” There’s a hardness behind her exterior, and a chill runs through my body.
These women have undoubtedly seen as much as I have, if not more, by their husband’s hands. Have they witnessed murders, kidnappings, and interrogations?
While I’ve been sheltered from the atrocities that the bratva embarks on, I’m not unaware of the suffering that men cause onward to other men. I just never imagined that they’d involve children.
“Olivia,” Nikki says, scolding the blonde. “I’ve invited Aleksandra to join us as our guest. We’ve all been in her position, not knowing whom to trust. And questioning whether we’ve been betrayed by someone we care about.”
The blonde scoffs under her breath. “And we’re supposed to trust her? She’s the sister of Mikhail Barinov. For all we know, she’s taking notes about our families that she can report back to the Russians.”
I shift on the sofa and lock eyes with Olivia. “I wouldn’t do that. Contrary to what you might have heard, not everyone who is Russian is a monster.”
“I wasn’t implying all Russians are monsters, only ones who are bratva,” Olivia quips. “And you, my dear, are a bratva princess, the sister of the bratva boss.”
“Bratva princess?” I can’t help but laugh at the title, like I’m wearing a crown and living luxuriously because of who I am.