When I pull into the parking lot, she looks out the window. “You wanted to get more food?” Then she thinks for a second and says, “I guess I could eat again,” making me laugh despite my nerves.
I don’t answer her. I wouldn’t know what to say even if I wanted to explain things. My hope is that she won’t want to make a scene in front of the others, and then I can try and explain things when we get back to the house. If she’ll even hear me out, that is. Opening the door, I lead her through the main dining area and into the back room where we always conduct business. My uncle is seated behind his large, mahogany desk, smoking a cigar, a habit he’s had since he was a teenager and the reason for his deep, raspy voice.
“Uncle Viktor,” I say in English when we walk in. I take our jackets and toss them in a leather chair by the door. “Holly, this is my Uncle Viktor, head of the Orlov Bratva.”
I notice she scoots closer to me when Viktor turns his dark eyes on her. Even in his late sixties, he’s an intimidating man and has brought many people to their knees. I’m not sure if she wants it, but I wrap an arm around her shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze to let her know it’s okay. She doesn’t push me away, just leans in a little harder and lets me comfort her in this small way.
“Getting close, I see,” my uncle says in Russian. “Does she know what’s about to happen?”
“No.”
He blows out a puff of smoke before standing up and walking towards us, switching back to English. “It’s nice to meet you, Holly,” he says, giving her as friendly of a smile as he can manage. It still comes off looking more sinister than anything else, but Holly stands her ground.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Mr. Orlov.” She leans in even closer to me and asks, “So are you like theDonor something?”
I bite back the laugh at her adorable ignorance of the crime world.
“We’re not Italian, sweetheart,” my uncle says. “I’m thePakhan.”
She repeats the word, her accent thick around the unfamiliar word.
“It seems you walked in on something that you shouldn’t have last night.”
“I won’t say a word,” she quickly says. “I promise. As far as I’m concerned, nothing happened. I just went home as usual.”
“Well, that’s good to hear,” my uncle says, her words not fazing him in the slightest. We’ve all heard it before. The begging and pleading, things anyone will say when their life is on the line. They’re just words, though, and we all know it can’t be trusted.
“But we can’t let you go. You must know that.”
Holly looks up at me, confusion clearly etched across her features. “But I don’t understand. If I can’t go home, where will I be going?”
Uncle Viktor gives her a big smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and points a hand at me. “Why, you’ll be going home with your husband, dear.”
Chapter5
Holly
Ilook up at Aleksandr, sure that I must have heard his uncle wrong, but his expression isn’t giving anything away. He’s just staring at me, his green eyes as unreadable as ever. The only sign that he’s in any way aware of my shock and confusion is the slight squeeze he gives my shoulder as if he’s silently willing me to keep my shit together.
I try. I really, really do.
“I don’t understand,” I finally say, looking between the two of them.
His uncle takes my hand and gives it what I’m guessing he thinks is a reassuring squeeze. I resist the urge to yank my hand away, figuring that pissing off a Bratva boss is probably not in my best interest. I’m suddenly feeling nauseated, and I’m not sure if it’s the shock or the cigar smoke.
“When Aleksandr found you, he had one of two choices: shoot you or marry you. Be happy he chose this one,” he says with a wink.
“But I swear I won’t say anything.”
He waves my promise away as if it’s nothing. “If you’re married, then you can’t be forced to testify against him in court. I’m afraid you don’t have a choice, dear.”
“But is a marriage legal if I’m forced into it?”
Viktor laughs and shoots aIs she really this naïvelook at Aleksandr that I don’t appreciate at all, before turning back to me and saying, “It is for the right price. It will be a legally binding marriage, witnessed, and the officiant will swear you were the happiest, blushing bride he’d ever seen.”
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. I know I should probably keep my damn mouth shut, but instead I open it like a dumbass and say, “A marriage just means I can’t be forced to testify, not that I can’t if I want to.”
Viktor arches a brow and says something in Russian to Aleksandr who immediately answers him in a tone that has the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end, but he gives my shoulder a soft squeeze, and that one small gesture has me instantly feeling more relaxed.