Page 46 of The Bratva Stalker's Ruthless Claim
She studies me over the rim of her drink for a moment, her sharp eyes taking in everything.
“You don’t look like the type who would marry a Rusnak,” she says casually. “But I’m not surprised. All the Rusnak men somehow manage to find beautiful, elegant women for themselves.”
I sigh quietly.
I barely know this woman. Logically, I shouldn’t be saying anything personal to her. But there’s something about her presence that feels…safe. Disarming.
“My husband is a nice man,” I admit carefully. “But I never envisioned being trapped in a Bratva world.”
Valeria’s expression softens slightly.
“I understand,” she says. “I was born into it.”
She pauses before taking another sip.
“But I can’t really empathize with you,” she adds honestly. “Because I don’t know what it’s like to live a normal life outside of this.”
Her tone isn’t defensive. Just matter-of-fact.
“What I do know,” she continues, “is that this is a man’s world. Especially here.”
I nod slowly.
She leans a little closer, her voice dropping into something more serious.
“And women in this world?” she says. “We have to fight twice as hard to be seen. Twice as hard to be heard. Twice as hard to be respected.”
“I agree,” I say quietly.
She lifts her glass again, pointing it lightly in my direction.
“So keep fighting for yourself,” she says. “And make sure your husband understands one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“That you’re not a pushover.”
I’m about to respond when a man steps up beside her.
“Miss Petrov,” he says respectfully, “your father is asking for you.”
Valeria’s expression changes instantly. The easy humor disappears, replaced by something more controlled.
Her smile tightens slightly.
She glances at me one last time, lifts her glass in a small farewell gesture, then slides off the stool.
“Nice meeting you, Ellie,” she says.
And just like that, she walks away.
I turn slightly on the stool, letting my gaze follow her as she crosses the lawn. She disappears through one of the large glass doors leading into the house.
I like her.
The thought lingers for a moment as I take another small sip of my drink.
Just as I start to look away, movement catches my attention.
