Page 38 of Arranged Marriage to the Brutal Bratva King
Every time I try to focus on the discussion, my mind drifts to Janice. To the way she’d looked at me three days ago when I pressed metal against her throat—terrified and furious and still somehow defiant. To the admission she’d made without hesitation, claiming responsibility for the exposé like it was something to be proud of.
To the heat I’d seen flash in her eyes despite the fear, despite everything.
She should have run. Should have quit her job, left the city, disappeared into obscurity where I couldn’t reach her.
Instead, she’s still in New York. Still consuming my thoughts in ways that make focusing on Volkov negotiations impossible.
“The engagement would be announced next month,” Viktor is saying. “Formal ceremony to follow within six months. This gives both families time to organize.”
“No.”
The word drops into conversation like a stone into still water.
Viktor stops mid-sentence. “Excuse me?”
“I said no. I won’t be proceeding with this arrangement.”
Silence descends, thick and heavy. Every eye in the room turns to me. Damien’s expression doesn’t change, but I see the tension in his shoulders, the slight narrowing of his eyes.
“Dimitri, this is unwise,” he starts.
“I appreciate the Volkovs’ interest,” I say, continuing to address Viktor directly. “I’ve found my own bride. The engagement won’t be necessary.”
Viktor’s face flushes red. “Your own bride? This is the first we’re hearing of this.”
“It’s recent. Very recent.”
“Who is she?” One of Viktor’s sons leans forward. “What family?”
“That’s not your concern.”
“It absolutely is our concern,” Viktor snaps. “We’ve been negotiating this arrangement for months. Resources have been committed, agreements made.”
“Nothing was finalized. No contracts signed.” I keep my voice level, almost bored. “I’m simply informing you that I’m no longer available for this particular alliance.”
Elena speaks for the first time, voice tight with barely controlled anger. “You’re humiliating us. In front of everyone.”
“That’s not my intention.”
“Isn’t it?” Her composure cracks slightly. “You sit here, waste our time, then announce you’ve found someone else? This is deliberate disrespect.”
She’s right. It is deliberate.
Two days ago, Felix’s intelligence team uncovered something interesting about the Volkovs. Shipping routes that don’t just move legitimate cargo. Containers that disappear frommanifests. Money that flows to organizations I’d rather not be associated with, even by alliance.
The Volkovs are trafficking. Not drugs or weapons. People. Women and children, specifically.
I won’t bind my family to that. Won’t legitimize it through marriage, no matter what strategic benefits it offers.
Damien would tell me to compartmentalize. Business is business. Personal morality doesn’t factor into alliance decisions.
He’d be wrong.
“I apologize for any inconvenience,” I say, standing. “My decision is final.”
Viktor stands as well, both hands flat on the table. “You can’t do this. We had an agreement!”
“We had a discussion, which is not the same thing.”
