Page 6 of Bratva Prince

“Perhaps after the honeymoon,” she told him.

That earned the smallest flicker of genuine amusement from him.Interesting.He leaned one shoulder lightly against the edge of the table.His posture was relaxed, but Sofia noted his grey eyes remained alert.A predator pretending not to stalk.

“The wedding security arrangements are already underway,” he said.“My brother wants the event heavily guarded.”

“My father too,” she added.

“Sensible.”

Sofia took a small sip of whiskey.It was the expensive sort, and went down her throat smoothly.

“Your family tends to favor excessive force,” she observed lightly.

“Your family hired professional killers for a simple hotel meeting,” he said with a shrug.

She wasn’t surprised how observant he was.

“Only because Volkov men have such difficult reputations,” she quipped.

Dimitri’s gaze sharpened slightly.Point for point, with neither giving ground.Everything about the conversation felt layered beneath the surface, and even the pauses seemed strategic.

Sofia studied him openly now.

“You’ve handled negotiations with rival organizations before.”

It was not a question.

Dimitri tilted his head slightly.“You researched me.”

“Wouldn’t you?”Sofia asked.

“Yes.”

At least he was honest about it.Sofia set her glass down carefully.“I heard the Volkovs preferred fear over diplomacy.”

“Fear is more reliable.”

The answer came too smoothly and practiced.

Sofia wondered how many people had learned that lesson painfully from him.She decided to test him.

“You visit the Volkov shipping docks personally every Thursday night,” she said casually.“That suggests you don’t trust reports unless you verify them yourself.”

One of Dimitri’s men outside the conference room shifted almost imperceptibly.Dimitri himself didn’t react at all, which was reaction enough.

His eyes narrowed just slightly, assessing her differently now.Good.She wanted him to realize she was not ornamental or harmless.Then he countered immediately.

“The guard outside this room,” Dimitri said calmly, “the one pretending to check his phone every thirty seconds.He’s carrying a Beretta beneath his left shoulder holster instead of waistband placement.”

Sofia blinked once despite herself.

“He favors his right side when standing,” Dimitri continued.“Which means he injured his left knee recently.Probably within the last year.”

A chill slid quietly down her spine.She liked to think it wasn’t fear, just awareness of him.Nothing escaped him then.Dimitri took another slow sip of whiskey.

“You’ll have protection in the Volkov estate,” he said.“But there are rules you’ll need to adapt to.”

There it was, presumed ownership, control disguised as practicality.Sofia felt irritation sharpen instantly beneath her calm exterior.The same assumption all powerful men eventually made.That marriage translated into obedience.Slowly, she set her whiskey glass down.Then she met his gaze fully.