I was the wife of a Russian Bratva boss, one whose name struck fear into the hearts of his enemies. This was my new reality, and I’d come to terms with it. When the man who was supposed to protect me left me for dead, Demyon Tarasov had stepped in and saved the day.
He was a ruthless beast to many.
But to me, he was a hero, a husband, and a potential father. Demyon was my home. With him, I felt safe.
Chapter 28 —Demyon
Five Months Later
Her belly was already swelling, and with each passing day she was losing her strength but not her will. Despite everything, she was still as beautiful as ever, and when she smiled, something always cracked open inside me.
Because of her presence, the mansion was no longer just a place I spent my free time. It was now a place I proudly called home. Eva was the light in my dark, the other half that completed me. It took a long time for me to realize that, but I finally did, and I’d never been happier.
She laughed more often these days, smiled more too. And perhaps that was the secret behind her glowing skin. Our relationship was more defined now after spending so much time together; we’d become inseparable.
Wherever I went, I took her with me—including every Bratva meeting I’d attended within the last five months. At first, my colleagues weren’t comfortable with me bringing my wife along. But with time, they grew used to having her around.
Eva had never participated in our conversations; she’d just sit there in silence, watching and observing. As time went on, the Bratva leaders began to respect her silence. They knew wasn’t dumb or stupid. She didn’t want to speak without being spoken to.
She understood that these leaders were traditional Russian men, and her silence was nothing but respect for their culture.
On multiple occasions, they’d teased me about never leaving her side and how I could no longer hide my affection for her. A few of the younger men even labeled our union as something admirable. And according to them, they couldn’t wait to find their own missing ribs.
To the outside world, I was still a ruthless brute, cruel and merciless in every way. However, when I was alone with my wife, I was a totally different person: nicer, softer and more affectionate.
She was no longer just an instrument for my entertainment; she was no longer a prisoner. She was my wife, my partner, someone I was starting to consider bringing into my inner circle. Eva was a smart woman, and with those big brains of hers, I was certain that she would be useful to the organization if I gave her the chance.
I came to this conclusion after she advised me on how to tackle a particular Bratva issue. During the meeting with the Bratva elites, she listened to our deliberations but didn’t contribute.
She’d waited until we were back home, and while we were having dinner that night, she chipped in her thoughts. At first, it didn’t make much sense to me, but after listening to the detailed breakdown of her plan, I was speechless.
Maybe it was my masculine pride or something, but I didn’t let her see how impressed I was by her wisdom. I thanked her anyway for the contribution, and the very next day, I called my cousin, Adrik. After pitching the idea to him, he bought it immediately, saying it was the best plan he’d heard all day.
A few weeks later, she did it again; she advised me on another issue. When we implemented it as an organization, the results were outstanding. That’s when I knew that she was much smarter than I’d given her credit for.
Since then, I never took her words for granted, and I began paying close attention to every suggestion she gave. Eva had proven time and time again that she was more than capable of helping our organization grow.
No one knew that she was the brain behind the brilliant ideas I’d been coming up with lately. I didn’t want to tell thembecause, knowing the kind of people that they were, they would doubt me.
Although I hadn’t given her permission to speak up at our meetings, deep down, I wanted her to do so on her own accord. I wanted to see the shock on my associates’ faces when she opened her mouth to spill a fraction of her wisdom.
A part of me wanted to bring her into the folds. But the other part of me was afraid of dragging her into the violence of my world. It was clear as crystal that she was smart enough to handle herself and still be very useful to the organization.
However, in my eyes, she was still a delicate little thing that I must protect with my life.
Essentially, this was an internal fight between Demyon Tarasov, the Bratva boss and Demyon Tarasov, the husband.
The Bratva boss wanted to do right by the organization by bringing her onboard as a valuable asset. The husband, on the other hand, wanted to do right by his wife by keeping her safe from any form of violence.
One evening, in my study at home, Adrik and Ilya were discussing a plan they’d come up with.
We were standing over my table, palms braced against the polished wood. A map of the docks was spread over the surface with red and blue markers indicating significant buildings and areas.
Eva was sitting on the couch at a safe distance, her eyes pinned on the pages of the novel in her hand. She sat there as though she wasn’t listening, as though she was engrossed in the book she was reading. However, knowing her, I was certain that later on, she’d point out our mistakes to me.
“We move here,” Adrik said, tapping a point on the map. “Ten minutes after the exchange. Fast. Quiet.”
Ilya stroked his chin, nodding his head. “Yeah. That’s a good idea.”
