She laughs and replies, “Fair enough. The bar is in the corner if you need reinforcement. No one will judge you.”
“Good to know.”
Menlow appears at my other side. “Ready?”
“No.”
“Too late.” He places a hand on the small of my back. The touch is light, but it steadies me. “Let’s start with my cousin Konstantin.”
He guides me across the room toward a tall man standing near the fireplace. Steel-gray eyes, close-cropped dark hair flecked with gray, and a jaw that could cut glass. He’s towering and broad-shouldered, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit. He’s in conversation with another man, whose lean muscles are visible even beneath his dressy clothes.
Both men turn as we approach. The weight of their attention is almost physical.
“Konstantin. Kolya.” Menlow’s voice is respectful but not deferential. These are his cousins, I remind myself. His equals, in a way. “I’d like you to meet my wife. Kirsten.”
The steel-gray eyes assess me. It’s not hostile, exactly. But it’s thorough. He’s inspecting everything about me—my posture, my face, and the way I’m standing. Looking for threats. Looking for weaknesses.
Konstantin extends a hand. His grip is firm. “Welcome to the family, Kirsten.”
“Thank you. You have a beautiful home.”
“My wife’s doing, not mine.” A hint of warmth enters his voice at the mention of his wife. “She’s around here somewhere. Probably trying to keep the children from destroying the garden.”
The other man—Kolya—doesn’t offer his hand. He just watches me with those unsettling blue-gray eyes.
“You work at the company Menlow acquired,” he states. Not a question.
“I do.”
“And now you’re married to him.”
“I am.”
“Quick turnaround.”
“Kolya.” Menlow’s tone carries a warning.
“I’m just making conversation.” But Kolya’s gaze doesn’t waver from my face. “It’s quite a coincidence, isn’t it? Employee one day, wife the next. Forgive me if I find that interesting.”
My spine stiffens. I don’t know this man, but I know scrutiny. He’s testing me. Probing for cracks.
“There’s no coincidence,” Menlow explains before I can respond. “Kirsten was in a dangerous situation because of the people at that company. I handled it.”
“By marrying her?”
“By doing what was necessary to protect her.”
Kolya’s eyebrow arches. “And she just happened to agree to that?”
“To be fair, she had no idea who I was or what my family does. She was an innocent employee who got caught up in something she didn’t understand. When I married her, she didn’t know anything about the Bratva world. I told her after.”
The silence that follows is heavy. Kolya’s face doesn’t change, but something in his posture seems to recalibrate. I can practically see him reassessing everything he thought he knew about this situation.
“So she’s completely clean,” Konstantin states, rubbing his chin.
“Completely. She’s not a plant, she’s not a spy, and she’s not using me for access. She’s my wife.” Menlow looks around the room, making sure others are listening. His voice carries. “That means she’s one of us now. Whatever protection we extend to family, we extend to her.”
I don’t know what to say. I didn’t expect him to defend me like this. Didn’t expect him to make it so clear, so public, that I’m under his protection.
