Konstantin studies me for another long moment. Then he nods.
“Again, welcome to the family, Kirsten. Truly.” This time, the words sound genuine. “I apologize if Kolya’s questions made you uncomfortable. We’ve learned to be cautious.”
“I understand.” And I do, surprisingly. I can only imagine the way they’ve been burned before in their line of work. Betrayed by people who got close to exploit their connections. It makes sense that they’d be suspicious of a sudden marriage.
“She’s tougher than she looks,” Menlow adds. “She’s been handling everything I’ve thrown at her remarkably well.”
“High praise from you.” A new voice joins the conversation. I turn to find a blond man approaching. He’s dressed immaculately, with every detail of his appearance polished to perfection. His smile is wide and easy. Charming in a way that seems almost too natural. “You must be the mysterious wife. I’m Dmitry, your husband’s cousin.”
“Kirsten.”
“I know. Everyone knows. It’s all anyone’s been talking about since Menlow called ahead.” He leans in conspiratorially. “You’ve made quite the impression without even being here. That takes talent.”
Despite myself, I smile. There’s something disarming about Dmitry. He’s like a golden retriever in human form—impossible not to like.
“Don’t let him charm you too much,” Menlow warns. “It’s how he gets information.”
“Slander.” Dmitry presses a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I’m simply being welcoming. Unlike some people.” He shoots a pointed look at Kolya, who ignores him completely.
A woman appears at Dmitry’s side—his wife, judging by the way she looks at him so adoringly. She’s curvaceous and confident, with the bearing of someone who knows exactly who she is.
“Are you terrorizing the new girl already?”
“I’m rescuing her from the inquisition.” Dmitry slides an arm around the woman’s waist. “This is my wife, Angelika.”
“Welcome to the madness.” Angelika teases with a giggle. “If you need an escape from the men and their posturing, the women are gathered in the sunroom. Much more civilized.”
“I might take you up on that.”
“Please do. Sera’s been dying to meet you. She was an outsider once, too. She gets it.”
Before I can respond, a small body crashes into Dmitry’s legs. A little girl, maybe four or five, with her mother’s dark hair and her father’s bright eyes.
“Papa! Uncle Max said a bad word!”
“Did he now?” Dmitry scoops her up with ease. “What word?”
The girl cups her hands around his ear and whispers. Whatever she says makes Dmitry laugh.
“That’s definitely a bad word. I’ll have a talk with Uncle Max.”
I watch the exchange with something like wonder. This is a Bratva family. These are dangerous men who deal in weapons and violence, and God knows what else. And yet here’s Dmitry, holding his daughter while his wife rolls her eyes affectionately.
It doesn’t match the image in my head. Nothing about today matches the image in my head.
“You look overwhelmed.” Menlow’s voice is low, meant only for me.
“I am.”
“In a good way or a bad way?”
I consider the question. The scrutiny from Kolya was uncomfortable. The wealth is intimidating. The sheer number of people is exhausting.
But there’s also laughter here. Children running around without fear. Wives who clearly love their husbands. A family that, despite its dark business dealings, seems genuinely connected.
“I don’t know yet,” I admit.
He nods like that’s a fair answer. “Take your time. There’s no pressure to have everything figured out tonight.”
