Page 41 of The Bratva Enforcer and His Virgin Bride

Timofey looks exhausted already. “Fantastic,” he mutters. “Now I have to spend the next six months pacifying my wife.” He fixes me with another glare. “You couldn’t have chosen literally anyone else?”

I snap my fingers in his face once. “Are you listening?” I say sharply. “Karl chose her. Not me. Do you know anything about her? I know she already lost her father.”

Timofey leans back, the irritation easing into something more thoughtful. “Valeria and I don’t talk about her best friend,” he says after a pause. “But from what little I know… Sofia doesn’t talk about her family either. She was raised by her uncle. That’s who she’s always known.” He shrugs. “I doubt she ever knew her father in any real way.”

I nod once. That aligns. That fits what Karl implied. More pieces that don’t yet form a full picture. But enough to keep moving forward.

“So you’re getting married,” Samuel says, dragging the words out like he’s testing how ridiculous they sound. “That’s alittle weird. I thought you’d end up a monk. I’ve never seen you with a woman.”

I cut him a look. “Can you be serious for five seconds?”

He grins. “I am being serious.”

“No,” Konstantin says under his breath. “He is not.”

Dimitri finally speaks, voice calm but direct. “When’s the wedding?”

The room shifts again. The laughter fades a little. Now it’s business. Now it’s real.

“In two days,” I answer. A beat. Then I add, colder. “If I can make it happen faster, I will. I need access to the codes.”

Samuel whistles softly. “Two days,” he repeats. “You’re really doing this.”

“I don’t have time for doubt,” I say simply.

Timofey exhales through his nose, still looking personally unhappy about the entire situation. “You’re marrying a woman you don’t know,” he says.

“I’ve spoken to her.”

“That doesn’t count as knowing someone.”

“It’s enough for now.”

Konstantin leans forward, studying me. “And after the wedding?” he asks. “What then? You plan to keep her in the penthouse while you untangle Karl’s game?”

My jaw tightens briefly. “No. I move her to my estate while I stay in the penthouse. The less I see her, the better.”

Samuel raises a brow. “That sounds… healthy.”

I ignore him.

Dimitri tilts his head. “And if Karl is lying?”

A silence follows that question. He doesn’t need to elaborate. Because that is the real risk sitting underneath everything. Karl Jonathan does not involve himself in arrangements unless the outcome benefits him more than anyone else involved.

Which means Sofia Morozova is either the key or the bait.

I stare at the glass in front of me. The whiskey hasn’t been touched.

“I’ll find out,” I say finally.

Samuel sighs dramatically.

“Of course you will,” he mutters. “Because why would anything in our lives ever be simple?”

Sebastian finally leans back in his chair, watching me with a slow, measured look.

“I wish you luck, brother,” he says. “You’re going to need it.”