Page 75 of The Russian's Bought Bride

I was observant before, but I notice everything about Dani now.

The tension that used to sit permanently between her shoulders has eased, little by little, and has been replaced with a quieter trust. It’s cautious, given how our situation is still far too complicated for complete acceptance, but it’s also the kind built slowly through conversations at two in the morning, shared grief, and the understanding that neither of us can untangle ourselves from this mess until Malenkov and Volodin are dealt with.

It’s more than I expected to earn from her after everything, and likely more than I probably deserve, but I’ll take it anyway.

Tonight, though, I’m realizing there’s an entirely new form of stress I somehow failed to anticipate, given how this isn’t something I do often.

Somehow, even worse than facing down thugs who want to see my family’s empire collapse is the thought of bringing Danielle around my immediate family.

“This is a terrible idea,” I mutter as I steer the SUV through the gates of Roman’s estate, gripping a little harder than I need to. “Why did I think this was a good idea?”

In the passenger seat, Danielle glances over with obvious amusement. “You’re the one who invited me. I should be the one freaking out.”

“I was temporarily insane.”

“You’re still insane.”

A reluctant smile tugs briefly at my mouth before I pull into the sprawling circular driveway. Roman’s house sits high above the city, all impressive architecture and dark glass overlooking the glittering landscape below. At night, the Strip looks almost unreal from up here, glowing gold against the desert darkness.

Normally, family dinners here are loud enough to qualify as organized chaos between my siblings and their kids, but tonight will probably be worse. I can already feel it.

Danielle shifts slightly in her seat as I kill the engine.

“Nervous?”

She gives me a flat look and fixes her hair for the tenth time since we left. “I’m meeting an entire Bratva family, Nikolai. What do you think?”

I huff a laugh under my breath.

Strangely, hearing her say things like that no longer sends immediate panic through me. A few weeks ago, I was trying desperately to keep my worlds separated, but now, Danielle knows exactly who I am, and somehow, instead of running, she’s still here. That fact settles warmly in my chest every time I think about it too long, even if the implications of that are another problem entirely.

“You’ll be fine,” I tell her quietly as I pocket my key fob. “Honestly, you’re handling it better than I expected.”

“On the outside, maybe,” she mumbles before pulling in a deep, steadying breath. “And that’s easy for you to say.”

“No,” I say, opening my door. “It definitely isn’t.”

The truth is, this feels far too vulnerable in ways I never expected.

Bringing Danielle here means more than introducing her to relatives…it means exposing parts of myself I usually keep compartmentalized, letting her see where I came from and how intertwined loyalty and violence are within my family. It’s also about letting my family see her, too.

Maybe it shouldn’t matter this much, and I’m blowing everything out of proportion, but it does matter.

The second we step inside, noise hits immediately, between voices overlapping, laughter coming from somewhere deeper in the house, and music playing low through speakers.

Roman’s home always feels more alive when everyone gathers here. The massive open-concept living area is already crowded with family members, drinks in hand, food spread across the kitchen island as Vegas exists beyond the windows behind them.

Sergey spots me first, and I can tell from his eyes that he’s already buzzed. “Well, look who finally decided to stop being mysterious.”

Immediately, every head turns toward us, and Dani goes visibly tense beside me.

Christ.

Brushing my hand briefly against her lower back before guiding her forward, I murmur just for her, “Relax.”

It sounds like easy advice considering I’m internally reconsidering every decision that led to this moment, and wondering how I can slip away from this situation entirely.

But of course, I can’t, so I just have to face it.