Page 84 of Bought By Sin

And they didn’t ask to offer me any pity or sympathy.

The more I opened my eyes, the more I saw how genuine they were.

Throughout that meeting, as they discussed the developments that had followed in the week after my capture when I spied, they didn’t try to conceal any of the intel. No one glanced at me and seemed hesitant for me to hear any of what was shared. Viktor had made that one comment before, about everyone bringing women into the meetings. But he didn’t have that sarcastic attitude now.

Maybe it’s because I proved that I’m willing to go to any length to serve them and work for them?

Did it take being captured and beaten to show them that I’m willing to stick with them?

Something had changed in my mindset about my “employment” status for them.

As I sat there and stayed in the background while they all spoke, I was sobered with the realization that I was no longer here only because I had to be. I was here because I wanted to be. I wanted to help however I could. Fully committed to helping Lev dismantle Gregori’s network, I embraced my new identity.

Not one that denoted me as his slave or purchase.

But as the woman who could comfort him and bring a selective set of stealth and speed to the table as someone the family could rely on when times got tough.

31

LEV

Adrik sat back in the big leather chair behind the desk. Slanting with his elbow on the armrest, his chin in hand, eyes narrowed with that pensive smirk, he looked like a carbon copy of Uncle Dmitri.

I zoned out as Maksim went on about the maps and input from the spies.

Seeing my oldest cousin seated there like that, probably unaware that he had the same mannerisms as his father, I breathed through a bit of heartache.

Sometimes, it was easy with the chaos and commotion of being an enforcer for the family to “forget” that Uncle Dmitri wasn’t the Pakhan anymore.

When I let myself get hooked on the idea of making Mila mine, the fantasies about her overtook the memories that I’d always hold dear in my heart. All the times he’d laughed. The sound of his stern voice, so full of logic and wisdom and authority when he had handled meetings just like this one we were doing now. The sincere control and concern that emanated from him no matter how low or high the stakes were.

He’d be gone soon.

He already was gone in a functional sense.

And I was damned that I could still cling to him and not want to let him go.

Would we always make him proud?

Would he be confident in all the decisions we’d make?

Would he forever trust in us to follow the expectations he’d set forth as our leader?

Would he… miss us too?

I hadn’t struggled with any of those worries or intrusive thoughts when Gregori “died”. He’d turned traitor in the worst way possible, and there was no morsel of my soul that would be convinced of his worthiness for redemption. He was irredeemable through and through, but it was at moments like this where I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

In this limbo of painfully saying goodbye to the man I’d always seen as my true father and the scornful greeting of his brother who wanted to usurp the wealth and power we’d maintained in his absence.

Mila slipped her hand into mine. I almost flinched, not expecting to be touched while we all listened to Maksim laying out the timeline of Yusef Antonov’s supposed movements. With that simple gesture, of her leaning in slightly to take my hand, she jarred me out of my despairing and depressing thoughts.

She knows.

She was that connected, that aware. Already, she had my tells down, and I had not a single doubt in my head that she was always tracking how I was doing—just as I did with her.

Because she cares.

She’s getting there.