Page 6 of Hunted Bride

“I didn’t hear that part.”

“Because you had your face buried in your phone like always. You’re more addicted to that device than my friends at school are, Ilarion.” Lilia is a law student in New York City. She flew back for the funeral, but she’s supposed to go back soon.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a dress to deliver.” I ignore her childish insult. She’s the baby of the family, and we’ve always had a good relationship. Hence her feeling comfortable enough to barge into my private house.

Each brother has a home of his own within the Orlov family compound. The four of us brothers cannot share a roof without fighting. We also need to be nearby for business and security reasons. Building each of us our own house on the same property was my parents’ solution. Lilia, when she’s home from New York, stays with Mamochka and Otets.

Just Mamochka, now. My throat tightens.

“Can I take it to him?” Lilia says. “I want to meet the new girl.”

“Nah. He’s keyed up enough already. Doesn’t need his bratty little sister’s advice on the subject.” Teasing our brother is my job, and I take it damn seriously.

I carry the paper shopping bag across the family compound, where each of us has our own smaller house arrayed around the largest house. Here in Las Vegas, rougher neighborhoods abut more exclusive ones. Our family compound is protected by an eight-foot-tall iron fence, a legion of bratva byki—guards; literally, it means “bulls”—and a layer of tech security systems run by me and my twin brother Luka.

Who, mysteriously, seems to have disappeared.

No one is worried about him, though. Everyone’s too shaken by our patriarch’s death and this mess reckless Nikolai has gotten himself into.

I feel bad for him, honestly. Nik looked up to our father, God rest his soul. We all did, but being the youngest son, Nik always felt like he had something to prove. Everyone gives each other shit in this family, but he takes our playful ribbing harder than he should.

Especially Maxim’s. Nik wants his approval so badly. Max is a grumpy control freak who acts like he’s owed his brothers’ adoration. Luka and I have each other. We can shrug it off. Nik, on the other hand, has only gotten more resentful and reckless as Max withholds the approval he desperately wants.

Nik is a loose cannon. Not a bad guy, but thoughtless. Doesn’t think through consequences. That can get an entire bratva family wiped off the map. I can’t see Mamochka handing him control even if he did get married first. Maybe this Sierra telka will give him the sense of authority and approval he craves.

I knock on his door and step back. He yanks it open.

“So you got a wife. I’ll be damned,” I say in Russian. I still haven’t seen this stolen bride of his. I don’t let go of the bag of clothes. A brief tug-of-war breaks out. He’s keyed up. Tries to slam the door in my face.

“Don’t be nosy,” Nik snarls.

“I can’t help it. How did you, a guy who prides himself on never sleeping with a girl twice, find a chick stupid enough to let you put a ring on it? How do you know she’s not a spy?” I crane my neck trying to see around him. There’s an unspoken rule that we don’t invade each other’s houses.

“Bribery,” Nik mutters. I don’t think he’s lying. I punch him in the shoulder for being an idiot. He doesn’t laugh it off the way he normally would. Now I’m really curious about this stranger in our midst. Lilia has already declared her intention of serving as a bridesmaid, whether the poor woman wants her there, or not. Better tell our little brother.

“Lilia says she’s coming along to be a bridesmaid.” I smirk. Nik groans and scrubs his face.

“The hell she is.”

“Figured I’d come, too. Be your groomsman.” I bump his shoulder. Gentler this time.

“Why aren’t you out looking for a wife?” he asks, crossing his arms.

“Maybe I already have one.” I force a grin, but it’s fake. Strained. I hate lying to my family. So I make jokes to cover it up. Always a quick comeback. What would it feel like to be able to tell them about Milena?

Excruciating, that’s what. They’d break every bone in my body—and that would be the punishment from the people who supposedly care about me.

I have barely enough time to check the security camera footage while I dress for Nik’s wedding. In the background, the section I was playing on a loop unfreezes and a second woman blows in. Shit. How did I miss seeing Alisa Morozov arrive at Milena’s apartment?

Cause you were jerking off to her sister, idiot. I watch the entire interaction. It doesn’t last more than ten minutes. She barges in, they argue, Milena gives her all the money in her wallet and an object out of her junk drawer—third one from the fridge, top level; I could navigate her apartment blindfolded yet I’ve never set foot inside it—and Alisa leaves.

I scan through the other cameras I have planted around her building. Timestamped less than three minutes later, I find footage of Milena’s aged Honda emerging from the parking lot. The driver floors it down the street.

“You’re not my Mouse,” I mutter. But why in the hell is Alisa driving off in her sister’s car?

Before I can concoct a cover story for how I know Max’s arranged bride ran off in her sister’s car, we are beset by a different problem.

Nik’s bride, Sierra, runs off the day after they’re married.