Chapter 18 - Zara
The next morning, I make my way to the dining room. It being late, I expected to find myself alone, but stop in my tracks when I see Abram already seated on the table, buttering up some toast.
“Morning.” His eyes run across my body, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Morning,” I murmur, tucking my hair behind my ears, praying I look alright. Last night, he showed me his world, his business. He put a gun to a man, and still, I begged to fuck him. He refused.
Clearly, this whole Bratva thing is scary, but not enough to make me run.
He pulls up a chair for me beside him, and I take my place. He’s fresh out of the shower; I can smell it on the scent of chamomile and lavender he bathed in.
I blush, thinking of his chiseled chest, all naked.
He leans over, pouring me some coffee. "You know, Zara, there's still one thing I haven't shown you."
My stomach knots. What more could there be? Another torture dungeon?
"Oh?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady despite the nervous flutter in my heart. Whatever it is, we can deal with it.
Abram's fingers touch my hand as he passes me a plate of fruit, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "The Bratva… it's more than just business. It's family."
I hold my breath, waiting for him to continue.
"Tonight," he says, his gaze intense, "you'll meet them. My family."
I nod slowly, unease swirling within me. His family—more people enshrouded in mystery and danger.
Just what I need. Not.
***
As evening falls, I stand before the mirror, smoothing down the silky fabric of my dress. I put on some jewelry and go for a neutral shade of lipstick. I’m nervous beyond belief. I’ve met Vladimir before, and our previous encounter still turns the taste in my mouth sour.
Will they all be like Vladimir? Cold, calculating, clearly despising of me? Will Abram's family accept me? Can I handle their strong personalities?
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the night ahead. This isn't just about meeting his family; it's about proving I belong in Abram's world.
With one final glance at my reflection, I make my way to the kitchen. The staff bustles about, preparing for the evening's dinner.
"Elena," I call out to the head chef, "is everything on track for tonight?"
She nods, a reassuring smile on her face. "Of course, Miss Zara. We've prepared all of the Zolotov family's favorites."
I feel a wave of gratitude wash over me. "Thank you. I want everything to be perfect."
As I give final instructions to the staff, it hits me how much I want Abram's family to approve of me. The realization of how deeply I care for him, how much he means to me, is both thrilling and terrifying.
And here he thinks he’s doing this, so I stay. When the truth is, meeting his family has turned the game on its head. Now, it’s not about seeing the whole of his world. It’s about understanding where or if I can fit in.
I clutch the kitchen counter, steadying myself. You can do this, Zara, I whisper to myself. For Abram.
As I'm lost in thought, the kitchen door swings open. Abram strides in, a vision in his perfectly tailored suit. His presence immediately fills the room, and the staff stand to attention, ending their chatter partly out of fear and partly out of respect. He’s that commanding and powerful, yet his eyes soften when they meet mine.
"You look beautiful," he says, his warm smile melting away some of my anxiety.
I feel a blush creep up my cheeks. "Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself."
Abram chuckles, then turns to the staff. "Everything in order?"
"Yes, Sir," Elena responds promptly.
He nods, satisfied. "Excellent. Zara, shall we?"
Taking my hand, Abram leads me to the living room. The rich scent of leather and wood envelops us as we enter. He guides me to a plush armchair, his touch gentle but firm.
"Relax," he murmurs, pouring scotch into a crystal glass. "Everything will be fine. Trust the staff; they know what they're doing."
I accept the drink, grateful for something to occupy my hands. "I know, it's just… your family. They're important to you."
Abram kneels before me, his intense gaze capturing mine. "And you're important to me. They'll love you, Zara. How could they not?"
I take a sip of my drink, savoring the burn. "You make it sound so simple."
"Because it is," he says, rising. "Now, let's head to the dining room. They'll be arriving soon."
I stand, squaring my shoulders and plastering on what I hope is a confident smile. As we walk, I can't help but wonder what the night will bring.
***
The dining room takes my breath away. A long, polished table stretches before us, set with fine china and gleaming silverware. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the room, their light dancing off the elegant place settings.
"Wow," I breathe, taking in the grandeur. "This is… something else."
Abram's hand rests on the small of my back, a comforting presence. "Too much?"
I shake my head, trying to quell the butterflies in my stomach. "No, it's perfect. Just… intimidating."
He leans in, his breath tickling my ear. "Remember, this is about you knowing who I am in every element of my life. It’s not about you impressing them, but whether we stand a chance to keep you around."
I nod, though I can’t make myself buy what he’s saying. To me, it’s all about impressing them. The distant sound of a bell ringing reaches us. My heart rate spikes, and I take a deep breath.
"Ready?" Abram asks, his eyes searching mine.
I squeeze his hand, drawing strength from his unwavering support. "As I'll ever be."
The moment of truth has arrived, and I silently pray I'm up for the challenge that awaits.
***
The door swings open, and I feel the atmosphere shift immediately. Vladimir strides in, his piercing gaze sweeping the room before landing on me. Tall, imposing. I’d recognize that aura of ambition anywhere.
"Brother," he nods at Abram, then turns to me. "So, she finally knows."
I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet his intense stare. “Would you like a drink?”
Before Vladimir can respond, another man bursts through the door, his movements sharp and agitated.
“Denis,” Abram pulls him into a hug.
“Your bloody doorman.” he glowers. “He dared ask me my name! As though he hasn’t seen me before. Have him fired, will you?” he asks, clearly angry.
“I own the apartment, not the building,” Abram replies, amused. Denis’s eyes narrow as they land on me.
"Let's get this over with," he mutters, making his way to the table.
I feel Abram tense beside me, but I squeeze his hand, silently reassuring him. We can do this.
Just a moment later, the last brother—Mark, I assume—enters with a smooth smile, immediately diffusing some of the tension. "Ah, the lovely Zara. We've heard so much about you."
Besides him is a woman with long, raven-black hair.
Lara. I recognize Abram’s sister from all the photos in the media.
“Hi, Zara,” she whispers, leaning in and brushing a soft kiss on my cheek. She feels warm, sweet.
“Hi.” I smile at her.
She links her arm through mine. “Come,” she says loudly. “Let’s pour out some drinks. To bear these fools, I’d say we’ll need some, don’t you?”
I can’t help but laugh.
Drinks in hand, we finally make our way to the table.
Vladimir wastes no time, leaning forward with a predatory focus. "So, Zara, how does it feel knowing you’re with a criminal?"
I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "He’s good to me,” I reply.
Denis scoffs. "And you think you're equipped to handle our world? The dangers, the responsibilities?"
"I'm a quick learner," I reply, meeting his gaze steadily. "And I'm not afraid of challenges."
Mark interjects, his tone diplomatic. "What about your own ambitions, Zara? Surely, you must have plans of your own."
I pause, considering my words carefully. "I do. I've always dreamed of opening my own art gallery. I see no reason why my own dreams must have a backseat. I'm willing to find a balance."
Vladimir leans back, a hint of approval in his eyes. "Interesting. And how do you plan to contribute to our family's… business interests?"
I feel Abram tense beside me, but I press on. "I may not have experience in your way of life but I do have other things: discretion, loyalty, and a fresh perspective. And as for what doesn’t suit my tastes, your family is large enough to handle all that, don’t you think? I’ve heard about your cousins, Ivan and Boris."
“True,” Denis whistles, leaning back with a smile. “Besides, the women usually prefer managing the homes.”
I suddenly feel nervous, wondering if that’s what this family expects of me. Babies, running a home? I look over at Abram, nervous beyond belief, but the tension is diffused when Lara scoffs and throws a piece of bread in her brother’s direction. “Speak for yourself!”
I watch her, amazed, while Mark roars with laughter.
“Lara here,” Abram explains, “helps run her husband’s family business.”
“Oh?” I ask, intrigued and relieved that being a homemaker isn’t what I would be reduced to. “And what is it he does?”
“Shoot, kill, steal, Darling,” Mark sings with a notorious grin. “Just like the rest of us.”
I grin, realizing the jokes make them all seem so… normal. They might be in the Bratva, but hell, they’ve got a sense of humor.
“He’s away on business,” Lara explains sweetly. “But yes, I do help him out.”
“And you don’t…get afraid?” I ask, unable to help myself.
She looks at me like a curious cat but gives me a soft shake of the head. “I was initially,” she tells me. “But with time, this world toughens you up.”
“Do you think you have that?” Vladimir asks, squinting his eyes at me. “You look… soft.”
“Vlad,” Abram warns in a low growl.
“What, Brother? She thinks she understands our world, but she hasn’t seen a man being shot to death now, has she?”
"Well, well," Lara says, her lips curving into a smirk. “Trying to scare her off, Vlad? Don’t you worry.” She leans toward me. “They act all big and bad but are little boys at heart. Trust me, it’s not that bad.”
I can't help but feel a spark of kinship with her as she clinks her glass against mine. "Thank you," I reply, offering a small smile. “You’re a real ally.”
Lara chuckles, a warm sound that eases some of the tension in the room. "So, Zara, tell me about yourself. What do you do when my charming brothers are not grilling you?"
"I'm an interior decorator and art curator," I say, grateful for the change in tone. "I manage a gallery downtown.”
Her eyes light up. "No way! I've always wanted to invest in art. But it’s impossibly subjective."
I lean in, excited to share my passion. "Oh, it can be tricky, but I could teach you the secrets. It's all about getting the right value at the right time. It’s the upcoming artists that make the best investments now unless you’re willing to drop tens of millions on the classics. But even with those, one will reach a point beyond which the purchase doesn’t make sense."
As Lara and I chat about art, I notice the atmosphere in the room shifting. Vladimir's stern expression softens slightly, and even Denis seems less combative. Mark nods approvingly as he listens to our conversation and begins to value my perspective.
"You know," Lara says, glancing at her brothers, "I think Zara here might be exactly what our family needs. A breath of fresh air, don't you think?"
I feel a warmth spreading through my chest as the siblings exchange looks. The interrogation gives way to more casual conversation, and I find myself relaxing into my chair. Abram's hand finds mine under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
As the evening progresses, I realize that the initial hostility has melted away. We're laughing at Denis's dry jokes, debating Mark's views on current events, and even Vladimir is asking my opinion on hotel interior matters.
I catch Abram's eye, and the pride I see there makes my heart skip a beat. Maybe, just maybe, I've found my place in this world.
As the conversation flows, I find my gaze drawn to Abram. He's in his element, surrounded by his siblings, and I'm struck by the subtle ways he interacts with each of them. There's a gentleness in his eyes when he looks at Lara, a protective arm slung around her shoulders as he refills her glass. With Vladimir, there's a silent understanding communicated through nods and raised eyebrows. Even with the volatile Denis, Abram knows exactly how to defuse tensions with a well-timed joke or change of subject.
"You're quite the peacekeeper, aren't you?" I murmur to Abram when he returns to my side.
He chuckles softly. "Someone has to be. Family is… complicated."
I watch as he smoothly intervenes in a heated debate between Mark and Vladimir, his words carefully chosen to soothe both egos. It hits me then—this is why he kept me in the dark about not just the Bratva but also his family. He's been protecting me, shielding me from their outright and, oftentimes, temperamental personalities.
I get it now, I think to myself.
As the night winds down, the siblings begin to take their leave. Hugs are exchanged, and promises of future gatherings are made. I'm surprised when Vladimir pulls me into a brief, gruff embrace.
"Welcome to the family," he mutters before striding out the door. I watch, surprised, remembering how he insinuated I was a gold digger the last time around.
Once we're alone, Abram pulls me close, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my back. "So, how was it?"
I look up at him, seeing the mild nervousness in his eyes. As much as I want to be accepted by his family, he wants me to accept them. “I won’t lie,” I murmur. “It was terrifying. Intense.”
He frowns.
“But I loved them,” I add.
He breaks into a small, incredulous smile, his forehead furrowing in that perfect, endearing manner. When he looks like this, he’s the epitome of what it means to be ruggedly handsome, and a storm of desire gushes over me.
I stand on my toes, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Thank you, Abram. For trusting me with this. For showing me your world, your family."
He cups my face in his hands, his gaze intense. "They are my strength but also my greatest weakness. And now, so are you."
His words sink in, and my heart races. I’m suddenly aware of every point where our bodies touch, and with that, I'm reminded of our unfinished business from the previous night. I lean in, pressing my lips to his neck, tasting the salt on his skin.
"Zara," Abram breathes, his voice husky.
I pull back, meeting his gaze. "I want to show you how much I appreciate you," I murmur, my fingers trailing down his chest. "How much I understand the risk you've taken bringing me into the fold.”
His eyes darken with desire. "You don't have to—"
“Oh, but I want to,” I murmur, reaching out behind my back. His eyes widen as he hears the zip slide down my back. Slowly, I reach for the straps of my dress, letting them fall just gently down to my arms. His eyes flick between mine, to my lips, to the swell of my breasts slowly revealed as the dress slips down.
“Zara—” he tries protesting, even though I see the pain he’s in from holding back.
I reach up and silence him with a kiss.