Sofia
It’s been a week.
I know Sergei better than I did on our wedding day, but barely. We don’t talk. Not really. We exist in the same space without getting in each other’s way. He’s never asked me to return to his bedroom. He doesn’t touch me. Never attempts to kiss me.
It’s a very strange marriage, but I think I know what he’s doing.
That’s assuming I’m giving him the benefit of being a human capable of emotions. I’m not sure I’m willing to give him that just yet.
But he’s not a monster.
I don’t think.
When I think about it, I can acknowledge he’s done nothing bad to me. He’s only protected me.
Seven days of cohabitation with a man I've known for less than two weeks and trusted for three years without knowing it. The math doesn't work and yet here I am, learning he likes his scotch neat and his coffee black.
Tonight I have to be something other than the woman living in his house.
I have to be his wife and meet his family.
I walk downstairs wearing a dress I picked out for tonight. I’m rebuilding my wardrobe on his dime. Sergei insisted.
Sergei and Nelson are in the foyer talking when I step down.
They both turn to look at me.
Sergei’s gaze sends heat swirling through my body. And then his eyes are on mine. I don’t know what I was expecting. A compliment? Irritation that I chose a dress that is just a little sexier than I would normally choose?
I might have done that on purpose. A lady needs to feel sexy sometimes. And with the last week, I’ve felt a little—neglected. I can’t help but think my inexperience in bed disappointed him.
“We’re late,” he says in a gruff tone.
He doesn’t like the dress.
That makes me smile.
The restaurant is expensive. Two Michelin stars.
Nelson and Kirill stand at the door with two more guards standing outside the entrance.
We’re led to a table by a hostess that apparently knows Sergei.
Two men approach the table just as I'm settling into my seat. They're both tall, both dark-haired, both carrying themselves with that same predatory grace that seems to be a Sokolov family trait.
The first one reaches us and grins. "Seryozha!" He claps Sergei on the shoulder with genuine affection. "You actually did it. You got married."
"Maksim," Sergei says. There's warmth in his voice I've never heard before. "Sofia, this is my brother Maksim. He runs our operations in Miami."
Maksim turns those blue eyes—lighter than Sergei's and with a hint of playfulness—on me. "The infamous Sofia Baranova." He takes my hand and brings it to his lips. "I can see why my brother was willing to start a war."
I wasn’t even aware there were brothers until this very moment. I’m left speechless.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I murmur.
He's younger than Sergei by at least five years, maybe more. Handsome in a more obvious way. Where Sergei is all sharp edges and controlled danger, Maksim is charming. Relaxed.
The second brother steps forward. "Nikolai," he introduces himself, offering his hand for a more traditional shake. "Vegas."
Nikolai is somewhere between Sergei and Maksim in age, I'd guess. Mid-thirties. He's quieter, more reserved. His eyes assess me with the same calculating intelligence I see in Sergei.
I look to Sergei. He nods at the chair he’s still holding out for me.
I sit. I have no idea what’s happening.
And then I do.
They’re sizing me up.
Am I worthy of their brother’s hand in marriage. They have to know this is a business arrangement. But I get it. They need to know I’m not going to shiv their brother in the middle of the night.
Verdict is still out on that.
"You're finishing your degree?" Maksim asks during the first course.
"Business. Yes.”
"And you’re running the Baranov operations,” Nikolai says.
“Yes.”
A sommelier appears with a bottle of wine. Sergei nods once, and our glasses are poured. I take a sip of wine.
"And now you're married to our brother," Nikolai says. It's not quite a question. More like he's testing how I'll respond.
"I am." I meet his gaze. "Which benefits both our organizations."
"Strategic," Maksim says with a grin. "I like her already."
The conversation flows easier after that. I get a better sense of the hierarchy. Sergei oversees the operation as a whole, but his brothers run the cities. Judging by the respect I see between them, he sees them as equals, but they still see him as the top dog.
I like that.
Maksim asks about my degree, my plans for the Baranov operations. Nikolai is quieter but I catch him watching me with that same assessing look. They're both trying to figure out if I'm an asset or a liability.
I notice Sergei watching me too. Not obviously. But I feel his eyes on me when I laugh at something Maksim says. When I answer Nikolai's question about distribution networks.
"Your cousin is causing problems," Nikolai says, cutting through the pleasantries.
"Yuri wants what he thinks belongs to him," I reply. "He's wrong."
"He's dangerous," Maksim adds. "Desperate men do stupid things."
"I'm aware." I glance at Sergei. "That's why I'm here."
Maksim grins again. "Smart woman. Our brother has chosen well.”
Chose.
I feel like a prized pony, but I let it go. I understand how this game works.
The dinner continues. More small talk. I realize they're trying to make me comfortable. To show me I'm not just marrying Sergei. I'm joining a family.
It's strange. I haven't had a family in a long time.
By the time dessert arrives, I'm actually relaxed.
Sergei is different with them. He almost smiles when Nikolai makes a dry comment about Vegas tourists. There's an ease between them I've never seen in him before.
He's human, after all.
I've been thinking of him as this cold, calculating machine. But watching him with his brothers, I see something else. Loyalty. Affection. Brotherhood.
It makes me wonder what else I've gotten wrong about him.
Nelson appears at my elbow as we're finishing. "Mrs. Sokolov, the car is ready."
I blink. Mrs. Sokolov. That's me now.
"I need a few minutes with my brothers," Sergei says. "Nelson will take you to the car."
I see the look in Sergei's eyes. This is family business. Bratva business. And apparently, I'm not included in that conversation.
Not yet, anyway.
"Of course." I stand. Both Maksim and Nikolai rise with me.
"It was lovely meeting you, Sofia," Maksim says, that charming grin back in place. "Welcome to the family."
Nikolai just nods. But there's something in his eyes that might be approval.
I follow Nelson through the restaurant. The guards close in around us as we step outside. The SUV is waiting, engine running. Nelson slides into the front passenger seat.
I hate this. Hate being dismissed like a child sent to wait in the car while the adults talk. I'm running my own organization. I should be part of whatever conversation is happening in there.
But I'm not. Because I'm still proving myself. Still earning my place.
I lean my head back against the seat and close my eyes. The image of Sergei laughing with his brothers plays behind my eyelids. That genuine smile. The way his whole face changed.
He'd actually joked. Made a comment that had both brothers laughing.
I didn't know he could do that.
Seven days of living with him and I'm just now seeing he's capable of being something other than the cold, controlled man I’ve seen.
It makes me wonder what else I don't know about my husband.
The car door opens, and Sergei slides in beside me. He's back to his usual stoic self. Whatever moment of levity I witnessed is gone.
"Everything okay?" I ask.
"Fine." He signals the driver to go.
We ride in silence. I stare out the window at the city lights.
"Your brothers are nice," I say.
"They liked you."
I shouldn't care what his brothers think of me. This is a business arrangement. But I do care. I want them to see me as worthy.
I want Sergei to see me as worthy.
The thought catches me off guard. When did I start caring what he thinks?
We pull up to the brownstone. Sergei gets out first and offers me his hand. I take it and allow him to lead me inside.
I should go upstairs to my room.
But I’m not ready to be alone. Not yet.
I want my husband.
He pulls off his tie and walks to the foot of the stairs and pauses. He looks back at me. “Sofia?”
My heart is pounding. My belly feels funny—in a good way. I don’t know how to do this.
What if he rejects me?
"I want to ask you something," I say.
"Alright."
"I need you not to make it complicated."
“What is it Sofia?”
I clasp my hands together. I’m rarely nervous, but I am right now. "The memories I have from that night,” I pause. This is ridiculous. “Never mind.”
He steps toward me. “Tell me, my little buntarka.”
I almost smile. Rebel. Why does that make my ask so much easier?
“The memories still haunt me. The, uh, our wedding night.” I lick my lips and take a deep breath.
"The first time was good. It was better than I thought it could be.
But there's still a lot of old noise and I want—" I meet his eyes.
"I want to make new ones. Louder ones. I want to drown out the bad memories. "
He stares at me. I swallow and wait.
"Come here," he says in that velvety voice that gives me chills.
He's different this time.
The first time he was careful in the way of someone handling something fragile.
I understand his command.
My choice.
I step forward. He extends his hand. I don’t hesitate. I trust him.
I take his hand, and he pulls me close. His other hand cups my face, tilting it up to meet his gaze.
"Are you sure?" he asks.
"Yes."
He leads me upstairs to his bedroom.
I'm nervous. My hands are shaking slightly, but I want this. I’m choosing.
He notices my discomfort.
"We can stop at any point," he reminds me.
"I know." And I do. That's why I'm here. Because I trust him in a way I've never trusted anyone.
He moves toward me slowly, giving me time to change my mind. When he reaches me, his hands go to my waist. Not grabbing. Just resting there.
"Tell me what you want," he says.
I take a breath. "I want you to do…more.”
His eyes darken. "More?"