Chapter 20 #2
“I started an account,” I admit. “But I didn’t let anyone know who I was. I was masked the whole time since that’s what everyone likes right now anyway.”
“Not everyone,” Semyon mutters. “Do go on. I can’t wait for the rest of this.”
Rafail growls but doesn’t say a word.
I swallow hard. “No one had any idea it was me.”
“Which fucking account?” Semyon asks, his voice dangerous. “Show me.”
God. Shit. I am in so much trouble. Still, I pull up the account and show them.
“Motherfucker,” Rafail mutters under his breath. “What the hell were you thinking? Were you that hard up for attention?” He looks like he wants to throttle me, and honestly, right now, I wouldn’t blame him.
“Wow,” Semyon mutters, peering at my phone. “750,000 followers already? And you barely started? That’s impressive, brother.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Rafail looks like he wants to single-handedly beat the shit out of both of us. Wouldn’t be the first time.
“It takes a lot to get this many—”
“I don’t give a fuck how popular he is!” Rafail thunders. “The more popular he is, the more fucking vulnerable we all are! This is the stupidest shit I’ve ever seen.” He turns to me. “Go on. Get to Ember. Let me guess. She’s one of your stupid followers.”
I don’t even realize I’m on my feet going after him until Semyon and Matvei both pull me back.
“Sit down, brother,” Semyon warns. I look away. Rafail is the oldest, but Semyon’s older than I am, too, and no slouch. I have to get my shit together.
I glare at Rafail. “We need to have this conversation. I need to make it fucking right. But you need to show that woman respect just like you would Polina.”
Rafail’s brows rise. “You want to compare Ember to Polina?”
I’m seething and doing everything I can not to say something I can’t take back. “You have no fucking idea who she is to me.”
I hate that they know her name, but it was inevitable. I can’t have her in my life and have her be anonymous. My family and I are one. It’s the law of the Bratva, steadfast and dependable, and even I won’t challenge something as unmoving as family loyalty. Hell, it’s carved into me.
I hate that she’s in another room, apart from me, but I’m relieved she’s with Zoya and Yana.
Rafail simmers but finally nods. “Go on but watch your fucking mouth. I’m giving you a lot of grace, Rodion, only because you did every damn job I gave you with perfection and only because I know you’ll be the one digging yourself out of this. Make it fast. My patience is wearing thin.”
You don’t say.
“Okay, so… I kind of got a crush on her.” Understatement of the year, but I’m not clarifying. I’m deeply, madly, head-over-heels in love with the woman.
“Like fuck you did,” Semyon says, shaking his head. I go on and pretend he doesn’t exist.
“We, uh… so we started messaging each other.” I look away. I hate sharing this with them. It feels special and sacred, and I don’t want to desecrate what’s ours. I have no choice.
“I tried to stay away, I was going to delete my account, but I couldn’t.
It’s the first time since I fucked shit up that I felt…
like something was going right. I thought the videos were ridiculous, and then…
I saw Ember. And everything changed.” My voice trails off and I shake my head.
I release a shuddering breath. “So we started… flirt-texting. And then I met her, and I… I can’t help it.
I maybe stalked her. She’s got this fucking stepbrother, man, and I—”
“Rodion.” Rafail’s gaze hasn’t softened a lick. “Even for you, this is fucking dumb as shit. But now we need to fix this with your little date.”
“She’s not a little fucking date,” I snap, my voice rising. I clench my fists and glare at him.
You do not talk to Rafail Kopolov like that. Never in my life have I raised my voice to him. Never. Not even when I was a kid. I always respected him, feared him—but I can’t stand for it now, not when Ember’s on the line.
“Rodion,” Semyon groans.
Rafail is on his feet as he shrugs out of his suit coat. Fuck.
“You want to repeat that?” When Rafail goes quiet, shit’s about to go down.
He might be my brother, but he’s also fucking pakhan of the Kopolov family. I’ve pushed too hard.
I stare him in the eye. I don’t care what they do to me. I’m a member of this family, and I won’t let them fuck with Ember.
“She’s not a fucking date, Rafail. This isn’t a teenage crush.” I have to tell them the truth. I have to bare my neck and admit to them what I haven’t even admitted to myself yet. “I love her. She’s my one.” My voice breaks. “I’d do anything for her.”
Rafail studies me. Silent. For once, his gaze actually softens.
“He doesn’t understand,” Semyon says quietly. I look from one to the other.
Matvei only shakes his head. “We haven’t shown him everything yet.”
I swallow, ice pricking my spine as Rafail opens his phone.
“See this?” he says in a voice I know all too well, the same voice he used when I was in the principal’s office about to be expelled, or when I took his car and totaled it, or when I fell off the roof of the garage and broke my leg. The calm before the storm.
“The location of our enemies. This is the man you killed last week, yeah? You made an example of him. Well, there’s fallout, Rodion. They didn’t know who was behind it. Now that they’ve traced Ember’s account to LA, with the Kopolov name on that plane, they know you were there.”
Fuck.
I thought I was so careful. I knew I was playing with fire.
If they brought me in here to get rid of her, if they fucking hurt one hair on her head—
“What are you planning to do to her?”
I’m on my feet, but Semyon steps in front of me, his voice low and cold.
“Sit the fuck down, Rodion.”
He pulls up a tablet and shows me footage of Ember drinking tea with my sisters. “She’s fine.”
I sit back down, but I don’t relax.
“If you guys hurt her—”
“We’re not going to fucking hurt her,” Rafail says. “Not if you do what we say. What have I told you every goddamn night you were in California? What did I tell you I needed you to get?”
I stare.
“A wife.”
A wife?
“Yeah, I said you need a wife,” Rafail repeats. “After the shit Semyon put up with.” He shakes his head. Arranged marriage to men like us is more complicated than it seems. Our reputations precede us.