Page 56 of The Bratva Sinner

I’m not risking a black eye.

I leave, closing the door behind me and walking to my room. I’m exhausted. My jaw aches.

I look at the ring on my finger.

What have I done?

15

Lila

I float on my back in the pool, staring up at the Miami sky. The water laps gently around me, warm and perfect. I’ve been out here for more than an hour, existing in the quiet.

I’ve been married for two weeks, and I don’t hate it. I’m protected, fed, and safe, just like Maksim promised. I have access to horses and a pool and more food than I know what to do with.

There are worse ways to live.

I haven’t seen much of Maksim. He leaves early and comes home late. Sometimes, I hear him late at night. Once, I caught him watching me from the house while I was with the horses. When our eyes met, he turned and walked away.

It’s fine. This is what I wanted. A marriage in name only.

So why does it bother me?

I flip over, swim to the edge, and pull myself out. Water streams off me as I reach for my towel. That’s when I notice her.

A woman sits in one of the lounge chairs, wearing a white bikini that shows off her perfect body. Her dark hair is pulled into a messy bun with the kind of beauty that makes me intimately aware of my every flaw.

She’s one of Maksim’s women. I’ve met a few, but they keep their distance from me. I know they don’t like me. They blame me for Mara, and I understand. I blame myself, too.

I wrap the towel around myself, suddenly self-conscious. Her breasts are full, and mine are… not. She’s curvy and gorgeous. She’s watching me, probably wondering why her boss chose me and not one of his many beauties. Older women with plenty of knowledge about how to please a man as opposed to a nineteen year old virgin.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.” I sit on my chair, keeping a distance between us.

“I’m Ava.”

“Lila.”

“I know who you are.” She smiles. “Everyone knows who you are. You’re the wife.”

The way she says it makes it sound like a title.The Wife.Like I’m a character in a story instead of a real person. It’s a stark reminder that I’m a commodity, not an actual woman.

“I guess I am.”

Ava tilts her head and studies me. “You’re not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“Someone more...” She gestures vaguely. “Polished. The kind of woman Maksim usually has around.”

I bristle. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“I didn’t say I was disappointed.” She leans back in her chair. “Just surprised. You’re different. I guess that’s why he likes you.”

I don’t know how to respond, so I say nothing. I pick up the bottle of water I brought with me and take a long drink.

“Can I ask you something?” Ava says. It’s not really a question.