Sinful Bride (Belaya Bratva 3)

Chapter 29

Gavril

Two Months Later

St. Petersburg, Russia

I held onto Naomi’s hand tightly as we followed the dirt path through the headstones, the blustery wind tearing at our winter coats. It was brutally cold, snow threatening in the air, but Naomi had refused to put this off just because of the weather. “We have to do it today,” she’d demanded this morning when I had tried to coax her back to bed. “You have put it off long enough, Gavril.”

She was right. I had put it off for years, and since Naomi had her closure with Jon Hampton, it was time for me to have mine so we could move forward.

I hadn’t told Naomi about my dream that night, how I had carried on a conversation with my former love. I didn’t know why. I knew she would believe me, but there was something that made me want to keep it close to myself for now. Maybe one day I would tell her.

Right now, though, I was going to have my closure another way with Katya.

Finally, we reached the hill where my mother had told me she had been buried, finding an unassuming headstone choked with weeds. When I had asked about Katya’s burial, it had been my mother that had told me about the funeral and the burial spot. “Of course I went,” she told me. “I wanted to make sure that the bitch that threatened your life was put into the ground. I was one of the few that were there.”

I was glad I hadn’t gone myself. At that time, I had been too numb from the betrayal, dousing my grief with vodka and women to forget what Katya had done to me and my fucking heart. Hell, at the time, I had wanted her to rot in hell for what she had done.

Now, I didn’t feel the same way. Her words to me that day had shown a different side to what she had been up against, and perhaps her feelings hadn’t all been a ruse to begin with.

Naomi was the one who knelt down first, brushing away the weeds from the headstone with her gloved hand. “Did she have any family?”

I joined her, using my strength to tackle the deeper ones. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“It’s sad, you know,” my wife continued, tracing Katya’s name with her fingers. “When you die and no one mourns your death.”

“I mourned her,” I admitted, brushing the remaining dirt from the headstone. “I loved her. Hell, I killed her, Naomi. Katya was mourned.”

Naomi looked over at me, her expression soft. “Of course you did, Gavril. Maybe we can have someone bring flowers every once in a while or plant a bush in her honor.”

My wife’s sheer forgiveness astounded me. She was the light to my darkness, the one who looked at the situation with a different eye than I could ever see.

The last two months had been filled with rebuilding my Bratva, but not once had Naomi complained about my long hours or sudden need to leave the mansion.

The mansion, too, was getting an overhaul. I had offered to buy her another home that didn’t hold the memories of that horrible night, but Naomi had decided just to remodel, moving into my suite instead of remaining in hers. In fact, the nursery should have been completed by the time we got home, and I was looking forward to seeing the space differently.

Not once, though, had I spent a night away from her. It was a promise I had made to myself that no matter how much shit I found myself in, I wasn’t going to go a day without seeing her. While Naomi hadn’t asked for it, I was trying to find a balance between my family and my Bratva. I didn’t want to be my father, who had spent his life trying to build the family name only to miss out on his own children in the end.

I didn’t want to be my mother, who had tried her damndest to ensure that we were taken care of and that the Bratva remained intact but never thought about the nights we spent alone. I wasn’t blaming her, not by a long shot, but I was going to be different.

I was going to be there. “I will see to it,” I finally told her, realizing I had gotten lost in my thoughts.

Naomi gave me a soft smile and turned her attention back to the headstone, leaning forward to place her lips on the cold granite. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For allowing me to be the one who will take care of him for the future. He will be loved, Katya. There is no doubt.”

Emotion clogged my throat as I tried to rationalize the love she had for me. I had been an asshole to Naomi, kidnapping her and forcing her into marriage. She had seen my bad side, the side that had all but abused her mind, yet somehow she found love in whatever I had done to her.

She loved me, Gavril Kirilenko, and she told me often enough. No longer was I afraid of my feelings for her. With each passing day I found myself wanting more from her, wanting to know everything about her until there was nothing left. I showered her with gifts, escorted her to the doctor so that we could see our child, and watched over her when Ilsa came to visit until they chased me out of the room.

I was the source of her strength, but she was mine as well. Without her in my life, I wasn’t even a tenth of the man that she had forced me to be.

“What?”

I shook my head and kissed the headstone as well. “Rest easy,” I whispered, hoping that Katya had found her peace. “Thank you.” Because of her, I had the woman next to me, and that was something I couldn’t thank her for enough.

I helped Naomi rise to her feet and we made the long trek back to the waiting car, the warm interior thawing our bones. “Gosh, it’s cold,” she remarked, stripping off her gloves. “I’m so glad you don’t want to live here permanently.”

“I’m happy where we are,” I told her, tapping my fingers on my knee as the car took us back to the mansion. Hell, I was happy wherever she was.