A Taste of the Bratva King
She's learned to read my moods without starting fights— makes her the perfect wife for a man like me.
"Sergei," she says quietly, "you don't have to pretend enthusiasm you don't feel. I know this isn't exactly your idea of fun."
The honesty hits like cold water. We've never talked about it directly— the family conversations, the mutual benefits, the practical arrangement dressed up as romance. But Masha's not stupid. She knows what this is. A marriage of convenience. A contract designed to give me respectability. And an heir.
"The baby will be loved," I say. Truth. I might not have chosen this path, but I won't punish a kid for adult decisions.
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