Til Death Do Us Part (Kornilov Bratva Duet #2) - Nicole Fox Page 0,19
going to have to set aside time to study if I want to stay on top of it.
Though, what is the point of it all now?
I’ve done my best not to think much about my future. If I think about things one day at a time, it keeps me from feeling an overwhelming sense of existential dread. However, the sudden realization that this might never end washes over me.
Getting out of this kind of lifestyle is hard. I know better than anyone that even the smallest amount of contact with the people in it can yank you in, too. So, what if I can’t leave? What if, even after the threat of Fedor has subsided, I can’t get away? The Bratva wives will find it strange if I want to get my degree or do an internship. I certainly wouldn’t need the money.
I try to push the thoughts from my head, instead focusing on the hope that it will all work out, but they crowd into my brain until I can’t think about anything else.
Just as I slam my textbook closed, there is a knock at the door.
Since the wedding, I don’t have to answer my own door, but I still get up out of habit. I’m halfway across the living room when the guard comes inside to tell me there is a woman at the door for me. I assume it is one of the Bratva wives who forgot something, so I don’t ask who it is and tell him to let her in. A minute later, the guard ushers in a woman I barely recognize. A woman I haven’t seen face-to-face in years.
“Hannah?” I ask, mouth hanging open.
Hannah rushes across the room and wraps me in a hug, and it is all I can do to force my arms to encircle her.
I told Hannah I’d ask Viktor about sending her some cash, but things have been so crazy that I forgot. About the money and Hannah, if I’m being honest.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, holding her back by the shoulders. “How are you here? What—?”
“All good questions,” Hannah says, tucking a greasy strand of hair behind her ear and turning in a circle to take in the apartment. Her sneakers are filthy, her jeans have worn holes in the knees, and she is wearing two oversized jackets instead of a coat. When she finishes her circle, her eyes are wide. “But my question is: what do I need to do to get a place like this?”
I ignore the question and grab Hannah’s arm, dragging her towards the couch. “Sit down and tell me how you are here.”
She runs her hand over the couch cushion, admiring the fabric, and then sighs. “I lost my apartment.”
I slide my touch from her elbow to her hand and squeeze. “Shit.”
“Yeah, shit,” she agrees. “I couldn’t have my son with me since I didn’t have a place to stay, and I couldn’t get a job to get a new place. I was in a shit-filled rut, and I thought a small trip would help me get out of it.”
“A trip?” I ask, trying to follow her thinking. “Like, a vacation? How is that going to help? What are you going to do?”
Hannah looks up at me, her eyebrows raised and expectant. “I kind of hoped you would be able to help.” As if to drive the point home, she looks around the apartment again. When she turns and sees my balcony and the view of the city, she sighs. “Wow.”
Guilt coils in my stomach. “I’m sorry. I told you I’d talk to Viktor, but I just got … distracted.”
“It’s okay,” Hannah says, folding her hands in her lap. “I hate asking for handouts anyway. You know I wouldn’t if I wasn’t in trouble.”
“I know. You helped me when I had no one else, so I owe you.”
She gives me a nervous smile, her eyes going glassy, and then she blinks away the emotion and leans back in the cushions. “How is your sugar daddy, anyway?”
I quickly battle with myself, trying to decide how much I can/should tell Hannah about my situation here, before I decide I’m keeping track of too many lies as is. I might as well be consistent.
“He is my husband now.”
Hannah’s mouth falls open, and I’m tempted to reach out and close it for her. “Shut up.”
I nod. “A week ago. It was a small ceremony.”
The baby is my secret. Mine and Viktor’s. It’s too soon to be