A Treacherous Killer-Dark Bratva Romance

twenty two

Nadia

Emil is ever the gentleman I would expect from someone of my parents liking. He opens the door for me and helps me out of the car before offering me his arm and leading me to the glass doors of Tolsovo's.

Tolsovo's is exactly what I pictured in my mind. It's an ornate building with low lighting and lush interior. The waiters rush around in suede jackets and bright smiles. Emil tells the host that we have reservations for Zolotov and we're lead to a darkened corner near the back of the restaurant.

Emil orders a bottle of champagne for the table and I don't hesitate to take a sip as soon as the waiter pours it.

I was admittedly nervous and I had no reason to be. Emil was charming and endearing, engaging me in polite conversation on the drive here. Even with Emil's lighthearted conversational skills, I still couldn't shake my persistent nerves.

"Your father informed me that he and your mother are in London for the week," Emil's says, taking a sip of his champagne.

"You talked to my father?" I question.

"I asked him for permission to take you out," Emil says with a smirk. "I am a gentleman after all."

So my parents did know that I was out with Emil. Wonderful. I had hoped to keep this date between the two of us. My parents will only see this as me agreeing to their plot to marry me off. Nothing has changed for me, I am not walking down any aisles unless I'm wearing a bridesmaids dress.

"He didn't mention you staying with the Morozov's," he comments.

"I'm not staying there long. Maeve is expecting and I'm just helping her out a little." Emil must buy my story because he doesn't comment any further on my odd living arrangements.

"Your father can be quite intimidating," Emil says, huffing out a laugh. I can't imagine what my father would have said to warrant a comment like that from him.

"Did he say something to you?" I question nervously.

"No, it's just he and your mother seem very attentive of you." I shake my head slightly, huffing out a breath.

"You have no idea," I mumble under my breath.

"You're lucky," he says, his eyes darkening a fraction."To have parents that care for you." The way he says it makes me think he's almost jealous of my overbearing parents.

"I suppose so." I shrug. "I just worry that their attentiveness is not for my well being rather than their own." I shake my head, not wishing to discuss my parents and our strained relationship any longer.

"What about your parents? Do they tend to smother you as well?" I ask. I watch as Emil's shoulders tense and the light that shone in his eyes moments before distinguishes.

"They're both dead," he says solemnly, his dark eyes never leaving mine.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know," I stammer.

"You wouldn't. I don't ever talk about them." His gaze shifts down to the table, a faraway look in his eyes.

The waiter comes by the table and takes our orders, thankfully breaking apart the tense moment Emil and I were encased in.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat as the waiter leaves, but Emil relaxes back in his chair and swirls his champagne flute around. He seems a little more like himself, that darkness in his eyes lightening a fraction.

I glance around to see if I recognize any of Caine's men among the restaurant goers but everyone seemed to be enjoying dinner with a partner. Unless one of the men decided to bring their spouse along on Bratva business, the guy was well hidden.