“We’ve entered negotiations,” I tell her. “You made a demand; now, I’m countering. Do you want to hear it or not?”
“By all means. But know that you only have…” She looks at her watch. “One minute.”
Sixty seconds to negotiate the rest of my life. No pressure.
“If you’re going to marry me, you will play the role of the traditional Bratva wife.”
“You are to be seen, not heard.” Though I wouldn’t mind if she wasn’t seen, either. “You have no power over any part of the Bratva—that remains fully in my control—and we live in separate wings of the house.”
She frowns. “Were you and Cora living in separate wings?”
In my head, I add, She was more than that.
What I had with Cora is more than anything I’ll ever have with Francia. The fact Francia thinks I’ll ever treat her the way I treated Cora
