Bratvas vow, p.38
Bratva's Vow, page 38
I walked over and wrapped my arms around his waist from behind, resting my head against his broad back.
“You can’t blame me this time.” I nuzzled his shoulder. “Jellybean woke me up. You left the door open.”
Maxim sighed. “It’s okay. Probably won’t work to have breakfast in bed anyway. He’d make a mess everywhere.”
“Smells amazing, though.”
“It’s lemon ricotta pancakes. With fresh blueberries. And real maple syrup, not that fake corn syrup stuff you tried to sneak into the cart last week.”
“Busted,” I muttered.
He flipped the last pancake onto the stack, then turned in my arms, brushing my hair back from my face. “Happy birthday, kroshka.”
I leaned into his touch, my voice soft. “Thank you.”
“You’re easy to love when you’re not being a menace,” he teased, but his eyes—those cold, brutal, beautiful eyes—looked at me like I was the best thing he’d ever done with his life.
We ate on the patio overlooking the pool of our new house, sun warming our skin, legs tangled beneath the small table. He fed me bites off his fork when I got too lazy to lift mine. I stole sips from his coffee, even though mine was the same. Jellybean jumped into the pool and ignored us while Maxim grumbled about that damn dog he was going to take to the pound one of these days because he didn’t listen.
“What do you want to do today?” Maxim asked.
I scrunched up my face. “You’re asking me that like you haven’t already decided.”
“Decided what?”
I had to give him credit. He had his poker face on. If I didn’t know him well enough, I would have thought he had no plans for my birthday.
“Very funny. What are we doing for my birthday? I hope you didn’t spend too much on my gift.”
Maxim took a slow sip from his mug, eyes fixed on mine over the rim like he was reading me for tells. “Well,” he said eventually, “I figured I’d save myself the trouble.”
“The trouble?” I echoed.
He shrugged, setting the mug down. “You always say you don’t want anything. Always telling me I spoil you and that being with me is enough. So… no gifts this year.”
My fork paused halfway to my mouth.
“No gift?” I repeated, trying to keep the smile on my face. “Right. Of course. That’s… fine.”
But it wasn’t. Not really.
Because yes, I had always said I didn’t need anything. Had rolled my eyes at designer watches, scoffed at limited-edition sneakers, and told him time and time again that I didn’t want him to spoil me. But the truth was, I’d gotten used to it. Not the money. Not the luxury. Him. His care. His ridiculous, over-the-top, I-will-move-the-sky-for-you kind of love.
And now he was saying he didn’t have a gift?
My stomach dipped in that irrational, childish way. Not because I needed something shiny. Just… the idea that he hadn’t thought about it. That maybe he didn’t feel the need to make a big deal. Although it was my first birthday of us being together.
I must’ve gone too quiet because he was suddenly smiling.
That smug bastard smile.
“You’re disappointed,” he said like he’d caught me red-handed.
“I’m not,” I lied.
“You are.” He leaned back in his chair, looking far too pleased with himself. “It’s written all over your pouty little face. What happened to ‘I don’t need anything, Maxim, your love is enough’?” He mocked my voice, horribly. “‘Material things don’t matter to me, babe.’”
“Oh my god,” I groaned, hiding behind my hands. “I never say babe like that.”
“You say all of it. Multiple times. So I took you at your word.”
I peeked between my fingers. “You really didn’t get me anything?”
A beat of silence.
Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small velvet box, and slid it across the table.
“You’re such an asshole,” I whispered, even as my chest swelled with relief and heat.
“Open it.”
I picked up the box, my fingers tingling with anticipation. It felt fancy. Too fancy for breakfast on the patio, barefoot with syrup on my fingers.
I cracked it open and… stared.
Inside was an anklet. But not the kind you buy at a department store on a whim. No, this was delicate and expensive. White gold maybe or platinum set with tiny diamonds. A fine chain that shimmered in the morning light. And right in the center hung a tiny charm in the shape of a lock, the letter M carved into it in script.
I didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. My throat got all tight and weird, like something had slipped past my defenses without asking for permission.
Maxim watched me like he was cataloging every twitch of my face. “If you tell me it’s too much, I can trade it in for a pair of socks.”
I huffed a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “I love it.”
His grin spread, slow and sinful. “Dainty, isn’t it?”
God. He knew what he was doing to me. I swallowed around the lump in my throat, lifted my leg, and rested my bare foot in his lap. “Put it on for me?”
Maxim took the anklet from the box and fastened it around my ankle with surprising gentleness. “It doesn’t have a tracker in it. Does it?” I asked.
Maxim fell silent. He skimmed his fingers along my skin like I might vanish if he touched me too hard. Once it was on, he thumbed the tiny charm, then leaned down and kissed the inside of my ankle.
“Maxim.”
“Don’t ask if you won’t like the answer, kroshka.”
Was I surprised? No. We had a camera mounted in our bedroom even though I’d promised him months ago that I would never leave him again. But I didn’t mind because it was hot watching Maxim fuck me on video. I watched those videos a little more than I probably should.
“I’m still mad you let me think you didn’t get me anything,” I murmured, unable to look at him without turning into goo.
He looked up, smug as ever. “Thought I’d call your bluff this time.”
“Well, congrats. I panicked.”
He laughed and pressed a kiss to my cheek, then the corner of my mouth. “You’re too easy.”
I looped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer until our foreheads touched. “You love how easy I am. It takes nothing but you walking into a room for me to drop my thong for you.”
“Yes, I love how my slutty husband doesn’t hesitate to get fucked.” He kissed me again, this time slow. Soft. Full of that quiet, terrifying kind of love I was still learning how to hold.
Then he pulled back, eyes glinting. “You still want to know what we’re doing today?”
I narrowed my eyes. “You mean there’s more?”
His smile widened. “Finish your coffee. Then let’s hit the shower so I can stick my tongue inside your sweet ass. After, we’ll go for a drive.”
We drove for a while out of the city. My hand rested on Maxim’s thigh, thumb tracing little circles over his jeans as I tried to figure out where we were going and why we had to leave Jellybean behind.
I started to get a feeling.
That soft, aching one in the pit of your chest when something meaningful is coming, and your body knows before your mind catches up.
This road…
My throat closed up as I realized where we were headed. The quiet gates of the cemetery soon came into view, weathered but sturdy, flanked by tall hedges and draped in early-spring sunlight. My chest tightened instantly.
I turned to Maxim, who was watching me. Waiting.
“This is…” My voice cracked.
Sergei parked the car, but neither Maxim nor I moved. This was the last place I’d expected him to bring me for my birthday. Too many memories.
“We don’t have to stay long.” Maxim reached over and gently laced our fingers. “I just thought after waiting for years, it’d be nice to spend some time on your birthday with your father.”
I swallowed hard, the tightness in my throat almost unbearable. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I had to blink them away rapidly.
“Shit, maybe this was a bad idea. We can leave. I didn’t mean to—”
I threw my arms around Maxim’s neck. He caught me, pulling me closer and burying his face in my hair. His hands curled tight around my spine like he’d needed the hug too.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “You didn’t have to bring me, but I’m so glad you did. This is the best birthday gift.”
“Let’s go.”
When we stepped out, the breeze was soft and warm, rustling the grass. The scent of wildflowers and morning sun hung in the air. I would have thought that coming back here, my heart would be heavy with grief. Instead, a sense of peace washed over me.
Side by side, we walked through the neat rows of headstones. Maxim’s hand stayed in mine the whole way, his thumb stroking slow arcs against my skin.
We reached the gravesite.
My mom’s name, etched into smooth granite. Familiar. Comforting in its own quiet way.
And beside hers, the smaller stone. My dad’s urn had been buried there two months ago, after I was discharged from the hospital. Maxim and I had chosen the words on the plaque together. Still, seeing it again today, hit differently.
Maxim didn’t speak but let me stand there with it.
“Hey, Mom… Dad, I’m back,” I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath in the wind. I didn’t believe they could hear me, but it was comforting to let out what was inside my heart. “You have no idea how much I miss you. At least you have each other now, and I’m not alone.” I smiled at Maxim, squeezing his hand. “I’m really happy. The happiest I’ve ever been. I know I may not be what you wanted me to be, but I hope you’ll still be proud of me.”
Tears filled my eyes again, but they were bittersweet ones. Happiness mingled with sorrow in the most intense way. Sometimes it was hard to appreciate the magnitude of my current happiness without mourning what I'd lost, but it was becoming easier, especially with the closure I had.
Maxim stepped closer to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as if trying to shield me from the past heartaches that seemed to hang heavier in the cemetery air. I turned to him, stood on the tip of my toes, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I didn’t realize I needed this.”
He squeezed my waist. “As long as I’m able, I’ll bring you every birthday, if you want.”
I nodded. I wanted that very much. More than an expensive bracelet or a fancy sports car.
We stood there for a long while, not speaking. The wind moved softly around us, the leaves rustling like whispers.
I didn’t feel heavy. I didn’t feel hollow.
For the first time, this day didn’t feel like a scar.
It felt like a promise.
A vow.
Not the kind spoken once and forgotten. But the kind you live out in pancakes and anklets with trackers in them and long drives to say hello to ghosts.
Thanks for reading Bratva’s Vow. I’d appreciate if you would leave a review here. Don’t forget to check out the next book in the series here.
AFTERWORD
Dear Reader,
You’ve made it to the end of Maxim’s and Wren’s book, and what a ride. I loved writing every step of their journey. Loved every bit of Maxim’s devotion to Wren and how he never shied away from telling Wren just how much he meant to him. Even when his methods were unconventional, there was never any doubt how he felt about his kroshka.
I hope you’ve enjoyed the end of their story. Book three, Bratva’s Mercy will introduce a brand new couple but will continue to address threats to their Bratva brotherhood.
To my Patreon community, thank you. Your support meant everything during this process.
To my beta readers—Cindy, Jeannine, Brittany, and Aliyah—your insight helped shape this story into what it is.
And to my incredible final proofreaders—Lori, Dywanda, and Malissa, thank you for catching the little things that matter a lot.
Hope you are excited for the rest of the books in the series.
Love,
Gianni
ALSO BY GIANNI HOLMES
The Smoky Vale Alliance
Bay
Gunner
Bloom Part 1
Bloom Part 2
The Grimm Tales of Smoky Vale
Biker Daddy
Fable's Foes
The Mortician
Miles High
Crowe's Creed
Daddy’s Little Deviants (dark daddy kink romance)
Daddy's Stepstalker
Daddy's Adorable Assassin
A Hitman’s Bait
Lure
Hook
Tackle
Daddies' Broken Boys
Dirty Deed
Standalone
Tyrant
Be Mine, Twisted Valentine
Class Act
Ginger Kisses
Grudge
Love in Slow M'Ocean
Dear Daddy, Please Love Me
The Love Permit Series
Let Me Love You
Let Me Hate You
Let Me Remind You
Taking Care Series (Daddy Kink)
Take Care of You
Take Care of Me
Take Care of Us
Secrets & Scandal
Secrets
Scandal
The Simple Rules
To Not Fall for My Doc
To Not Date My Best Friend
To Not Marry My Enemy
The Runway Project series (May/December)
Unwrapping Ainsley
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Gianni Holmes is a romance author who never outgrew her childhood love of stories. She just started writing her own. She penned her first romance novel in seventh grade and never looked back. In high school, she was that girl: ripping pages out of her English exercise books to write her latest love story.
Today, Gianni writes swoony, steamy romance across multiple pen names. As Sage Abbott, she dives into heartwarming tales with a bit of the forbidden, and as Sohanna Gray, she leans into MF interracial romance.
She’s best known for her fan-favorite series The Grimm Tales of Smoky Vale and The Taking Care series—two very different worlds, both full of complicated men, emotional moments, and unforgettable love stories.
When she’s not writing, Gianni is a French and Spanish teacher with a background in Hispanic literature. You can keep in touch with her in the following places:
Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/authorgianniholmes
Website: https://www.gianniholmesauthor.com
Gianni Holmes, Bratva's Vow
