I pull something out of my pocket: a ribbon, long and sleek, the same color as my tie. A little souvenir I’ve kept with me since then. If I hold it close, I can still smell her perfume.
I shake my head and huff. Is this what Grisha was warning me about? Pre-wedding jitters?
Nonsense. I’m Matvey Groza. The head of the most powerful Bratva in New York City. I don’t get nervous.
Especially when it comes to politics. And make no mistake, that’s all this is.
A knock sounds on the door. I turn my head and call, “Come in.”
A whistle follows in lieu of a greeting. “Wow. Look at that. Trying to upstage the bride?”
I roll my eyes at her. “If you were afraid of that, you should’ve picked a better tailor. I can introduce you, if you’d like.” It’s my best attempt at a joke, even though the mere t
