What if he told her how he felt? What if he shared his fears and his past and let her make her decisions from there?

You are worth another’s love and trust as well, brother. Don’t let your parents’ past rob you of it.

Sergei was right. Leveling with her was a risk—one he wished his father had taken with his mother and saved them all heartache. But if he didn’t come clean, how was he any better? How could he possibly hope for a different outcome?

He faced her.

Whatever she’d been thinking before, the expression on his face wiped the consternation and frustration from hers in a second. “What’s wrong?”

He nodded to the sofa. “Sit. Please.”

For a moment, her gaze shuttled between him and the door—not so much as if she sought to escape, but more that she seemed to consider calling for backup. Instead, she padded to the sofa, perched on the edge and gripped her hands in her lap, her concerned gaze locked on him.

For the life of him, he had no clue how to start. How to put into words all the wrongs and distrust that had formed his life. “My father was bratva. His father was bratva.”

Comprehension settled behind her beautiful eyes and her expression softened. “If you’re going to tell me about your family, could you do it a little closer?”

He studied the distance between them, finding the courage to close the gap more difficult than any steps he’d taken to date in his life. Sharing his past was hard enough. Being close enough to feel her pity wasn’t something he was confident he could stomach.

He forced one foot in front of the other and sat beside her, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped in front of him. “I’ve told you that Sergei’s family is different than most. He is ruthless in business, yes, and does not limit his investments or activities to what the government says he can or cannot do, but he does not extort from those who have not chosen his way. He does not blackmail innocents. And he protects his investments and those he considers his with formidable strength. There is no action he will not take if it means keeping those within his world safe.”

He pulled in a slow stabilizing breath and turned his head to meet her gaze. “But the family I was born into was different. More in line with Alfonsi’s actions and what you see in movies. Perhaps worse.”

She waited. No signs of revulsion or terror showed on her face. Just patience and openness.

He sat up and allowed himself to sink into the thick cushions behind him. “My father and mother met and married quickly. He loved her deeply. Adored her. But he never shared with her about the life he’d chosen.”

“Why not?”

An ironic huff pushed from his chest. “Because to share what happened within the brotherhood wasn’t done. Many men would not take brides to avoid the conflict.” The memories of his youth rushed up to greet him. The idyllic life he’d thought he’d had until reality came crashing down around him. “He kept her in the dark on everything. Even made up false details about what he did for a living. Came home every night for dinner with a briefcase in hand and talked about business affairs that had nothing to do with how he’d spent his day.”