And right now, that instinct is telling me that someone hurt my wife.
Was it her friend? Did she say something over lunch? Jemma—that’s her name. I know Sima trusts her. Too much, maybe. If she figured out the truth and told Sima she’s in over her head, that she ought to cut her losses and run, then that would explain her gloomy mood.
Or maybe this isn’t about Jemma at all. Maybe Sima’s pulling back all on her own. Because she can’t forget who I am,whatI am. All that I’ve done and all that I’ll keep doing.
A war with her family isn’t some distant possibility anymore.It’s a storm already brewing, and Sima is smart enough to hear the thunder before anyone else.
Suddenly, my phone buzzes against the nightstand. The screen lights up: Uncle Ivan. I grit my teeth, careful not to wake Sima as I slide my arm out from under her and sit up.
I answer quietly, “What is it?”
Ivan’s gravelly tone comes through the line. “I’ve set up a meeting with Boris. Tomorrow night. He’s desperate for support.”
I drag a hand down my face. “Tomorrow night.” I glance at Sima’s sleeping form, the way her hair spills across the pillow like a dark halo. “Alright. I don’t want delays, Ivan. We handle it and we’re done.”
“Boris is losing men,” Ivan reminds me. “The Danilos are picking them off. If we don’t intervene, he’ll fold. And that hurts all of us. He’s already afraid he’s lost control of his streets.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. My leg won’t stop bouncing against the floor. “I know. But Sima—” I stop myself, jaw locking. He doesn’t need to hear this part. My concerns about her don’t belong in this conversation, even if they’re clawing me open inside.
Ivan waits a beat, like he can hear the hesitation I’m choking back. “You’ll be there?”
I exhale. “I’ll be there. Tell Lev and Mikhael to clear their schedules. I want them with me.”
“Understood.” Ivan’s voice is clipped, efficient, already moving on. “We’ll meet at the warehouse. I’ll send the details.”
“Fine.” I hang up before he can say anything else, before he can hear the edge in my voice that betrays too much.
I stare at the phone in my hand for a long moment, then set it back down like it’s heavier than it was a minute ago. My fists clench against my thighs. I don’t want to leave her. But I don’t have the luxury of choosing.
Driving the Danilos out of my territory is the only way to secure her safety. And if it means tearing them apart with my own hands, I’ll do it gladly.
If her family knew I had her—that she’s mine now—they’d try to take her. The very thought makes my blood run hot, fury simmering low and steady.
No one takes what’s mine.
Not her family.
Not anyone.
47
SIMA
I wake up feeling like I’ve been run over by a truck.
My head is heavy, my stomach unsettled, and every bone in my body feels like it’s been stuffed with sand. Normally, I’d hear Petyr moving around, the sound of his shoes on the floor, the bathroom faucet running. Or if none of that, I’d at least stir when he kissed me goodbye.
But not today. He’s already gone, and that alone tells me just how off I must be.
I peel myself out of the sheets and drag my body into the bathroom. The mirror greets me with a pale face, messy hair, and eyes that look like they haven’t slept in days. Attractive. Just what every mafia husband dreams of coming home to.
I turn the shower on and step under the hot spray, hoping it’ll wash the sluggishness away. The heat loosens the knot in my shoulders, but it doesn’t do a damn thing for the ache in my chest or the roil in my stomach.
I lean into the spray longer than usual, almost begging the water to wake me up. As I lather shampoo into my hair, I realize something else.
My breasts are sore.
Odd.It’s not the usual, mild kind of soreness that comes with my period. This is different, sharper, almost like bruises blooming under the skin. I wince as the water pelts down against me, rubbing the ache with the back of my hand.
