Heat curls low in my chest, ugly and familiar. Possessive anger. The wedding was supposed to shield Sasha, not paint a target on her back. Not make her a pawn in someone else’s vengeance.
I steady my breath and drag my gaze to Mikhail.
“Pull everything we have on Viktor Markovic,” I say. “And I want Sasha’s mother’s file reopened. Any old ties, debts, oragreements between the Greeks and the Bratva—I want them all on my desk before noon.”
Mikhail nods, already reaching for his tablet. The tension in the room tightens, the silence growing heavy enough to press against the walls.
Roman leans back in his chair, legs still up on the table, but there’s nothing lazy about his posture now. “If you want, I can act as your liaison with the Greek contacts,” he says. “I can move through Europe without raising suspicion. They won’t link me to this family—not directly.”
I study him for a long moment. Roman doesn’t offer things lightly. He’s still half in that soldier’s mindset—careful, deliberate, loyal to a fault.
Finally, I nod. “Do it.”
He gives a short nod in return, his expression unreadable.
“Thank you,” I add.
Roman flashes me a rare grin and rises fluidly to his feet. “My job here is done, then.”
I roll my eyes. “The reception is today. You’re not going anywhere.”
He starts to argue, but I turn my back to him, facing Mikhail instead.
“I need all these files quickly. We already have too many unknowns, and I’m not waiting for another surprise.”
Roman mumbles something under his breath and walks out of the study just as Mikhail starts typing furiously on his laptop. I stand there for a moment, debating whether to call Niko or Kaz, to bring them in on this. But then I decide against it. Sasha is my woman. I can protect her without help.
A sudden, restless need hits me—sharp and urgent—to see her, to hold her, to make sure she’s safe. I leave the office, striding down the hall with purpose.
When I reach our suite, she’s already awake, standing by the vanity as she brushes her hair. The morning light spills over her soft skin.
“Do you remember we have a wedding reception today?” I ask, leaning against the doorway, my gaze drinking her in.
She glances at me through the mirror, rolling her eyes. “How could I forget my own wedding?”
My own wedding.
The way she says it—soft, almost sensual to my ears—stirs something deep in me. Pride. Possession. Something I shouldn’t feel so strongly, but do. I hide it behind a small smile as I walk toward her and slide my arms around her from behind.
Her reflection meets mine in the mirror, her expression unreadable, but she doesn’t pull away. I lower my head, my lips brushing against her temple.
“Stay close to me this evening,” I murmur.
She nods. “All right.”
I’m not sure why I need to hear it, but I do. My gut won’t settle. Something about today feels off—like the calm before a storm I can’t yet see.
“No wandering off, no disappearing.”
She huffs a quiet laugh. “I wasn’t planning to.”
“Promise me, Sasha.” My voice drops lower, more serious now. “No matter what happens tonight, you stay where I can see you.”
Her amusement fades. She studies my reflection for a moment, then nods slowly. “I promise.”
I press another kiss to her temple, but the tension in my chest doesn’t ease. Something tells me I’ll need that promise before the night is over.
Chapter 15 – Sasha
