She laughs. The sound filling the car and my whole entire heart. Fuck me. My girl. Then she leans in and kisses me.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“Anything for you, baby.”
Then she climbs out, waves, and disappears inside the building. And every fucking instinct in me screams to follow her, stay, make sure she’s safe. But I force myself to drive away. Because if this insane thing between us is going to work, I need to let her live. Be. Not just hold her in a golden cage, fucking wrapped up in bubbles like I really want.
* * *
The day drags. I handle business. Make calls. Meet with my men. Deal with shipments and territory disputes and all the usual Bratva shit. But my mind keeps drifting to my wife. Is she okay? Is anyone bothering her? Is she SAFE?
When I check my phone, there are no calls from Nadia. No texts. That means she’s fine. God, let it mean my woman is fine. I have some men patrolling around the clinic, but you never know.
Around three o’clock, Alexei, my second-in-command, walks into my office.
“Boss, we got some intel.”
I look up. “What is it?”
“The Sokolovs are planning something.”
My eyes go ice cold. “What kind of something?”
“Don’t know yet, but they’ve been moving people and ammo around. Looks like they’re getting ready for a hit.”
Fuck.
“On who?”
“We don’t know. Could be us, could be another family.”
I stand. “Find out.”
He nods and leaves.
I stare at my phone, debating calling Nadia. But I don’t want to scare her.
And it’s probably nothing. Hopefully.
* * *
At five on the dot, I pull up to the clinic. Nadia comes out a few minutes later, smiling. She looks tired but happy, and just as hot.
She climbs into the car, leaning over to kiss me.
“Hey.”
“Hey, baby. How was work?”
“Good. Busy, but good.” She buckles her seatbelt. “One of my patients asked if I met someone because I kept smiling.”
I chuckle. “And what did you say?”
“I said yes.” She glances at me. “It felt weird. But also… not.”
“You did meet someone. Even married him.”
I wink, and she laughs.
