“Wren?” I ask, making her look up from the phone where she’s lying on her stomach on the bed.
“Yeah?”
“Do you know Ivan’s last name?”
Everyone’s eyes move to me, and one by one, they start to clue in to my line of questioning. Maybe we’d get lucky, and the most prominent mobster in the world wasn’t trying to get his filthy hands on our girl.
She frowns as her eyes dart to the side in thought. “I think it was Sokolov? Something like that.”
“Fucking shit,” Pete hisses at the same time a loud bang echoes throughout the room.
We all turn to see Jagger shaking out his fist, chunks of drywall crumbling to the ground where he just punched a hole in the wall.
“Do you know him?” Wren asks, sitting up as she glances around at all of us.
“Not personally. But he’s the head of the Russian mob.”
Her eyebrows disappear behind her bangs as her jaw drops open. “The mob? Like the mob-mob?”
I nod. “What do you know about them?”
“I don’t remember anything specific. Just that they were like organized gangs, they carry guns and kill people who get in their way. I think it was like a whole family involved? I’m not sure,” she says as her shoulders drop and she shakes her head. “I don’t remember much else. I’m not even sure where I learned that from.”
I lean back and nod. “That’s pretty accurate. Ultimately, it’s about power, control, and money. They deal in drugs, guns, gambling, and debt. You cross them, you disappear. You pay late, you lose more than money. You get in the way, you’re buried six feet under, no questions asked. And once you join, they don’t let you leave alive.”
Jagger drops on the bed beside me as she asks, “And you’re saying that Ivan is in charge of this… mob?”
“He runs the biggest mob in the world,” Pete adds with an angry glint in his eye. “He’s probably the worst person to have as an enemy.”
“Why would he even want me?” Wren asks before leaning over and grabbing her bottle of Dr. Pepper off the nightstand.
“There’s no way to know for sure,” I say, measuring my words carefully so I don’t upset her. “But it’s probablybecause he wanted the perfect trophy wife. Someone he could parade around on his arm and would be… obedient.”
She frowns down at her drink. “I used to think being obedient was a good thing.”
“It can be,” I say, swinging my legs to the floor and keeping my eyes on her. Jagger’s hand clamps my upper arm, and I glance over my shoulder. He narrows his eyes and shakes his head.
“Trust me,” I tell him. He only shakes his head harder. I lift my chin. “Let. Go,” I say firmly, narrowing my eyes on his fingers still on my arm. He stays silent, so I add, “Jagger, I won’t warn you again.”
He points to his eyes, then to me, and I huff out a breath of unamused restraint. “You’re watching me, I get it.” He lets go of my arm, and I turn back to Wren as she places her drink back on the nightstand.
We’d brought her several varieties to try with dinner tonight and let her pick her favorite. One way of helping her figure out who she was.
“I don’t understand, am I supposed to be obedient, or not?” she asks, her head tilting to the side in genuine curiosity.
I take a moment to consider how to answer her question without confusing her further.
“It’s not that straightforward.” I hold up my palm, stopping her from responding, so I can explain. “Tell me, what was something your brother asked you to do that you didn’t enjoy?”
“Practice the piano,” she replies instantly.
“Okay, so he’d tell you to practice, and you did, but you didn’t like it. So why did you do it?”
“Because he asked me to. And he’s my brother, and Ithought…” She licks her lips, her eyes darting to the side nervously before she finishes. “I thought I had to do what he told me.”
“Come here.” I beckon her over, and she quickly climbs off the bed and moves to stand in front of me. “Give me your hands,” I tell her, holding my hands out, palms up. She places hers in mine, then looks at me expectantly.
“Now, tell me why you just did that?”
