I force myself to ignore the mess around her on the couch, dirty dishes and magazines and a slew of clothing. “We need to talk.”
My tone is enough to shut her up. Though she’s not happy about it.
“About what? Jesus,” she huffs. “You’re always so dramatic about everything.”
“Who have you told about the divorce?” I demand. Because when I filed for it, she was less than happy. But at the same time, we had an agreement.
She didn’t want this any more than I did. And if we could do it discreetly, she could maybe live a normal life. Not normal in the traditional way. But she could marry any rich man she wanted, and considering how many men ogle her on a regular basis, the options are limitless. With her father pretty much checked outand Tristan being the only one calling the shots, she’s not even really constricted to Bratva anymore.
“No one, God. You think I want to flaunt that Ransome Rozanov would rather be with his personal assistant than me? It’s crazy,” she mutters while taking a sip of something green.
I dodge the response, ignoring the impulse to say something nasty in return.
“Well, someone besides you knows, because Tristan is on the move,” I tell her.
Jenica stops, looking concerned for the first time. “On the move how?”
I study the woman I am married to. The woman whom I had no choice in marrying. The person whose relationship with me is a white flag thrust between our two families.
I don’t know if I can trust her. But I also don’t have much of a choice right now.
“Maverick and Baron got word that he’s building an army. He’s ready to fight and he’s not going to play by anyone’s rules,” I answer.
“Of course he isn’t,” she says as she crawls off the couch. “He’s Tristan. He’s never played by anyone’s rules. And he’s never wanted anything more than to see your family go down. It’s why he was so intent on hurting you and your brother years ago. Pretty sure he didn’t think you’d be apakhan.That put a kink in his power trip, for sure.”
“He has to be stopped,” I tell her.
“Good luck with that,” she says. “He would have to be killed to be stopped. But I can tell you right now that won’t be easy. Every attempt you make to find him, to stop him, to hurt him, he’s just going to have one of the scum bags he’s beaten or bribed into working for him to come after you. But not you specifically. Someone you love. That’s how he operates. He doesn’t just want you gone, Ransome. He wants you to surrender.”
I grit my teeth hard enough to break them. Because I know she’s right. Crazily enough. She doesn’t say a lot of intelligent things, but somewhere under there, she does know what she’s talking about. She knows how the Bratva works. Of course she does. She grew up in the mess of it.
“So what’s your plan?” she asks after a pause. “Because if I had to guess, he’s going to try to take over El Paso soon too.”
“Oh, he’s already tried,” I say. It’s more than obvious now that he is the reason for the trucks being stalled. “We’re getting divorced. Regardless of whatever that’s going to look like, he’s already gone off the deep end. He already knows about it somehow. At this point, the only thing that makes sense is for us to…” I trail off, because I never thought I’d say these words to a Chadovich.
“Work together,” Jenica finishes the sentence for me.
“Yes. However that looks. Because at the end of the day, it’s not my family versus yours anymore.”
No matter how much animosity and resentment I hold at the core of my being.
“It’s everyone who’s willing to join forces against Tristan,” she says soberly.
I nod.
There’s a beat of silence where we both process the current scenario. It’s almost funny, if I’m being honest. This is the first serious and civil conversation I’ve had with Jenica since we tied the knot. Hell, it’s the first serious and civil conversation we’ve had ever.
“I think we need a drink,” I tell her, heading to the kitchen.
“Booze isn’t going to numb the fact that you and I just became friends,” she says with a light laugh.
I let out a low, smileless chortle. “I never said we were friends,” I say, and she laughs again. “And no amount of booze could ever numb my anxiety over the current situation.”
I mix her up a Manhattan while pouring myself two fingers of whiskey.
“Ah, so it is a friendly drink,” she says as I hand her her glass.
I look down at her for a moment. I have no reason to trust her. But she has no reason to trust me either. And to be honest, I don’t believe she is working with Tristan. Tristan is half the reason her life is hell, if we’re being real. No, Jenica wants him gone as much as I do.
