I put my back to them, moving close to Santiago and Kade, so I don’t have to talk loudly. “It sounds like I’m getting a tour of the Petrov empire today. Do you have a car?”
“Yes. We have everything we need.”
“Can you do me a favor and grab some water and food? I’m not taking anything he offers.”
Santiago looks pissed off. “Is he expecting you to travel with him?”
“I said yes already.” I have to press my hands together to stop from reaching out to soothe his irritation. “There’s no point sweating the small stuff. Anyway, it gives you the chance to talk about what I need.”
“What do you need?” Kade drops into carer mode instantly, while Santiago is still miffed I’m not traveling with him.
“Aleksei is in the same car.” Santiago’s lips lift, and a rumble from his chest starts up. I have to talk a little louder. “I guess one of the dogs will come with us, too, so there’s no need for that Alpha growl.”
As much as he is my scent-matched Alpha, and I can speak to him without being worried he’s going to snap, I still need to maintain the facade we’re just working together. I turn my face slightly so the men behind me can see my hoity expression, backing up the direct way I’m speaking, as a client would. And knowing we’re being watched, I flick my hand impatiently like a snobby bitch would, cutting him off when he goes to say something.
I turn back to them and talk even quieter. “Santiago, I need a lawyer experienced in prenups and complex deeds. They have to know the intricacies of this world. Only people you would trust your life with.”
It’s a huge gamble asking him because what I said can be interpreted a few ways, and none of them would reflect well on me. It puts me in a dangerous situation. I wish I could say with absolute certainty, finding your scent matches trumps every other motive, but I’ve seen scent matches deceive and double-cross their fated mates with horrific results.
In my heart, I know I can trust them—they just tended to me during my most vulnerable time—but I need to think with my head on this matter. It would be the cruelest joke in the world if I married Sergey, died as a result, and then left the people I’m trying to protect unprotected and worse off.
I walk off without another word, appearing to rummage thoughtlessly through the Birkin I found in my closet. Whoever replenished my wardrobe knows me better than I know myself. And right now, it’s giving me the chance to find my sunglasses to hide my gathering tears.
I need a few moments alone and opt to wait outside. The front door is open, so I take it as a good sign the roaming dogs are still locked up, and it’s as threat-free as you can be in the mafia world. Roshka and Nalla stay close, but they trot down the stairs, leaving me staring at the fleet of waiting cars. It’s the first time in a while I’ve been alone, and it’s nice, but it’s nicer again when I feel both Santiago and Kade approaching.
We don’t get a chance to say a word before we’re rejoined by Aleksei and a couple of Sergey’s guards. They’re having a conversation that looks and sounds serious, though it’s not really much of a conversation, since Aleksei is the only one speaking.
With a small turn of my head, I can watch him shamelessly from behind my sunglasses. He’s such an attractive-looking Alpha, it’s not an arduous task perving on him. Since breakfast, he’s changed too. The suit he’s wearing now hugs him in all the right places, and while that should keep me entertained, myclaws come out knowing the bimbos are going to see him looking incredible when I’d like to keep him all to myself.
I enjoy the view a bit longer, dazed by my snarly mood and the accompanying tightness in my chest any time I think of another woman looking at him.
No matter how hard I try not to, my gaze keeps going back to him, my eyes settling on his shirt over and over again, like my brain is trying to tell me something. It takes a while for what I am seeing to sink in, and when it registers, I nearly fucking die on the spot.
Aleksei is wearing the shirt I wore during my heat. God knows how. It would be peppered by my scent, but he must have done something because there’s no denying it’s the one I wore. Right under the small monogram of his initials is the stain I made when I dropped a blueberry.
His voice is getting louder, his aggression and frustration impossible to ignore, but at one point, he glances my way and a smile dances across his mouth, so fast I wonder if I saw it.
Santiago muttering, “kill the idiot” under his breath confirms what I initially thought I imagined.
Before any of us can do or say anything else, Sergey and the girls appear. All of them have changed, and they look freaking amazing together. It’s like they’ve collaborated; each of them wears something different, but they’re all matching in style and color. If they were people I like, I’d definitely comment on it, but given Sergey’s raging mood, I stay exactly where I am and let the scene play out. Sergey and Aleksei have a heated exchange of words, and behind them, their guards pull out their phones and start sending off messages.
Something has happened.
Sergey’s men hurry the girls to the second car. One of them climbs into the front seat; the other continues on to the car in front. More men appear from the side of the house, and theysplinter too, some joining those cars and the remaining climbing into the car behind.
Kade moves slowly and quietly to my side, his voice soft, his eyes roving all around the place but not at me. “You’ll have to find out for us what is going on.”
I nod slightly, and he keeps talking.
“Remember, our focus is only you. We literally don’t give a shit about anything happening to them. If something does happen while we’re out today, I want you to trust we’re on our way to you. Nothing will stop us either, okay? Huddle down, wherever you can, then wait. No heroics. No helping. Nothing. This isn’t like back home.”
I get what he’s referring to, and I wish I had the opportunity to assure him that the way I acted that night was a one-off, but Sergey clicks his fingers and glares in my direction until I heel.
My delightful husband is being plain fucking rude, summoning me like a dog, which is nothing new. The way Aleksei stares daggers at the back of his brother's head is, however, new.
For the second time in as many minutes, I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop from smiling.
As soon as we’re in the car, Roshka included, our convoy rolls out. Thankfully the car we’re traveling in has bench seats facing each other, so I can avoid sitting next to Sergey. I spend the time we travel taking in the view out the side window while the Petrov brothers talk business and make calls.
