&
Oleg Zadorov
Panic steals my breath as I pull my phone from my pocket with shaking hands. That fucker better not be on the plane yet. If he doesn’t answer my call, I’m taking Ellie to her parents’ house and burning this place to the ground. Luckily for the entire Taranova Bratva, Teddy picks up on the third ring.
“Hey, man, we’re about to take off. Is everything—”
“Her fucking wedding? Mila? I love her, and you’re going to her goddamn wedding without a single explanation?” My anger is wild and hot as I lash out, but it dissolves just as quickly into pain, and I can’t control my sobs.
“Where are you? How do you—”
“I’m curled into the fetal position under your office desk, asshole. I was looking for a lighter, and I found it—”
“Please don’t light any candles—”
“Fuck you!” I scream again, and this is so much better than sobbing that I decide to stick with it, yelling at Teddy until my throat feels like it’s been shredded with the same knife as my heart. “I don’t care about your plane, but if you don’t tell me the entire truth right now, I swear to God, you’ll regret it.”
I can’t believe I’ve just threatened my Bratva boss best friend, who definitely has more than a few kills to his name at this point, but I don’t give a shit anymore. My Mila is marrying someone else in two days in fucking Russia, and I have no clue what’s going on.
“I’ll forgive that because you’re upset and I love you, but do not threaten me ever again, Thatcher. Do you understand?”
His voice is deadly serious, and I sniffle out a petulant yes so he’ll continue.
“I don’t know much more than you do. I don’t think everything is as it seems, and I told you I think everything will work out, but I won’t learn more until we land in Russia. Now, I have to go. We’re literally about to take off. Everything will be okay. Please take care of Ellie. I’ll see you next week.”
The service was already starting to spot by the time his goodbye fades away, and I let my phone drop from my hand to the floor. The daylight fades until darkness consumes the room, yet I can’t bring myself to uncurl and move from my hiding spot under the desk. I briefly consider that I might feel safe under the desk because that’s the first place I was allowed to touch Mila, and I swear I can almost feel her hand playing with my hair.
The pain overcomes me, and I vomit violently onto the rug under the desk, mostly bile since I haven’t eaten since breakfast. My first thought is to find something to clean it up, but this is the least of what Teddy deserves for being less than honest with meearlier. In any case, it’s enough to get me off my ass because, as miserable as I am, I can’t lie here with the stench of vomit.
Trudging back to my room feels like a death march, every step representing another inch away from Mila. Having to think about her in the past tense is the worst fate I could imagine for myself, and if I hadn’t realized I had loved her before, I sure as fuck would now. This is heartbreak, and every stupid song and movie about love lost suddenly makes sense.
The funny thing is, she’d be so disappointed in how I’m acting right now.
“You aren’t a quitter, solnyshko. I know you can take it. The reward will be much better on the other side if you keep pushing.”
That’s the problem, though. Iama quitter. Anything I managed to endure was only because of her. And this time, she’s not by my side.That’s the difference.I brush my teeth and try to sleep, but it’s impossible. I’m haunted by the idea that if the shoe were on the other foot, she’d burn down the world to get to me.
She’d burn it all down without a thought.I know this is true, deep in my bones. I don’t know why she’s getting married, but it can’t be a simple answer. It has to be politics, or blackmail, or…
Blackmail.
Shit.Shit.I’ve been moping and wasting precious fucking hours when it’s so goddamn obvious. Mila’s in trouble. For the first time in over a week, I have a clear purpose in life, and one priority above all others.
I dial a number in my phone that I haven’t used since my playboy days, but there should be plenty of goodwill left over to ensure what I need is ready within the hour.
“Hey, Prescott. Long time no talk. Wanna party?”
“I need a long-haul jet. Range to get to Russia. Ready and in Thunder Bay as soon as you can have it here. Cost isn’t an issue.”
“Shit, man, consider it done. I have one in Miami that can get to you in no time. But what’s the rush? Should I be worried?” He laughs, but I don’t return it.
“Not you, man. But someone should be. Someone’s got my girl, and I’m getting her back. No matter the cost.”
Chapter 39
With every passingday, I miss Thatcher more. It’s been torture to have to ignore him, and I know he’s probably spiraling at my silence. Teddy arrived today, and I wanted so badly to ask him how my solnyshko was doing, but even that’s too dangerous. We’re so close to the finish line here, though, and I just have to make it through one more night pretending to be in love with Oleg the oaf. Between him and his father, I’m not sure who I’m more excited to kill. It was decidedly Zakhar, but every moment I’m forced to stand by Oleg’s side, I loathe him more. As I sit beside him with his unwelcome hand on my thigh, inching higher, it’s taking everything within me not to take him out right here and now.
“To Oleg and Mila!”
