Page 55 of The Bratva Enforcer and His Virgin Bride

“He disappeared.”

Of course he did.

I lean back in my chair and pinch the bridge of my nose.

The office falls silent.

Rain taps softly against the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Manhattan glows in the distance beneath a gray sky.

For a long moment, neither of us speaks.

Then Ben clears his throat.

I already know that tone.

I don’t like it. “What?”

His eyes narrow. “You’ve been married for a week.”

I stare at him. “Congratulations. You can count.”

He ignores me. “I feel obligated to point out that normal husbands usually spend time with their wives.”

I return my attention to the file. “As your employer, I feel obligated to remind you that this conversation is irrelevant.”

“It isn’t.”

“It is.” Ben sighs heavily. The sound is irritating. “You married a twenty-three-year-old woman and put her in a mansion with people she barely knows.”

“She’s friends with half the family.”

“That wasn’t my point.”

I close the file. Ben remains completely unimpressed.

Years of working together have made him immune to self-preservation.

“She’s fine.”

“How do you know?”

I pause.

Because the truthful answer is that I don’t. Not really. I know she eats. I know she reads. I know she occasionally disappears into the library for entire afternoons. I know she still looks annoyed whenever she sees me.

Beyond that?

Very little.

Ben notices my silence.

A smug expression appears.

I hate that expression.

“That’s what I thought.”