Page 71 of Marked By the Mob

Though there’s plenty of that too.

Eduard stirs on her other side, his arm draped possessively across her hip. Artur is sprawled in the recliner near the window, his dark eyes already open and watching my movements. He knows what today brings. We all do.

The other Bratva bosses want Emma. They see her as a resource that should be shared among the families, not kept by three men who’ve already broken tradition by uniting their operations. The meeting this afternoon will determine whether we can hold our ground or whether we’ll be forced into a conflict that could tear apart everything we’ve built.

I slide out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake Emma yet. She needs rest after spending most of the night digging through FBI files two nights ago, chasing leads that keep circling back to people she trusted. The betrayal is eating at her. I can see it in the tight set of her shoulders and the way her hands curl into fists even in sleep.

She’s ours to protect now. And I’ll kill every fucking Bratva family member before I let them take her.

Eduard joins me in the bathroom, his expression serious as we go through our morning routine in silence. The unspoken understanding between us is clear. Today we draw a line, and we defend it no matter the cost.

By the time we return to the bedroom, Emma is awake. She sits up against the headboard, the sheet pooled around her waist, leaving her bare from the waist up. My gaze drops to her full breasts, the dusky pink of her nipples, and heat floods through me.

“Morning,” she says, her voice still rough with sleep.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Artur replies from the recliner, his crooked grin firmly in place despite everything.

“Don’t call me that,” Emma mutters.

I move to the bed and sit on the edge, my hand finding her thigh beneath the sheet. “We need to talk about today.”

Her eyes sharpen immediately, all traces of sleep vanishing. “What’s happening?”

“We have a meeting with the other Bratva bosses,” Eduard says, pulling on a fresh shirt. “About them demanding access to you.”

Emma’s jaw tightens. “And you’re going to tell them no.”

“We’re going to make it very fucking clear that you belong to us,” I say flatly. “Not them. Not anyone else.Us.”

She studies my face for a long moment, looking for the truth in my expression. But I can’t lie to her, and she’s too smart to believe comfortable words anyway.

“What if they don’t accept that?” she asks quietly.

“Then we deal with the consequences.” I stand and move to the closet, pulling out a dark suit. “But you’re not leaving this estate. Not today.”

I expect her to argue, to demand she be part of the meeting or at least have a say in what happens. Instead, she just nods once and slides out of bed, completely naked and unselfconscious as she walks to the bathroom. My gaze drops to the curve of her ass and the way her hips sway with each step. I have to force myself to focus on getting dressed instead of following her.

Breakfast is tense. We gather in the smaller dining room, the four of us seated around the table while staff brings food. Emma picks at her eggs, her attention drifting to the laptop we’ve left on the side table.

“You can use it,” I say, drawing her gaze. “But with restrictions.”

Her eyebrows rise. “What kind of restrictions?”

“No outgoing communications,” Eduard explains. “You can search, read, and download files. But you can’t send emails, messages, or access any platform that would alert the Bureau you’re still alive.”

Emma’s expression shifts from curious to frustrated. “That limits what I can do.”

“It keeps you safe,” Artur counters. “If the wrong people realize you’re accessing FBI systems, they’ll come looking. And we can’t protect you if we don’t know who’s hunting you.”

The set of her jaw and the way her fingers tighten around her fork tell me she wants to argue. But after a moment, she nods. “Fine. I’ll work within the restrictions.”

“Good.” I finish my coffee and stand. “We leave in an hour. You stay here with the guards.”

“I know the drill,” Emma says, her tone dry.

I move around the table and cup her face in my hands, tilting her head back so she has to meet my eyes. “We’ll be back before dark. Don’t do anything stupid while we’re gone.”

Her lips curve into a small smile. “Define stupid.”