Page 41 of Possessive Bratva’s Kidnapped Virgin

“Call them,” I cut in.

Kai and Jay were on the list of our extreme human resources. We didn’t bring them in because their practices were often too ‘final.’ These guys didn’t give a hoot about watching one’s back or being careful.

“Boss, I just mentioned them as a possibility for later. You rarely call—”

“I’m asking you to call them in now,” I insisted.

He nodded twice. “Okay, boss.”

I was irritated, alright. But that was not all. What I really felt, which I’d rather not admit to anyone, was fear. I hated that there was an open window that I didn’t totally know about. I hated that harm could be closer to her than I’d been envisaging.

Isla was hiding something, and it might be dangerous. Something I had to find out about before it detonated in my empire. And my empire wasn’t even my biggest concern.

*****

In the flat light of midday, the poker room always felt different. The same room that seemed to pulsate with desperate energy at night was filled with people who appeared to just be enjoying themselves during the day. Either way, it was more of a pretense.

But Isla moved through it like she’d been doing it for years.

I watched her and noted the way she oriented herself. Not to the tables or the sight lines I would have prioritized, but to the people. She read the emotional weather of every cluster she passed before she reached them, and she adjusted accordingly in a subtle way that went beyond her words or expression. I watched and noticed the warmth she brought to a handshake versus a simple acknowledgment of someone’s presence.

This was not a skill she’d developed for this world. This was the skill she’d been using for years to manage rooms full of powerful people with competing agendas. She’d simply transferred it.

“She’s good,” Dmitri said from beside me.

He’d been standing there for at least a minute, but I had chosen to ignore him.

“She’s professional.”

“She’s more than professional.” He tilted his head, watching her navigate a conversation with two of our floor managers. Within ninety seconds, she had one of them smiling and the other leaning slightly forward, both of them having concluded somewhere in their unconscious processing that she was someone worth listening to.

“She’s…” He seemed to be searching for the word. “Camouflage.”

I looked at him.

“Not in a deceptive way,” he clarified.

Of course, I know.

I said nothing.

“It’s not a weakness,” Dmitri added. “It’s the kind of asset that can’t be manufactured. People either have it, or they perform it, and everyone can tell the difference.” He looked at me. “She’s not performing.”

“I know,” I said.

“Does she know you’re watching her like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to eat her up,” he answered, chuckling.

“Dmitri.”

“I’m asking because she will notice if she hasn’t. She notices everything.” He picked up the drink from the passing tray. “It’s okay. She’s your wife.”

And then he strolled away, leaving me with a hunger for her that seemed to have increased at the thought of the word ‘wife.’

*****