Page 44 of Forced & Owned By the Bratva Boss

“Yes, ma’am.” He hangs up.

I spend the next two hours texting Igor and having a mini heart attack each time my phone beeps with an incoming message. Still, there’s nothing from him. Not even a text.

I don’t like it.

I know whatever’s going on might have absolutely nothing to do with me, but the eerie feeling inside me keeps growing, making me more restless by the second.

This won’t do.

I need to go find him, and I need to tell him everything while I still have the chance to.

So help me God.

***

I pull out a simple cream-colored knit dress that falls just below my knees—comfortable, elegant, and enough to make heads turn in my direction when I pass, even though the only eyes I want on me are Igor’s.

I don’t bother with makeup.

There doesn’t seem to be much of a point when I’m about to confess something that could make my husband hate me. Instead, I brush my hair until the knots disappear, then leave it loose over my shoulders before fastening the sling securely around my injured arm.

Grabbing the car key to the small Benz, I head to the garage.

“Mrs. Nazarov?”

I turn to find blondie behind me. Since I’m about to escape him, I want to sound serious enough for him to not disobey my orders, but for some reason, I can’t remember his name.

Shit.

His name is… “You’re Dimerian?”

“Dimitri,” he corrects me, then looks at the key in my hand and the black car. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Yes.” I chuckle nervously. “I’m going to the club. I haven’t seen my husband all day and I need to make sure he’s okay.”

“Oh.” His brows knit disapprovingly. “Should I let the boss know you’re coming?”

I shake my head. “It’s a surprise. You’d ruin it if you gave him a heads-up. Let’s just keep it between us.”

That’s only half the truth.

The other half is that if I call first, he’ll probably tell me to stay home, and I can’t risk anything getting in the way of telling him the truth.

I should’ve come clean after we made love last night, but it had been so peaceful and sweet, and the last thing I wanted was to ruin the moment I spent a year longing for.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Nazarov, but the boss wouldn’t want you driving to the club alone for your own safety. I’ll take you myself and have security follow us.”

I resist rolling my eyes.

While I understand Igor’s concern, especially with my wounded shoulder and the attack a few days ago, I’m already overwhelmed, and the last thing I need is male strangers in my space under the guise of protecting me.

Dimitri doesn’t look like the type that would give in if I told him no, so I just play along.

“Okay, but hurry, because I need to leave soon.”

He nods. “I’ll be back in five minutes.” He turns the other way, basically jogging out of the garage, most likely to get the other guys and change into something more decent for a chaperone.

The moment he’s out of sight, I slip into the car, start the engine, and pull out of the driveway. My fingers drum anxiously against the steering wheel as I pray to get off the property before he realizes I’m gone while my mind runs through a hundred different scenarios of what I think could be happening to Igor.