Page 12 of The Bratva’s Stalked Pregnant Bride

That was all false bravado, though, to help me get up the wooden steps and through the front doors, where Mik actually had to give me a little boost to keep me going. How was I still upright and conscious?

Then it was like the guardian angel assigned to me finally woke up and got on duty, because the receptionist was someone new, and then she said that Rand wasn’t there that day. I could breathe again, and actually focus on the old, familiar decor.

The place had some of the finest wines on the West Coast, but at least in terms of the cowboy theme, didn’t take itself too seriously. There were hay rides on the weekends, family-friendly barbecues, upscale wine and cheese tastings, like the one that was scheduled for us today, and the chance to learn everything about making wine from grape to bottle.

Rand was a pillar of the community, and everyone loved him. No one would have believed anything I tried to say otherwise.

But he wasn’t there, and I could breathe again. For the moment. I excused myself to the bathroom, pretending the fact that I could hardly stay on my feet was from skipping breakfast. Not a lie since there was no way a single bite of dry toast would have stayed down from being in such an upheaval.

I hurried down the wood-paneled halls to the offices where I found one of my old friends. Nell was a sweet girl who made all the fresh bread and pastries the vineyard served. She was delighted to see me, though I was certain she was bursting to ask what the hell happened to me. She was also a little hurt that I fell off the face of the earth without confiding in her, since we’d become close in the year I worked there.

While I believed some of them got why I left, they didn’t really, figuring it was just breakup drama that had me leaving. Nell and I shared a lot, but of course, I never told a soul what went on after work hours ended. They must all think I was a flake for running out without giving notice, and I felt bad for leaving them in the lurch.

Not Rand. He could rot in hell.

“Where are you working now?” she asked. “You’re not still in the area, are you? You’ve certainly been hiding.”

True, too true. I didn’t need to fake my embarrassed blush. “Listen, Nell, can you do me a huge favor today, and tell everyone to act like they don’t know me? I’ll explain it all later.”

“You better,” she said, her look of sadness kicking me in the gut.

We’d been true friends, and I got along with almost everyone there, but I had to leave them behind to save myself.

“I will, I swear. I’m sorry I took off the way I did and haven’t called.”

“Or answered any of my texts,” she accused.

“I got a new phone,” I said. “I didn’t see them, sorry.” I quickly gave her my new number, and she promised to spread the word to act like I was a stranger.

“Rand went through a new hiring spree right after you left,” she said. “You probably won’t recognize most everyone who’s here today anyway. He was so heartbroken—”

“Oh darn, Nell, my new boss is waiting for me. I told him I was in the restroom. I swear I’ll message you soon.”

Brokenhearted, my butt. More like a broken ego.

I thanked my guardian angel even if he’d never been there for me before, and relaxed, looking forward to the delicious spread the winery put out. Now I could shine, in my element, with no dark clouds hanging over my head. The first step was to steer Mik in the right direction and make sure we got the best for the restaurant.

Since I saw the private jet, I was more certain than ever that everything had been handed to him, probably from the day he was born. I grew up in a middle-class household, and all my friends were the same, but there were a few kids who had their whole future neatly mapped out for them: college legacies, assured positions in the family business. All they had to do was hold out their hands, and things like breweries, private jets, and limos would all fall into them.

The restaurant was one more thing that Mik had dropped into his lap. If it failed, he could start over with barely a scratch. I couldn’t.

First, we got into a tiny, minor dust-up over the cheese platter. He seemed determined to do the exact opposite of whatever I suggested. What was I supposed to do, pick the wines that were inferior so he’d choose the ones I actually wanted?

I almost wanted to watch his darn restaurant crash and burn, but that meant I’d go down with it. I could imagine the reviews bagging on the poor wine pairings, with my name connected to it all.

My mother would have laughed at me. In the grand scheme of things, no, it wasn’t that important if a wine was a little too dry. But I had worked my butt off to become good at something, to improve myself bit by bit, and soar above my station.

I wanted the best, damn it. Was that so wrong?

After the cheese, it was time to sample the wines, and I was excited to taste the newest vintage, bottled shortly after I left. It wasn’t the grapes’ fault that their owner was a giant asshole, after all.

It might have been petty, but I was probably too pleased when it was too dry for my taste. It wouldn’t suit any of the menu items, and there wasn’t anything special enough about it to agree to Mik’s outrageous statement that we should buy several cases.

I asked for the employee who was thankfully one of the new ones, so there was no need for more subterfuge, to bring out last year’s vintage instead. It was much better.

“You’ll notice the difference right away,” I said, trying not to show my irritation over the argument he was determined to wring out of me, lording it over me that he was the boss. Yeah, but I was the expert. “At least I hope so,” I couldn’t help but mumble when he turned away.

His head whipped around, his eyes narrowed. There was no way he heard that, but I was already cursing myself for letting him crack my professional shell. All I had to do was keep my mouth shut for another hour or so, and we’d be back on the plane on the way home.