Page 41 of The Bratva’s Stalked Pregnant Bride

He nodded and drove off, and a glance through the open door of Mik’s office showed me he was already there. Why did that make me breathe easier? If something had happened to him, someone would have notified me. But if I didn’t worry about what he got up to during his many late nights, then I might get suspicious, and that didn’t sit well with me.

I barely made it to my own office door before he caught up to me, wrapping his arms around my middle and turning me to face him.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said.

“I could eat breakfast, I guess,” I said, studying the slightly manic look in his eyes, then dropping my gaze to his mouth. “Is that a split lip?” I asked, leaning back to get a better look.

“I burned it on my morning coffee,” he said, then frowned. “I don’t mean breakfast. Let’s go somewhere fun. We’ll call it a honeymoon.”

I stared up at him. A vacation? Was he crazy? “You do remember you’re opening a restaurant in a month?” I asked. “The builders have been staying late every day trying to get everything done, and you want to leave town?”

I laughed, certain he was joking, but he didn’t join in, instead looking genuinely disappointed that I didn’t jump to agree.

“The builders can keep staying late if we’re in Italy,” he said, pulling me closer while his hands moved lower. “Or France. Or Spain. Any vineyard you want.”

“Why do you suddenly seem so hellbent on getting out of LA?” I demanded. I wasn’t stupid. “Is something going on?” It didn’t take a medical professional to know that the cut on his lip wasn’t from hot coffee.

He laughed, but it was forced. “Is that wifely concern?”

Before I could answer, he yanked me flush with his hard body, making me forget my train of thought. Oh yeah, did his desire to go on vacation within weeks of his business either soaring or crashing have anything to do with the late nights he didn’t ever want to talk about?

But then he was kissing me, his hands smoothing their way up to slide into my hair. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Wasn’t I just thinking how great it would be to travel around the world tasting wines? Almost immediately after, my magic husband offered it to me.

Fake husband. The same one who thought he could lie about his busted lip. And yet, I didn’t pull away as his tongue tangled with mine. No, I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on. So much for being able to handle a tiny taste.

“Delivery rolling up,” someone called from down the hall.

I froze, then remembered it didn’t matter if anyone saw us making out. It wasn’t exactly professional, but we were married, and Chase and Todd thought we were the cutest couple other than themselves.

Mik pulled away slowly. “Did I change your mind?” he asked, eyes dancing with mischief.

I shoved him, but he held on tight, laughing. “I have a delivery,” I said, wriggling out of his grasp.

He followed me out back to help, dragging the dolly with him, asking how much I spent on this new shipment. “I think this one is something for the kitchen,” I told him. “I’m the one trying to constantly save you money by not letting perfectly good wine go to waste every time you change the menu.”

Hurrying up behind me, he slapped me briskly on my ass cheek, giving me a little squeeze before letting go. “Let’s argue about it some more in your office after we get everything inside.”

He’d been on edge. Now he was joking around, but I had a feeling he was going to press about the vacation. Was I going to be able to resist for the sake of his restaurant? Did I want to?

The truck backed in as we walked outside to meet it in the alley, with Mik holding up his hand to let them know when to stop. As soon as the reverse beeps stopped, the door of the truck crashed upward from the inside.

In the next instant, I was on the ground, flung out of the way by Mik, who threw himself to the far side of the truck as I bounced off the back door. At least half a dozen masked men dressed all in black swarmed out. I screamed for Mik, and scrambled on my hands and knees back into the restaurant to the sound of breaking glass and a hail of bullets.

Chapter 24 - Mikhail

It was only a lifetime of instincts and never letting my guard down that saved both Laurel and me from the gunfire that began to spray as soon as the truck door was flung open. All hell was breaking loose, and I barely got out of the way after I shoved Laurel back inside.

Why the hell was my restaurant being ambushed, completely out of the blue? No one should know this unopened business belonged to anyone in my family. No random person would attempt an armed robbery on a building that was still under construction. Laurel might have some expensive wines in stock, but that wasn’t what these folks were after.

Bullets dug into the brickwork wall and pinged off the dumpster. When the masked men jumped out of the truck, half went looking for me, and the other half headed inside. My stomach churned as I ran around to the front, pulling the small gun I kept hidden in my jacket at all times.

The driver ducked before I could take him out of the equation, and I was too concerned with the gunmen who were now inside my restaurant, where Laurel was.

I could hear her screams over the volley of bullets and roared with frustration that I couldn’t get past the three who stayed outside. We were essentially playing ring around the rosie as they chased me around the truck with their much stronger firepower.

Pissed off, I stopped and turned around, getting off a lucky shot as soon as one rounded the front end of the vehicle. Right between the eyes, and he dropped to the concrete, pouring blood all over the place. What a bitch that was going to be to clean up.

That made the other two pause, and I hauled ass to get inside.