Page 207 of Bleed with Me

I locked my office door because Zara and Aryna had already snooped through my stuff the other day, then walked into the spacious living room. Malin had just removed his motorcycle helmet and was leaning an elegant black walking stick against the sofa.

“Hey,” I greeted him with a smile. “I didn’t expect you here.”

More like, I didn’t realize he was bored like fuck because Zyon forbade him from working until he completely recovered. Considering three surgeries and the knee replacement, it’d take at least another six months for him to heal fully.

“I came to pick up the girls,” he said, winking at Aryna, who scrutinized the skull-shaped handle on his walking stick. She flashed him a million-dollar smile and continued the examination.

“Where are you taking them?” I frowned, trying to remember whether Dorian had mentioned a trip or something else that had slipped my mind.

“Away,” he replied curtly as he opened his motorcycle suit and sat on the couch. Before I realized what he was doing, he took it off and checked his messy hair in the visor of his helmet.

“You wear jeans under all that leather?” I stared at him, involuntarily shuddering at the thought.

“Only when necessary.” He stood up, pulling a knife holster and a gun from the suit. My eyes widened, but he hid them before the girls could notice. “This is for you.” He handed me a black envelope.

“What is it?” I turned it over, frowning at the golden, engraved DZ on the back.

“Follow the instructions,” were Malin’s last words. A couple of minutes later, the door behind him and the girls closed, and I was left alone in the living room with a note from my husband.

It’s not a traditional kidnapping, but I’ll do it if you don’t come to me willingly, ma vilaine. The plane is ready. Pack that sexy red bikini.

“Seriously?” I stared at it in disbelief. “Now?”

My phone beeped in the back pocket of my jeans.

Infuriating husband: Yes, Nina. Now.

My mouth formed an O as I read the message again.

Did he…

Infuriating husband: Yes, I’m stalking you. Now, move your sexy ass. I’m paying the pilot an ungodly amount of money.

Nina: What’s the magic word?

Infuriating husband: Abracadabra… Are you there? NO! You’re still in our living room.

Nina: Try again.

I smiled at the phone, refusing to move until he asked properly. Nina Valentino, pardon me, Zhumagulov, didn’t take orders from anyone. Her husband included.

Infuriating husband: Dear Mrs. Zhumagulov, be so kind and sacrifice two days of your precious time to spend a lovely weekend with your husband at a sunny Bahamian beach. Pretty please.

A laugh spilled out of me, and I quickly typed.

Nina: Very well then. But only because you asked nicely.

Four hours later, I entered a spacious three-story house in the Bahamas, gaping at Valeria.

“No spa?” I asked, sensing something shady in the air.

“Bahamas are better than a spa.” She grinned, leading me further inside.

The view stole my breath away. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, turquoise water shimmered beneath the afternoon sun, stretching toward the horizon without a single building in sight. A wide terrace opened behind the house, leading past an infinity pool to a narrow stone path winding between palm trees and lush tropical greenery. At the end, the path opened onto a secluded strip of white sand transformed into a wedding scene.

Wait a second. A fucking wedding scene!

My heart stumbled as I took in the scenery. Rows of elegant white chairs faced the ocean, separated by an aisle scattered with pale rose petals. A simple wooden arch stood close to the water, wrapped in flowing ivory fabric and tropical flowers that moved gently in the sea breeze. Small lanterns and candles lined the sand, waiting for sunset.