Page 110 of The Cold Bratva King and His Forced Curvy Bride

“Give me your phone. Your passwords. Your contacts. Every detail of your life.”

He didn’t hesitate. He pulled a burner phone from his pocket and slid it across the desk. Then he pulled out a small SD card.

“Everything is on there,” he said. “My bank accounts, my sister’s schedule, the men I owe money to. It’s all yours.”

I picked it up, feeling the plastic edge bite into my skin. I held his life in my hand.

“If you go dark,” I said, “I will assume you’ve been compromised. I will burn everything. You, me, her. I will scrub you from existence.”

“I won’t go dark.”

“You’d better not.”

I stood up and extended my hand. “We have a deal, Ayaan.”

He shook it. His grip was firm, his palm dry. “Nikita.”

“Go home,” I said. “Pack a bag and say goodbye to your sister. You leave tonight.”

He nodded. He turned and walked to the door. He stopped with his hand on the knob, looking back at me.

“She doesn’t know,” he said softly. “About any of this.”

“It’s better that way,” I said.

“Is it?” He looked at me, and for a second, I saw the terror beneath the resolve. “She’s going to hate me for leaving.”

“She’ll get over it.”

“She won’t.” He shook his head. “She’s stubborn and loyal. She’ll spend every waking moment looking for me. She’ll put herself in danger trying to find me.”

I looked at him, really looked at him. I saw the love he had for her, fierce and protective. It mirrored the feelings I was starting to harbor for her myself, though I wouldn’t admit it then.

“That’s where you come in,” he said.

“Me?”

“You have to stop her.”

“Excuse me?”

“You have to… distract her. Control her. Keep her close enough to watch, but far enough away to keep her hands clean.”

I scoffed. “You want me to babysit your sister?”

“I want you to protect her,” he corrected, his voice hardening. “If she comes looking for me, Lorenzo will find her, and he’ll use her to get to me.”

He walked back over to the desk, slamming his hands down on the wood.

“If she gets hurt because of this,” he said, his eyes blazing, “I will kill you. I don’t care who your father is. I don’t care how many men you have. I will come back from the dead and end you.”

I stared at him. I believed him.

“She’ll be safe,” I said. “I give you my word.”

“Your word isn’t enough.”

“What do you want? Blood?”