Page 115 of The Bratva Betrayal

I let him come to me. He stops beside me at the rack with his eyes on the silk like we’re just two strangers with similar taste.

“Nice color,” he says conversationally. “What do you think? Too much lace?”

“I think you should put it down and say whatever you came to say, Mr. Manifold.”

He smiles, and it’s a good smile, the kind that gets people elected. Warm and self-deprecating and hollow underneath.

“You’re direct. I appreciate that.” He replaces the nightgown on the rack carefully, every movement measured because he’s very aware of who else is in the room.

“I’m looking for Misha Makarov.”

“Aren’t we both?”

“I highly doubt that, Miss Gallagher. You’re his fiancée, which means you probably know more about where he is than you’re inclined to share.”

“The engagement ended,” I tell him. “Whatever arrangements Misha made, those aren’t my concern anymore.”

“They are now.” Something shifts underneath the pleasantness of his tone. Something with teeth. “Misha and I had an arrangement, and arrangements don’t dissolve simply because one party decides to leave town. Three million dollars is a significant sum, and it doesn’t disappear with him.” He picks up another item from the rack without looking at it, maintaining the performance of browsing while his eyes remain fixed on my face. “Which means the conversation comes to the people closest to him. And right now, Miss Gallagher, that’s you.”

“I don’t think that’s your best move, Mr. Manifold. I have two men behind me who will drag you out by your ass with a glance. I’m not the one to play with.”

“Your father came to me six months ago. Did you know that? Asked me to look the other way on certain operations, offered me something significant in exchange.” He tilts his head, cataloguing my reactions. “I declined. Not because I lack practicality, but because what your father was offering wasn’t commensurate with what I’d be giving up.”

“And what would you be giving up?”

“My trajectory,” he says simply. “I’m going somewhere, Miss Gallagher. Further than this city or this state, and the people I need to get there are watching very carefully how I handle situations like yours.” He lets that sit for a moment. “And that means I need Misha’s debt settled, one way or another, and I need it settled soon.”

“Then find Misha.”

“I’d rather find you,” he says, a threat delivered with manners. “You’re more accessible, more visible, and frankly more motivated to make this disappear quietly, given the company you’ve been keeping lately.” He pauses. “Artem Makarov is an interesting choice for a woman who’s supposedly just a civilian. But then, you’ve never really been just a civilian, have you?”

Something twists in my chest, but I keep my face even. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you do.” He steps closer, and I hold my ground. “I’ve been watching your family for a long time. I know considerably more than you’d find comfortable. And what I know tells me that you are connected to people who can make my work very easy or very difficult, and I would strongly prefer easy.” His eyes hold mine with steady, practiced confidence, sharpened by years of making people uncomfortable and walking away clean. “Think of this as an opportunity to be useful. Which, from what I understand, is something the Gallagher family has always expected of you.”

He reaches out and closes his hand around my wrist.

Not violently yet, just the kind of pressure that silently communicates that he can do considerably more than this, and we both understand that perfectly well.

I don’t look at my men, nor do I make a sound.

I keep my eyes on Lucas Manifold’s face, and I think about every word he’s said since he picked up the nightgown.

He’s using me as leverage. He thinks I’m stupid.

I let him continue to think that and allow him to hold my wrist because I’m not finished listening, and letting go on his terms would mean this conversation is over on his terms, too.

“How are we going to settle this, Miss Gallagher?”

“You really are a fucking idiot, aren’t you, Mr. Manifold? My two brothers would hunt you down and torture you for walking up to me like this.”

He smirks like a confident piece of shit he is. Like he’s doing all this for the good of the people and his perceived notion that he’s doing some good in the world.

“I have the law behind me,” he replies. “And men in blue who will rip through your family within a night’s time.”

“Good luck with that, Mr—” A body steps in between us, and I have zero time to register it before I hear a grunt and the massive muscle and flesh move to the side.

I’m released and find a hand wrapped around Manifold’s throat.