Page 26 of Beautiful Trauma (The Irish Rogues #5)

A s I paced the floor of my office at Bandia , I gripped my phone tightly against my ear. Like us, Bratva had a strong security wall. It had taken Giovanni almost twenty-four hours to get Mila's cell number.

I’d spent the last thirty-six hours in agony. I hadn’t eaten, and I’d barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Mila cradling Dima’s head on the tarmac. The despondent expression on her face haunted me.

I kept going over and over those last few moments when Dima had tried to assassinate me. Although I wanted to hate Andrew for returning fire, I couldn’t. It was what he was trained to do, which was to save my life when it was in danger. Firing back at the threat was part of protocol.

Despite all of that, I still wanted to beat the hell out of him. Not for saving my life, but for firing back at the threat. If he hadn’t done that, then Dima wouldn’t have been shot.

Most of all, I wouldn’t have to feel like I’d lost Mila just when I’d gotten her back.

At the fourth ring, she answered. “Mila, it’s me.”

“Kellan?” she hissed.

“Yes, please don’t hang up.”

“Why are you calling me?”

“I was desperate to hear your voice. I need to know you’re okay…if Dima is okay.”

My chest clenched at the sniffle echoing on the line. “He’s still in a coma.”

“Oh God,” I murmured.

“Even if he comes out of it, he’ll have lasting damage.”

“I’m so fucking sorry. You know I’d do anything to be able to take this pain away from you and from him. I still want to throttle my bodyguard for returning fire.”

A pause came over the line. “You shouldn’t be calling me.”

My heart clenched at her words. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“No, it’s not. I need to see you. Tell me where you are, and I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Are you crazy? If you step foot into our territory, you’ll be killed.”

“Then come to me. I’ll send our jet for you.”

“If I tried to get on a Kavanaugh plane, my father would shoot me himself.”

Agony ricocheted through me. “What are you saying?”

“Forget about me,” she whispered.

An anguished cry tore from my chest. “Never. I can never forget about you.”

“We were living in a fantasy in Dublin. We were never going to have a future together. And now with Dima…it’s even more impossible.”

“Mila, please–”

“I mean it, Kellan. Don’t call me again.”

When she hung up, desperation rocketed through me. I called back, but it went to voicemail. I kept on redialing until she blocked me.

I tore a hand through my hair, painfully jerking the strands as I fought to keep from screaming. Pinching my eyes shut, I delved deep into my mind, searching for the name of the gallery Mila had said she worked at.

And then it hit me.

The Lumiere.

I started to bring the phone to my ear when there was no way I could take the jet to Philadelphia. After what had happened, neither my brothers nor Andrew would knowingly let me out of the city.