Page 50 of Bratva Vow

“Because that was our deal.”

He leans back on the counter, settling into one of his smug little victories. “You make it sound so cold.”

“It is cold. You don’t get to play knight in shining armor. You bought my freedom. You’re renting my life.”

His eyes spark, like he enjoys me snapping at him, which only makes me grind my teeth harder.

“And yet,” he says, voice soft now. “You’re benefiting from my investment.”

I want to scream at him. I want to tell him none of this means anything, that the bakery doesn’t erase the chains tying me to him.

But the truth is, my fingers itch to keep writing lists, and my chest is tight with the dangerous mix of exhaustion and excitement.

“Is this mine or yours?” I ask because I don’t want to keep playing games. “I want an open line of communication.”

“Yours.”

“If you have me offed tomorrow, it’s still yours. My whole fortune is yours, sweetheart.”

I gape at him. “What?” He takes that moment to take another bite of his breakfast sandwich just to mess with me. “Stop teasing me, Benedikt.”

“I’m not.”

I narrow my eyes, searching his face for the catch. There’salwaysa catch. But he only looks calm, like he’s winning some secret game I don’t understand.

“I don’t want your fortune,” I convey. “Just the bakery.”

“Then don’t kill me.”

Ha.

Like I’m capable of such a feat.

That’s too much wasted energy, and I’d rather spend it here.

I need something that’s mine.

Even if it means surviving him to keep it.

15

Benedikt

Detective Miller Campbell doesn’t belong here.

Not at Sienna’s bakery.

Not leaning against his beat-up sedan like he owns the sidewalk in front of a building I only signed papers on days ago.

She hasn’t even walked through the doors again yet, and it pisses me off that he’s here.

Inherspace.

In my futurewife’sspace.

I don’t make a scene.

I don’t need to.