Page 28 of Forced to Marry the Russian Bratva

“I had no other choice, goddamn it,” I hiss. “She works in the Zakharov building, for fuck’s sake.”

“The Zakharov building?” He frowns. “Is that why you made a mess there? Those men you fucking killed. I was so pissed when you called, Val. So fucking mad that you got involved.”

“I had to,” I hiss, glancing around to make sure we’re alone. “Some men were threatening her.”

“So you what? Killed those men, got her out? Then married her? Fuck.”

“What would you have done?” I glower at him.

“Anything but what you did. Since when do you care about random civilians getting mixed up with the Zakharovs?”

I don't answer immediately, and understanding dawns on his face.

“Christ, Val. You're obsessed with her.”

“I'm not obsessed,” I protest, though the lie tastes bitter on my tongue. “I'm protecting her.”

“Stop lying to yourself. We were all wondering where you’ve been, but you were watching the building more than you had to just to keep an eye on her, weren’t you?”

His question hits too close to home, and I look away.

Leonid studies me for a moment longer, then sighs. “When will you tell the others? About why you married her?”

“Tomorrow,” I sigh. “Today, the shock I’ve brought on is enough for one evening, don’t you think?”

“I’d say so,” Leonid sighs too. “Anyways. My guys and I did the clean-up, and we learned one of the guys you shot survived your little shooting spree.”

My attention snaps back fully. “What? Where is he?”

“Downstairs. We haven’t questioned him. Let him heal a bit first, for you to do whatever it is you need to.”

I nod, already moving. “Let's go.”

Leonid grabs my arm. “What about her?” He nods toward the garden, where Gela is visible through the window, admiring some roses with my sisters.

“She'll be fine with them for a while,” I assure him. “This won't take long.”

“Okay, if you say so,” he agrees and leads me to the back of the hallway, past a door to the soundproof chamber where we conduct negotiations.

The minute we enter, I notice the man strapped to a chair in the center of the room. It's the third guy from Gela's office—the one I shot in the knee before putting a bullet in his head.

Apparently, miracles do happen.

“Well, well, well,” my voice booms through the room. “What do we have here?”

The man's head snaps up at the sound of my voice.

“Yuri,” he spits.

“You remember me. I'm flattered,” I say, approaching him slowly. “But I don't remember you. Enlighten me.”

“Fuck you,” he growls.

I smile coldly. “Not the answer I was looking for.”

I nod to Leonid, who steps forward with a pair of pliers. The man's eyes follow the tool, and his breathing quickens.

“Let's try again,” I suggest. “Who are you working for?”