Page 78 of Hateful Vows

I don’t tell her how much I love her.

After we clean up, I send the video to Dante, hoping he jerks off to it on his way back to us.

“Send it to me, too,” Irina says, feigning nonchalance, but she bites her lip and it makes mine tip up into a full blown shit-eating grin.

THIRTY-ONE

ALEKSEI

Irina paces the length of the Ventura’s mansion living room, creating a groove in the soft carpet.

It’s three am and there’s no sign of Dante. No text, no calls.

My last text sits as unread in our group chat.

Her phone rings with a masked number and her face turns ashen. My stomach drops at the sight.

“Irina Ventura,” she answers before putting the caller on speaker.

“Mrs Ventura, I have bad news for you.”

The thick Irish accent is unmistakable. Only one man would be so bold as to call her directly. It doesn’t matter that we all protect our phones to the best of our abilities. There’s always someone somewhere capable of finding it if they’re determined enough.

“Cian Moore,” I greet.

The beat of silence betrays his surprise but when he speaks again, he doesn’t show it, all business again.

“Pakhan, he greets. “Mrs Ventura, your husband was supposed to take his flight back to you later this evening. I didn’t allow him to stay in my city but his jet is still parked on the tarmac of Dublin airport. And my men have found his.”

“What do you mean you have found his men?” Irina asks, an edge of anxiety in her words.

“They’re dead.”

“All of them?” She asks. Fear tinges her voice.

“Yes.” Her face falls and her chin wobbles, shutting her jaw so tight I’m afraid she’ll pop a tooth. “The man you came to investigate is under my protection, and he’s not the one trying to kill your husband. I think you already know that.”

She swallows before answering. “We suspected.”

“Casio has a woman here, someone I care about, and a three-year-old little girl.” He sighs like the next part costs him. Nerves prickle along the nape of my neck, my hair rising with anticipation. Whatever comes next is not going to be good. “I suspect the culprit has found Dante. I’m calling you as a courtesy.”

“Fuck!” I exclaim.

Irina’s eyes widen, staring at the phone but unseeing. Her breathing picks up, and I jump into action. With a hand on her elbow, I lead her to sit on the sofa, where Percy is resting. Sensing his mistress’s distress, he settles on her lap and purrs loudly.

“We’ll need permission to enter your territory,” I tell Cian. “We’ll stay away from Irish business, but we need to come and go and follow any traces.”

“You have it. But Dobrev, I don’t think they’re still in Ireland.”

I nod, though he can’t see me, and disconnect the call. Landing on my knees in front of Irina, I take her hands in mine.

“Malyshka.”

She shakes her head frantically, closing her eyes and forcing her breaths in and out through her nose.

“Five things I see, four things I hear, three things I smell, two things I can touch, one thing I can taste,” she whispers, comingback to the grounding technique I taught her years ago. She opens her eyes, darting her gaze to the room and listing things as she goes before moving on to the other senses. “Okay. Okay. I’m here.”

She shakes her shoulders and expels one last deep breath before the cold-hearted Irina I know and love is back in front of me. I love every version of her, even the vulnerable panicked one that fears for her husband’s life, but the fierce queen ready to raze the country to the ground might be my favourite.