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Chapter twenty-three

Any More Questions?

Eoghan

“ Y uliya,” I finally said, after she’d wound me through hall after hall in the massive complex of theirs. “Where the hell are you taking me?”

“Meeting room,” she said, without looking back. “You will meet the other operators. Flanagan is already there.”

Her strides were long and sure. An Amazon of a woman, her hair pleated back in an intricate braid that was tucked into the back of her shirt, presumably to keep it out of the way when the fighting started.

Of course, Sinead was already there. She was early to everything. On time was late to Green Fields Enterprises Captain Sinead Flanagan.

I smiled, proud of her, in my own strange fraternal way. She was far from the little unicorn-loving princess she had been in her youth. I rather liked this version of her much more.

Still, this was a long hallway. It felt like we were walking ‘round the asshole to get to the elbow.

The longer we walked, the further I felt from Kira. The longer she was out of my sight, the more anxious I felt. I still did not trust these Russians.

What if they were separating us for a reason? What if it was a trap?

The long, invisible tether that kept me connected to my wife was growing fainter by the second, and I wanted to turn around and find her.

Yuliya must have heard my slow steps because she turned, lifting a single angular brow at me.

“Tell me truthfully, Irish,” she said, looking at me with arctic blue eyes. “You know that your wife works for us. Have you truly forgiven her? Or will you deal with her as your father would have dealt with betrayal?”

My fists clenched at the insinuation.

“There is nothing to forgive. My wife is my wife , the mother of my child. If there is a wrong, it is everyone else who has transgressed. Not her.”

I stepped up to her, unnerved that she and I stood eye-to-eye. Not many could do that.

Yuliya Vasilieva had been a slip of a girl, all elbows and knees. Now she no more resembled her childhood self than Shiny did.

I’d pit Vasilieva against any man in a wrestling match. Her broad shoulders, her large hands, and her narrow, harsh features made her look efficiently lethal.

“I’ve had it up to here with the insinuation that I would ever harm my wife.” I pushed out the words, even as my jaw tensed. “Nothing could be further from the truth.”

She looked at me, her eyes narrowing just a fraction.

“And nothing would insult me more than the accusation that I would ever wilfully harm my Muse.” I stepped closer until we were nose to nose like two MMA fighters ready to start a match. “Does that clear things up between us, Vasilieva?”

“Do you treat her as a wife, or as a partner, Irish?” Yuliya asked, amusement twinkling in her eyes.

“What the hell kind of question is that?”

“A simple one.” She looked me up and down. “We live in a world where women are property. Accessories that are used and abused. So is that what she is to you?”

I couldn’t keep the disgust from my face. “She is my wife.”

It was taking everything inside me not to punch this woman in the throat.

“I treat Kira as the woman she is. I do not question her.” My arms tensed, ready for a fucking fight. “She is my wife . That word might mean nothing to the Bratva, but it means something to the Irish. It sure as hell means everything to me.”

And if tomorrow she ceases to be my wife, she will still be my Muse.

“Any more questions, Miss Vasilieva?” I could not keep the offense, and scorn from my words because I was damn tired of being doubted.

To my surprise, her face melted into a smile.

“No. I just had to be sure.” She slapped me playfully on the cheek.

She turned around and began walking again as if the interaction hadn’t happened at all.

“Keep up, Irish! Your wife is going to meet us there.”