Page 142 of Nine Months to Love

I pour myself coffee while Olivia grabs a pastry from the tray Mariolina left out.

“The car’s ready whenever you are,” Taras tells her. “Security detail is already in position.”

“Security detail?” Olivia asks.

“You think I’m letting you wander around Florence unprotected?” I scoff.

“I’ll be with Camille.”

“And six armed men who will shoot anyone who looks at you wrong.”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue. She’s getting used to my paranoia. Smart woman.

She kisses me goodbye at the door. “Don’t miss me too much.”

“Impossible.”

“I’ll be back before dinner.”

“Take your time. Buy whatever you want. Don’t look at the price tags.” I wag a warning finger in her face. “If you come back without at least three dresses, I’m going to be disappointed.”

She laughs. “Three?!”

“One for the wedding. One for the reception. One just because.”

One more kiss and she’s gone, climbing into the back of the SUV with three of the six Bratva soldiers who flew here for this security detail specifically. The other three are already scouting ahead.

I watch until the car disappears down the drive. When it’s gone, Taras claps me on the shoulder. “Congratulations, by the way, you miserable bastard.”

“Thanks.”

“Never thought I’d see the day Stefan Safonov got married.” He pauses, then asks, “What about Iakov, though?”

I tense. “What about him?”

“He’s still out there. Still feeding information to the feds. Still trying to take you down. Y’know, just in case you forgot.”

“I’m aware.”

“And you’re just going to get married and hope he doesn’t make a move?”

“I’m not hoping anything,” I counter. “I’m preparing for every possibility.”

“Including the possibility that he crashes your wedding?”

The thought makes my blood run cold. But I keep my face neutral. “He won’t get that far,” I growl.

“You sure about that?”

“Yes.”

Taras looks at me sidelong. “You actually like him, don’t you?”

I frown. “What?”

“Iakov. You respect him. The way he’s pulled back, built his own life. Part of you admires it.”

In a way, Taras is right. Iakov’s reclusive existence, his careful distance from the Bratva world—there’s something almost appealing about it. A quieter life. A safer one.