Page 12 of Plus-Size Bratva Possession (Vadim Bratva #12)

I was sitting in the salon chair with my eyes closed, feeling blissful for the first time in days.

“Ah, I’ve reached heaven,” I moaned as the masseuse dug into my scalp, giving me a head massage before I got my wash and blowout. It had been three days since Gastone caught me at the café, and since then, he followed through on his promise.

The rules were simple. I had to inform him when I stepped out and let him know where I was going. I tested it out yesterday when I stepped out to buy some books, and to my surprise, he insisted I take the car.

This morning, however, I said I’d prefer to walk, and he didn’t even flinch. He simply told me to have a good day and left for work while I ate breakfast. I had my whole morning planned out. A day at the salon was just what I needed.

After the massage and wash, I made my way to the hairdresser’s chair.

“Just a little trim, honey?” the stylist asked, her fingers running through my hair with practiced ease.

“Oh, why not?” I grinned. I hadn’t planned on a trim, but might as well. I could now, I thought to myself gleefully. I had the freedom to do what I wanted. At last.

For a second, I felt grateful to Gastone. But just as quick, shut that thought down. I wondered if I was going crazy being grateful for basic human privileges from the man who'd kidnapped me. He might have listened, but that didn’t mean he was good.

Wanting to exercise my freedom a little more, I looked at the hairdresser in the mirror. “Do you think you could give me some layers?” I asked sweetly.

“Oh darling,” she gushed. “To frame that pretty face, I know just what to deliver.”

***

Once I paid the bill, I stepped out into broad daylight, and that’s when I caught sight of him from the corner of my eye. Dom. He tried to turn around, but I’d recognize that hulk of a man anywhere.

I watched as he tried to walk away, ever so slowly, so slowly in fact that I knew he was waiting to turn back and follow when the scene was clear. Even if he tried, he couldn’t blend in with that Italian suit he wore on such a hot day.

Shaking my head, I walked right up to him.

“Doooomm,” I sang, catching up and tapping his shoulder. He stopped and turned, giving me a rather woeful look.

“Having a day out?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow in his direction. What was I thinking? Of course, Gastone had me followed. Of course, he didn’t tell me because he thought I’d have put up a fight or something.

Which I would have. A hundred percent. But still, a heads-up would have been nice.

“Something like that, Miss. Elena,” Dom said, shuffling on my feet.

I crossed my arms in front of me and glared at him. “You’re following me, aren’t you?”

“I was just—”

“Don’t lie to me,” I said, feeling an excuse coming my way.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “Mr. Ajello worries for you.”

Where I expected to find anger, I only felt acceptance. This was all so new, giving me this little piece of freedom, and despite what I told Gastone about being in no danger, he had his own demons to fight. So, I let it slide.

I sighed as I levelled a look at Dom, letting him know exactly who was in charge here. “I’m going to pick out some shampoo now. You might as well walk with me.”

He nodded and looked utterly relieved that I hadn’t argued much. Silently, he fell into step.

But something about his behaviour caught my attention. He kept checking his phone, his face furrowed with concern. I'd never seen Dom distracted before—the man was like a machine, always focused.

“Everything okay?” I asked, as we walked into the convenience store.

“Just some trouble at the office,” he grunted, still on his phone.

My ears perked up immediately.

Trouble at the office meant something interesting might be happening with Gastone. Something I could learn about. But Dom said no more.

I'd tried to find information about Gastone’s business operations in the penthouse and come up empty. But if I could get to his workplace…

As I paid for my shampoo and some last-minute additions, I watched Dom subtly again. He was typing furiously on his phone now, his expression grim.

Definitely something was up.

After paying, I turned to face him.

“I want to buy a new pillow,” I told him with a bright smile. “The ones at Gastone’s aren’t…right.”

It was a lie. But I had a plan.

This was my chance to see what my “husband” actually did during the day. In all our time together, he never talked about his work—just disappeared each morning and returned each evening. It didn’t help me get any closer to finding leverage.

He nodded, putting his phone away. “The place two doors down is good.”

“Actually,” I said, lowering my voice conspiratorially, “I know a much better place. It's a bit of a drive, though.”

Dom frowned and looked clearly distracted, clutching his phone again, clearly torn between two responsibilities.

“Trust me, this place is amazing,” I leaned in, as if sharing a secret. “It's where all the hotels buy their pillows.”

His frown deepened. “I don't think—”

“Please, Dom?” I widened my eyes, channeling every ounce of charm I possessed. “It would mean so much to me. And I promise we'll go straight there and back. It’ll be a really quick trip. I’m exhausted, anyway.”

Dom's expression shifted slightly. I could tell he had no reason to deny me. That he felt I’d been such a sport about discovering him, and was being so very civil, that saying no would seem unkind.

“Where is this place?” he finally asked.

“Downtown,” I said, vague on purpose. “I can direct you.”

He sighed. “Fine. But we go straight there, buy your pillow, and head home.”

I smiled brightly. “Perfect.”

In the car, I directed Dom through Manhattan, deliberately taking a roundabout route. I knew exactly where Gastone's main office building was—I'd read it on some correspondence when I was spying in his office.

When we were getting close, I feigned confusion. “I think we need to turn here... no, wait. I'm all turned around.”

Dom's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “Ms. Lebedev—”

“Mrs. Ajello,” I corrected with false sweetness, just to set the board for what I had planned.

He exhaled sharply. “Mrs. Ajello. Do you actually know where this store is?”

“Of course I do. It's just been a while.” I peered out the window, pretending to get my bearings. “Oh! I know where we are now. It's just down this street and to the right.”

As we turned the corner, the sleek glass tower of an important-looking office building, that had to be Gastone’s, came into view. My heart quickened. I'd done it.

“Actually, isn't this where Gastone works?” I asked innocently, as if just noticing. “Maybe we should stop in and say hello first.”

Dom's eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What about your pillow?”

I dropped the act. “Look, I've been stuck in that penthouse for weeks. I'm curious about what he does all day. Can you blame me?”

“Mr. Ajello is in meetings today. Important ones.”

“Even better,” I said. “I'll be quick. Just a peek around, maybe surprise him for a minute. It'll be fun. Besides, you can deal with whatever’s on your radar.”

Dom looked like he wanted to argue, but his phone buzzed again. Whatever crisis was brewing seemed to be escalating. He checked the message, then cursed under his breath.

“Okay, fifteen minutes,” he said sternly. “Mr. Carlo needs me for something, and then we leave.”

“Excellent,” I said, rubbing my hands with delight. Pure, unadulterated thrill passed down my spine. I’d done it. I’d found a way into Gastone’s office.

Dom parked in the underground garage and escorted me into the building, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

The lobby was modern and massive beyond belief. I saw a plaque for Ajello Industries behind the reception, and made a mental note to Google what I could about it later. The receptionist recognized Dom immediately and waved us through without question.

In the elevator, Dom pressed the button for the top floor.

“Meet me in the lobby in fifteen,” Dom reminded me as the doors slid open.

***

Through trial and error, I found my way to Gastone’s office across the hushed floor. A few people gave me curious looks, but none stopped me. I recalled Dom had an access key for this floor, which meant if I was here, I belonged.

At last, I saw the door to Gastone’s office, his name in gold right on it. I entered without knocking, eager to catch Gastone off guard for once.

I stepped into the office and froze.

Gastone was on the phone and in the midst of removing his suit jacket, and I watched as that crisp white shirt stretched taut across his chest. For some reason, the sight of it made my mouth go dry.

I’d seen Gastone shirtless, that one time in the kitchen. But something about him in this large, fancy office, removing his suit to give a glimpse of that perfectly sculpted body beneath that shirt, hit me differently. He looked powerful and commanding, like the boss he was.

Heat pooled low in my belly, and I suddenly found it hard to breathe.

Gastone looked up when he heard the sound of the door, and his eyes widened fractionally when he saw me. Without breaking his conversation, he held up one finger, a silent command to wait, and turned back to the windows.

I stood there, transfixed, as he continued his call, unable to focus on a word he was saying.

I could see the muscles in his back shift beneath his shirt as he ran a hand through his blond hair, leaving it slightly mussed, before proceeding to roll up the sleeves over his arms, his head cocked to keep the phone in place.

God, what was wrong with me? This was Gastone—the man who forced me into marriage and kept me locked away from my family.

I shouldn't be noticing how his forearms looked, his sleeves rolled up, veins visible beneath tattooed skin.

I shouldn't be wondering how those large hands would feel on my body.

But I was.

My body betrayed me, responding to him with a rush of desire so intense it was almost painful. My nipples tightened against my bra, and I felt a telltale dampness between my thighs. I crossed my arms over my chest self-consciously, horrified at my reaction.

It's just because he's the only man you've been around for weeks, I told myself desperately. You're touch-starved. It doesn't mean anything.

Gastone finally hung up, then turned to face me fully. His eyes, that impossible shade of green, swept over me from head to toe, taking in my new haircut, my flushed cheeks.

“Elena,” he said in a tone that hinted I was trouble. “This is... unexpected.”

I cleared my throat, trying to regain my composure. “I was in the neighborhood. Thought I'd stop by.”

His lips quirked in that almost-smile that always made my heart skip. “In the neighborhood?” He looked past me, and I knew what he was thinking.

“Yes. I know Dom followed me. He brought me here.”

“I’ll-” he began, frowning.

“I forced him to,” I insisted, hoping he wouldn’t get into trouble.

Gastone huffed like he didn’t know what to do with me and gave me a nod, letting me in. I entered and closed the door behind me.

The office suddenly felt much smaller, with just the two of us.

“So,” Gastone leaned against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. “You've developed a stalking habit?”

I scoffed, grateful for the return to our usual banter. This I could handle. “Please. If anyone's the stalker here, it's you. Making poor Dom follow me around all day.”

“That's for your safety.”

“Is it? Or is it so I don't run away from my captivating husband?” I emphasized the word with enough sarcasm to make my position clear.

He smiled then, a real one that transformed his face and made my heart do a stupid little flip. “Captivating, am I?”

“I meant captor,” I said quickly, though we both knew I hadn't misspoken.

“Right.” He pushed off from the desk and walked toward me, closing the distance between us. “And yet, here you are, in my office. By choice.”

I stood my ground even as my pulse quickened. “I was curious. Sue me.”

“About?” He was close enough now that I could smell his cologne, something woodsy that made me want to lean in closer.

“What you do all day. This place.” I gestured around the office. “The mysterious Gastone Ajello, mafia don by night, businessman by day.”

“Import-export,” he said simply.

“Right. And I'm sure it's all perfectly legal.”

His smile turned predatory. “Absolutely. Would you like a tour?”

The thought of spending more time with him, watching him in this environment where he was clearly in his element, sent another wave of heat through me. I needed to get out of here before I did something stupid.

“I should probably go,” I said, taking a small step back. “I… I don’t want to keep you from working.”

Gastone raised an eyebrow. “You came here on an impulse, didn’t you?”

Busted. “Yes.”

“You manipulated Dom to bring you here.”

“I asked nicely,” I corrected, taking this bait to seek out some information. “Besides, he was distracted. Something happening that I should know about?”

“Nothing that concerns you.” His eyes searched my face. “You cut your hair.”

The sudden change of subject threw me. “Just a trim.”

“It suits you.” His gaze lingered on my face, and for a wild moment, I thought he might reach out and touch me.

I swallowed hard. “Thanks.”

The air between us felt charged, heavy. I needed to break this spell before I lost what little self-control I had left.

“Well, I should really get going,” I said, taking another step toward the door. “Let you get back to your very important business calls.”

“Elena,” he said, my name almost a sigh on his lips.

I paused, hand on the doorknob, not trusting myself to look back at him. “Yes?”

“Next time you want to see where I work, just ask. I'd be happy to show you around.”

There was an invitation in his voice, a genuine kind, that made me turn back to him.

“Where's the fun in that?” I asked, trying for lightness but hearing the breathiness in my own voice.

His eyes darkened. “Oh, I can think of plenty of ways to make it fun.”

The innuendo hung between us, and my body flushed hot all over again. This was dangerous territory.

“I'll keep that in mind,” I managed, and slipped out the door before I could do something truly reckless—like cross the room and find out if his lips tasted as good as they looked.