Page 27 of The Bratva’s Arranged Virgin Bride (Fokin Bratva #8)

He left again. Not just without an explanation, but while I was still reeling from his kiss.

It was probably for the best since I would have ended up in bed with him if he hadn’t left in such a hurry.

I was still pissed off about the fight earlier, and that was the last thing I needed to do.

Didn’t matter if I wanted to or not. He broke my cousin’s nose, and there I was, melting in his arms. At that moment, I did not have the upper hand, nowhere near it.

But why did I still wish he hadn’t run off like that?

Forcefully ignoring the fact that the slightest touch from Kolya could snuff out my fury like it was no stronger than a birthday candle, I got myself together. It was time to spy.

While I was pouting in the car on the way home, I had dropped the cell phone that Mat got for me.

It was exactly like mine, so if Kolya saw it, he’d just think I had lost it.

He might even put it in his pocket to remember to give it to me, which would also work out in my favor.

This new phone had a tracking device, so I could keep tabs on him and not have to race out the door after him to follow him.

Since I already suspected that he suspected me, this way greatly reduced my risk of getting caught.

Mat had agreed to it because he didn’t like the idea of me physically following Kolya, and I had led him to believe I would only use the tracker to report back where he was going. No reason to check it out for myself.

Except there were plenty of reasons, actually only one big one. My revenge. Knowledge was power if I was going to wiggle my way into his heart and explode it from the inside.

Once I had the tracker up and running on my real phone, I set out after him at a leisurely pace, even rolling through a drive-through for a milkshake on my way. This was much better than having to weave through traffic and duck down whenever he glanced in his rearview mirror.

His destination turned out to be a swanky shopping center I had never been to before, all closed up for the night.

I did a circle, spotting his car parked at the back of one of the shops.

From the front, I saw that it was the only space that wasn’t occupied yet, and there were heavy curtains covering the windows.

Finally, parking under a tree at the far end of the lot, I crept over to the shop, feeling exposed as I stood on the well-lit walkway.

The lights were also on inside, glowing from beneath the curtain panels.

Pressing my ear to the glass, I definitely heard Kolya’s voice, but couldn’t make out what he was saying.

Then there was another voice, and it sounded like they might have been arguing.

Was it Arkadi? I couldn’t tell for sure, the sounds were too muffled by the glass and heavy curtains.

A wedge of light glowed from the edge of one window, and I scurried over to peek through a space where the curtains didn’t quite meet.

All I could see was a busted-up bench, tipped over on its side.

Was Kolya in trouble? Or was he the one causing trouble? I waited, barely breathing, but even though there were moments of raised voices, there was no crashing or shooting. It seemed like whoever was in there was working.

So what was this place? A new business? If it was legit, why wouldn’t he share it with me?

He was so proud of his club, he couldn’t shut up about it.

This had to be something he didn’t want me to know about.

A center of operations to make plans against my family?

I strained to hear better, to see if I could make out whether the man he was arguing with was his brother.

Still unsure, I tiptoed around back to see if he left the door unlocked. If I were careful, I could get in, see who was with him, and get out before he was any wiser. Maybe it would be useful to me to know, or I could throw my uncles a bone and give them a report.

Of course, it was locked, but I’d spent enough time growing up around other kids in the Bratva to know how to pick a lock. That was mafia kid 101, and even my father couldn’t keep me from such useful knowledge.

A couple of minutes later, I almost had it.

Then the door slammed open, sending me tumbling back.

Kolya’s fist was raised, teeth bared like a wild beast, coming within a hair’s width of putting me in a coma.

He somehow stopped the force of his swing and reached for me before I could fall on my ass for the second time that day.

Keeping a tight grip on my arms, he swore quietly in Russian, mixed with a harried apology for almost knocking me out.

“I’m okay,” I said, keeping my voice low since he was.

“No, you’re not,” he hissed. “Go home. I’ll explain everything later.”

And give him the chance to think up some lies?

I didn’t think so, and shoved past him into the shop.

The back was pretty empty, just a hallway with a closed door on one wall and a storage area that led to the front.

I headed that way, bursting into the middle of an art gallery that looked like it had been hit by its own little hurricane or had been robbed.

An art gallery? My heart twinged, and my breath hitched in my chest. Was this a surprise for me?

As I turned to take it all in, I came face to face with a man I didn’t recognize.

He was about Kolya’s age, maybe older. He looked like he might have been handsome once, but had been around the block a few too many times carrying a heavy load.

I turned to Kolya, who’d followed on my heels, and he only shook his head.

“Who’s this?” the stranger asked, leering at me in a way that had my skin crawling.

Kolya stepped in front of me before I could answer, shoving me back a few steps.

“This is Linda,” he said, tripping over the made-up name a little.

“She works for me.” He turned and gave me a hard look.

“I sent her a message saying we needed an emergency clean-up crew, but I guess you took it to mean you should come right away? Morning would have been fine, Linda.”

Too confused to suss out why he was making up identities for me, I surveyed what was left of the artwork.

The remaining paintings hung haphazardly or lay on the floor, and none of it was anything I would have chosen, though it was all good.

If this place was a surprise for me, why wouldn’t he have let me choose the art?

It all clicked. He was still a con man, same as always.

He was setting up another scam and, this time, leaving me out of it.

I didn’t know why that stung, but it did.

Badly. I had no idea who his new partner was, and I didn’t care, but I was pissed enough that I wasn’t about to be dismissed so easily.

The man kept looking at me suspiciously, then picked up a broom. “Don’t be ridiculous, Kolya. We need the help, and she’s here now, aren’t you, Linda?”

Handing the broom to me, he got way too close, practically drooling on my neck.

Kolya snarled and stepped between us, shoving him away so hard he almost hit the wall ten feet away. Instead of being incensed by this sudden attack, the man found it funny.

“I knew she was no cleaning woman,” he crowed. “Now, who are you really, little one?”

Yuck. I got that this guy must be dangerous, and shrugged as I began sweeping. “I’m Linda. I work for Mr. Mikhailov.” Double yuck, but I gave Kolya a subservient look as he scowled at me not to involve myself. Too late. “I don’t mind helping out with the cleaning, it’s honest work.”

The man got too close again, moving fast. “Ah, but dishonest work pays so much more and could be more fun for both of us. What do you think?”

This earned him a punch from Kolya, and I wasn’t sorry to see it.

Within seconds, there was a full-on brawl happening before me, making a worse mess of the place.

I waited for a chance, and as soon as I had a clean shot, I nailed the guy over the head with the broom.

It gave Kolya a chance to sweep his legs out from under him and send him flat on his back on the floor.

Standing over him, Kolya put his foot on his chest, pinning him in place like a bug in a museum display.

To my surprise, instead of finishing him, Kolya leaned over and helped him to his feet. And then apologized. Not very sincerely, but still.

“You’ve got to go,” he said, marching him to the back and shoving him out.

I heard him shout that Kolya would regret this before the door slammed shut with a clang of metal. When he joined me in the main part of the gallery again, he didn’t seem too worried.

Except for me. He gave me a small shake. “You were foolish to follow me. I’m going to pay for what I just did. I might have to give this place up to appease him now.”

Kolya Mikhailov gave up something he cared about to appease someone he despised? I never saw him like this. He was obsessed with money, and I had been too when we were working together in Milan. It was obvious he couldn’t stand that man, so why would he give in so easily?

“Who is he?” I asked. “What was that all about? What is this all about?” I swept my hand around the carnage. “And why am I Linda all of a sudden?”

He smiled wearily at my barrage of questions. “His name is Visarrion Koltlov, and I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

As much as I didn’t care for his imperious tone, I wasn’t eager to be near the man again, either.

Kolya remained tight-lipped about my other questions, so I looked around the gallery, what was left of it.

There was potential here. It was a great location, fantastic, really, and though the art wasn’t particularly to my taste, on closer inspection, it was really good.

“Is this the same deal?” I asked, all but daring him to lie to my face.

“Yes,” he sighed. “I was supposed to have the first show next week, but it doesn’t seem likely.

Especially since Visarrion won’t cool off enough to help me get it back in order.

” He sighed again, looking around the wreckage and shaking his head.

“My manager ran out on me, too,” he continued, laying it on thick.

“I can’t seem to make a good display to save my life. ”

It was easy to see he was trying to work me up, but he didn’t need to. “You have a new manager, as of now,” I said. “Her name is Linda. Uh, what’s my last name, by the way?”

He shook his head. Was he really not trying to entice me to join him again?

“No way. You’re not part of this. Not this time. I’ll just hand over the reins to Visarrion and get rid of him another way.”

“I don’t need to know anything about that,” I told him, honestly not interested.

I already had my phone out, looking up my old friend who was now working for an antiques dealer. She could either get those benches fixed or replaced. Glancing up, I shook my head. “The lighting fixtures are all wrong. Too garish and bright. Don’t worry, I know a guy who works fast.”

“I’m sure you do,” he said, his frown causing deep lines between his brows. “But I already said you’re not part of this.”

“Mmhmm,” I said. “I’ll need to speak with the artists, too. They’ll need proper encouragement if we’re going to have these walls filled in less than a week.”

My anger was on the back burner, and it felt good.

I was in my element and raring to show off what I did best. That brief time in Milan might have led up to my darkest hour, but it had also been the most exhilarating time of my life.

And maybe, just maybe, I could find something useful to my family at the same time. Either way, I was in.

He sputtered, incredulous that I dared to defy him.

I stood with my feet planted between the broken benches and a pile of slashed paintings.

“I’m part of this,” I said. “Try to stop me. You’ll fail without my help, and that will eat at you because you hate failing even more than you hate giving up what’s yours to your enemies. ”

His jaw actually dropped. His eyes were dark and stormy, his jaw set. I should have been scared. I wasn’t. He was sexier than I ever thought possible. He glared at me for what seemed like forever, then he laughed.

“You actually want to help me?” he asked, raking his fingers through his hair until it stood on end.

“I already said there was no way you could stop me.” I held out my hand to seal the deal.

He grabbed it, but instead of shaking, he yanked me close, kissing me soundly and stealing my breath.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on as his tongue nudged its way between my lips.

His body was rock hard and hot against mine, his fingertips like fire as he ran them down my backside.

Within seconds, he was tugging my skirt up.

In moments, he’d be pressing those magic hands against my bare skin.

I was already losing my wits, about to lose myself all over again, just to feel his touch. About to lose sight of my plan as well as that wonderful moment of regaining the upper hand.

With a harsh gasp, I pushed away, stumbling back until I could no longer feel the heat radiating off of him. Looking around, I grabbed the broom and brandished it like a shield.

“We need to get to work,” I told him, not a hint of wavering in my tone as I started to sweep. “See if any of those frames are worth salvaging.”

And to my utter shock and very slight disappointment, he did exactly what I said.