Page 51 of The Bratva's Auctioned Bride

I can’t, for the life of me, figure out why I agreed to let her come.

Don’t lie to yourself, Diomid, you know exactly why. You wanted to see her again. And she has a right to be a part of this.

“You look tense,” she says, eyeing me from across the car.

“I am tense,” I huff.

“But you’re supposed to be used to this kind of operation. Aren’t you?”

“Yes, it’s just…”

I know exactly what it is. It’s her.

If she weren’t here, I wouldn’t even be thinking about it. I would just trust myself to handle whatever popped up as it popped up. Moving on, instincts and spontaneous decisions without hesitation. I can’t do that with Angel.

Things need to be planned, strict, careful… Otherwise, how will I make sure she stays safe while we throw her into the lion’s den?

“Let’s go over the plan one more time,” I suggest, hoping it will calm my racing thoughts. If I’m thinking about the plan, I’m not thinking about my mistake in bringing her with me.

She reaches over and touches my leg, sending a sharp current through me that blanks my thoughts for a second.

“Diomid, you haven’t made a mistake by letting me come with you. I’m going to help you on this one. We’ll work as a team,” she says, trying to reassure me.

“I don’t doubt your usefulness, Angel. I’ve already seen how levelheaded you are in a crisis, and how focused you can be in tense situations. You handled my operation cleanup really well, considering it was a messy job. It’s not that. It’s about keeping you safe,” I sigh, turning off the main road. We’re almost there.

“I promised I’d listen to you every step of the way. And I will. That’s what this is for,” she taps the earpiece that I gave her. Her smile is beautiful. My heart skips a beat when I steal a glance at her.

“Let’s go over the plan,” I insist. No matter how many times she tries to reassure me, this tense knot in my stomach isn’t going anywhere until this is all over.

I’ve never felt so focused on consequences in my life.

You need to trust her, Diomid. She can do this.

“Step one?” I say.

“You and I are going to get inside, using the back entrance. You’ll stay back to look at the offices and private areas, and I’ll sneak around the stage, into the main venue.”

“Step two?”

“I’ll pretend to be one of the hostess girls, offer drinks, blend in, and scout the place. You’ll scout the private areas.”

I clench my jaw. “And the purpose of this task?”

“Only to gather information and to plant listening devices. I am not there to help anyone I see or try to rescue any of the girls.”

“Correct,” I say. “No one.No matter how bad it looks in there, you hear me?”

“I hear you.”

“And if you get overwhelmed? Or have… flashbacks or something?”

“Get out.”

We can’t go over it again, because we’ve arrived.

My stomach knots tighter. “You ready?”

She’s already unbuckling her safety belt and checking her earpiece. She’s ready. More ready than I am.