Page 10

Well, this was awkward. How was I supposed to tell my kidnapped bride that she had just married into a powerful crime family? And then convince her that she had nothing to fear from my particular crime family, just Arkadi’s. I had never been more than a little annoyed at the fact the restaurant employees freely talked amongst themselves. I could trust them since most of them were part of the organization in some way or another, and the rest understood the ramifications of going against me. Now, I was more annoyed that nobody had managed to fill Emerson in yet.

She blinked at me with emerald eyes, full of sudden fear that turned my stomach. “Do you know what the word Bratva means?” I asked, pulling away to give her some space.

“Is it another Russian dumpling?” She was trying to make a feeble joke and I laughed, appreciating her courage despite being paler than I’d ever seen her.

“It means brotherhood in my father’s native language. I barely get by in Russian myself. But it’s also a word for our organization.”

“Organization,” she repeated, smiling with relief. “Like a corporation.”

“More like a family business. And there’s a reason the police won’t jump to get involved with keeping Arkadi away from you.” I let it sink in, and her smile faded.

“You’re criminals, too.”

“We operate outside the law,” I confirmed. “We have enemies. Arkadi’s just one of them, and he happens to be a psycho wildcard we’ve barely kept in line for a lot of years.”

“And now he thinks I’m a good way to get under your skin,” she said.

I nodded vigorously at how astute she was. “Don’t underestimate him. That would be the most dangerous mistake you or I, or anyone in my family, could make.”

No, this was the palest I’d ever seen her. Emerson shriveled into the big seat, looking like a lost and forlorn child. I longed to pull her into my arms, but she straightened up, her eyes flashing at me.

“But you’re dangerous, too,” she snapped. “Do you kill people?”

“If I have to.”

“So you have before.”

I remained silent, and she withered again. “What about Ivan? And Daria?”

“My brother is part of it.” I paused, abruptly cutting off a humorless laugh that Emerson could never understand. “You don’t want to know who Daria’s related to. Don’t worry about him, though. He’s… gone.”

She whimpered, and I shut up on that subject before she passed out. I briefly outlined what my family did, naming off a few of my legit businesses other than Khoroshiy, hoping to see some recognition in her eyes. If she was impressed, she hid it well. My small town, innocent beauty might actually not have cared about all the power I held.

She asked me a few more, rapid-fire questions. Hard questions that I answered without flinching. She was doing enough flinching for the both of us.

“The only people who need to fear me are people who aren’t on my side,” I told her. Shit, that sounded like a threat, but I wasn’t exactly used to being tender. I reached to steady her as she swayed to the side. “The most important thing— the only thing you need to understand, is that I will protect you.”

This promise didn’t erase the horror written all over her face, and I offered her a glass of wine or maybe a shot of bourbon to soothe her shattered nerves. She declined, looking at me like I might poison her. Moving slowly, as if avoiding a coiled snake, she crossed the aisle and curled up in a ball on the couch, her back to me.

I longed to reach over and stroke her arm, but only watched her slight trembling until she slowly seemed to relax. Her side rose and fell in a more steady cadence and when I peeked over her tightly curled body, her hands hung loose in front of her. Her eyes were shut, her lush lips slightly parted in sleep.

I could use some of that as well, but first, I called Mila, who had begged me to keep her updated. Moving to the back of the plane so I wouldn’t wake Emerson, I tucked myself onto the other couch and stared at the ceiling as I waited for an answer.

“Don’t even ask where I’m heading,” I said after Mila’s greeting.

There was a moment of silence, confirming that was what she’d been waiting to get out.

“I can tell you’re on the plane,” she said. “I hear the engine. You know I won’t tell anyone. Where are you going?”

“Can you get some things ready for when we get back?” I asked, ignoring her question.

Realizing she wasn’t going to wear me down, she immediately offered to help however she could. I asked her if she could oversee getting half of my closet set up with all the remaining clothes she’d so kindly brought over for my new bride.

“I’ll do it myself,” she said eagerly. “I think I can handle looking over all my beautiful babies without bursting into tears by now.”

“You could have another boutique tomorrow if you just said the word to Aleks,” I reminded her. “Or me, for that matter.”

She sighed. “I know. And you know I’m not doing that. I wanted to try to go legit on my own and it flopped. I’m not the first person in the world who failed at a business.”

“That may be true, but it’s not the end of the road, either,” I scolded. We both knew she’d been spending the last few months wallowing and feeling sorry for herself. That wasn’t like my lion-hearted sister; if she didn’t realize it soon, I’d have to forcefully remind her.

“How’s your fist?” I asked, when she remained silent too long.

I could almost hear her grin as she gleefully reminisced about our fight the other day. “Not as bad as that one guy’s nose,” she laughed. “The look on his face when a girl took him out was priceless.”

That was the real Mila, ready to wholeheartedly throw herself into a project. She just needed something to focus on other than her perceived failure. “You should ask Ivan to put you on his security detail,” I joked.

Wrong move. Her laughter cut off, and her voice was glum as she answered. “You know he’d never give me something to do that wasn’t safely tucked away in an office. You’re the only one who seems to know I can hold my own.”

Hmphh. I may have created a monster, letting her go along with me for one little fight. Like my other brothers, I balked at the idea of her getting into any real danger, but I was also well aware she’d been raised the same way as us boys.

“Listen,” I said, coming up with another plan that would get her out of her house and into the real world again without too much danger. “My accountant is taking an extended vacation. You’ve always been good at numbers. Why don’t you fill in for him?”

“Now you’re pitying me,” she instantly accused. “As if I can’t get a job on my own.”

“Fucking hell, Mila,” I snapped back. “If you don’t want to help me, just say so.”

“You’re not just coddling me like everyone else?”

If I was, who cared? She didn’t have to know about it. That was what big brothers were for, after all. “Just think about it and let me know, because I need someone in there by next week.”

After a little more subtle prodding, she agreed and ended the call with a much happier tone. Hopefully, being around other people and focusing on a difficult task would get her out of her rut and make her stop being so damn down on herself. It was getting annoying.

I fell asleep until the wheels touching down on solid ground again woke me, and I sat up to find Emerson awake and stretching her lithe arms over her head. The t-shirt she’d changed into rose just enough for me to catch a glimpse of creamy skin at her waist, and my mouth began to water.

We were on our honeymoon. Visions of Emerson in one of the slinky outfits I’d thrown into her suitcase danced in my head. I wanted to get this show on the road, but we were at a standstill.

Despite everyone dragging their feet in LA, my pilot had made the time up in the sky and arrived ahead of schedule. Now, we had to wait around for the people who were going to help get Emerson into the country without any documentation. Her purse with her driver’s license and phone was locked away in my office at home, but there wasn’t a place on earth I couldn’t buy my way into if necessary.

We landed several hundred yards from the welcome center, and I figured it would be more comfortable to wait in the plane, so I suggested Emerson head back up.

“Can you get us some coffee?” I asked Roman, who doubled as a bodyguard when he wasn’t flying the plane. “See if they have any food that’s not from a machine, too.”

Since I’d ordered the jet ready at such short notice, there had only been sandwiches and a few drink selections on board. Someone had forgotten to stock the coffee maker, and knowing how attached to the stuff Emerson was, heads were going to roll for that.

“Sure thing,” my faithful pilot said, heading toward the welcome center.

I turned back to help Emerson up the stairs, only to realize she was barreling down the tarmac, already a hundred yards away.