Page 21 of The Bratva’s Innocent Sold Bride (Fokin Bratva #9)

God, CJ was beautiful when she was angry, but so damn frustrating.

I had spent all afternoon counting the minutes until I could see her again, and we’d spent an enjoyable hour going over everyone on my list. Now it had wound up back at the same tired argument, and she didn’t look like she would back down this time.

How could I make her see it wasn’t a matter of trust but of safety?

Without telling her about Anatoli Ovinko and the level of trouble he was causing me, there was no way she could understand.

And there was no way I was speaking his name around her.

She had lived her whole life never knowing the level of her father’s shady activities, and she innocently believed the worst thing someone could get up to was cheating or embezzling.

I was going to keep her far away from what I did and the people who wanted to destroy everything I cared about.

“Why the secrecy?” she asked. “Everyone knows we’re married. What’s keeping you from just telling me why you really want to go to this gala?”

She seemed to know me on a deeper level than I might have guessed.

The look on her face told me she wasn’t going to believe I only wanted to rub elbows with the rich and powerful.

I could have met them in another way, and it was true I never normally gave a toss about frivolous parties, but I’d been tipped off that Anatoli himself might make an appearance, having wormed his way into the city’s elite.

How he managed to do that and still remain anonymous to me was really pissing me off.

There was no way I could make CJ understand without the risk of putting her in danger. All I wanted to do was lay eyes on the man, and if he was actually there, we’d be leaving immediately.

I needed her in a good mood for this party. Obviously, none of her longtime acquaintances knew that I took her as payment for her father’s debt. They thought we were one of their own, only hiding out from society because we were in the throes of new love.

I forced myself to put on a calm front, though I was anything but calm.

I hated seeing her upset more than I hated not being able to give her everything she wanted.

She seemed to like the dress I chose for her, and as much as she griped about how awful everyone would be at the ball, I had a feeling it was a cover.

She wanted a night out, away from the house she considered a prison, much to my dismay.

Were we really on new ground after last night, or was this misunderstanding going to tear us apart again? I gently laid my hands on her shoulders and tugged her closer.

“The only reason I want to go is the one I gave you. I wanted an in with these people.”

“Now you’ve got it,” she said, staying stiff in my arms.

“And I wanted to show off how beautiful you’re going to look in that dress.”

Glancing at the dress, draped over the back of the couch, she sighed, as if considering her options. I decided to play a long shot and take them away from her.

“If you really don’t want to go, I can give some excuse that you suddenly didn’t feel well.” Taking out my phone, I pretended to tap out a message. “I’m sure Masha would jump at the chance to go.”

It was a good thing she hadn’t been able to get to know my cousin very well yet, because she would have known that Masha would have rather taken a knife to the kidneys than put on a long gown and have to act civilized for several hours. She’d be much happier staking out the joint in the car.

As I suspected, CJ bristled. “So, you just used me for the invitation, and now you’re casting me aside.”

I pulled her close again, ignoring her ramrod spine. “Can’t I want a night out with my wife?” Tipping her chin so she had to look at me, I searched her stormy eyes. “Can you believe that much at least?”

Yes, there were other reasons, but I wanted to go with her, show her off, see her enjoy herself.

She must have finally believed me because she relaxed, and the furious tempest brewing in her eyes faded.

In a moment, she was grabbing up the garment bag and the bag with her shoes and new jewels to match the dress.

“Pray for a miracle,” she said. “There’s hardly time left to get ready.”

She wore jeans and a t-shirt, covered in dog hair, not a stitch of makeup on, and her hair was in its regular ponytail, sliding down her back in a pin-straight waterfall I longed to run my fingers through. “You could go like you are now and still be the prettiest woman there.”

The scowl returned, and she shook her head. “And here I was starting to believe you.”

Before I could definitively tell her I was telling the truth about that statement, she hurried from the room.

Well, we were both getting what we wanted, but the atmosphere wasn’t the same as when we were shoulder to shoulder, poring over my tablet.

For a glorious half hour or so, we had been a team, and I liked it.

Liked it so much that it might be clouding my judgment.

There was no time to worry about it, because I had my own miracle to work. Infiltrate this part of California, I meant to make my own, and find the man who’d been making my life hell since I arrived here.

And get CJ to smile again, and mean it.