Page 13 of The Russian’s Forced Bride (Kamarov Bratva #2)

And then it hit me. In the report Matvey gave me about Arlette, it mentioned that her mother had died. A car crash was what the media reported, but the report claimed there was foul play involved. But since it didn’t concern the Bratva, no one ever bothered to look deeper into the case.

But I cared because it seemed to cut deeply into Arlette, and even though she never showed it, she was traumatized.

And I wasn’t going to let her end up like I did—broken and emotionally drained.

So I gently lifted her head until her tear-glossed eyes were staring deep into mine.

“I swear. I swear it, kroshka . I’d die before I let anything happen to you.” I brushed away the tears that were streaming down her face like waterworks, and then, unlike when I had madly kissed her before, I gently pressed my lips to hers—softly and seeking her permission.

She was tense at first, and I feared she would pull away from my touch, but then her lips pressed against mine, slowly yet willing.

I moved closer to her as our breaths mixed. It was intoxicating to hold her like this, our bodies pressed together. She was still crying, and I could taste the salt of her tears during our kiss.

And instead of being driven by lust like I had been at the cellar, I was driven by something else. Something I couldn’t quite grasp.

Her hands explored under my T-shirt, the warmth of her touch tracing my abs, and I suppressed a groan. I wanted more, but now wasn’t the time.

Not now, when she was broken inside.

So I gently pulled her hands away and broke our kiss, resting my forehead against hers so our breaths mingled.

Her eyes were innocent yet passionate.

“I promise.”

“You do?” she choked out, and I nodded, all the while caressing her cheeks.

“Till death do us part.”

Her eyes searched mine for a moment, as if she didn’t believe who was holding her, but then, with a sigh, she hugged me tight—taking me by surprise. Though the action felt foreign, I placed my hands behind her back and rubbed it soothingly until she fell asleep in my arms.

***

I was awoken by a tickling sensation on my nose. Whatever it was, it felt soft on my skin and smelled heavenly. A vanilla-like scent that worked like a charm on my senses. It made me calm and relaxed, and I hadn’t felt like that in a while.

Ginger hair resembling the blazing sun spread across my face, and I could feel my arms wrapped around a body pressed against mine.

We weren’t naked, but our bodies, molded together even with the obstruction of our clothes, felt more intimate.

Arlette Kamarov…Arlette… my Arlette.

I had never held a woman so tightly before in my arms. I had never craved one the way I craved Arlette.

She was mine. A drug I was already addicted to. A drug I couldn’t live without.

As my eyes roamed her delicate face, I knew then and at that moment that she would be the end of me.

Her eyes were still puffy from crying so much, and it made my jaw tighten just thinking about how scared and frightened she must have been to cry herself to sleep.

Not wanting to wake her, I gently removed my hands from her body. She shifted, a soft sigh of dissatisfaction escaping her lips, which made me smile.

Not a lopsided smile or a mischievous one, but a genuine smile.

She was beautiful. My Arlette was beautiful.

I wished I could have my arms around her forever, but I had work to do. I had to do everything in my power to keep her safe. I slipped off the bed, and after one last look at her sleeping form, I retreated to my room to take a shower and get ready for work.

I didn’t have the luxury of waiting for the timeframe Oskar gave me. I had to act quickly. I needed to find Joaquin, shut down his nonsense, and figure out how to make him come out of hiding.

A gunshot to his head wasn’t going to do the trick for the bastard. He had to be killed slowly, the life snuffed out of him.

My office in Chicago was a far cry from the one back in New York. Since I was primarily based in New York, I hardly ever came over to the Chicago base—not until now.

I arrived an hour after leaving the house and asked Maxim to meet me at the office.

Cassandra had flown in too; since she was my personal assistant, she had to follow me everywhere.

She’d gotten her own place in Chicago and settled in fast.

Just as I was about to settle in, a knock sounded on my office door before Cassandra entered, holding a cup of coffee.

Her heels echoed through the empty office as she glanced around, and I could tell she was already thinking about renovations.

She placed the coffee on my desk while I took a seat.

“You look well rested.” She smiled, raising a brow. “And unsatisfied. Imagine my surprise when Maxim said we had to come into work. I thought you were still on your honeymoon.”

Cassandra had been shocked to find that I was getting married out of the blue, but she quickly understood why and didn’t bother asking me any questions.

I scoffed at her words. “You and I both know I can’t spend a week doing nothing. The bastard who killed Jaxon Whitmore is still running the streets. The sooner we force his hand out of hiding, the better….”

Cassandra nodded in agreement, pulling out her iPad from her shoulder bag.

“Well, I’m glad you’re in the mood to work because Maxim has some intel, and it might just be useful.”

And just as she spoke, another gentle knock sounded on the door to my office before it swung open, revealing Maxim.

“Sorry to barge in, Boss, but I’ve got some news,” he stated, shutting the door behind him.

Cassandra gave me a look that indicated whatever Maxim was about to say was important, and it made me sit up straight, alert for any information—anything I could find about Joaquin.

“I was at the Kamarov mansion just a day after your wedding,” Maxim said, running a hand through his dark hair.

He seemed exhausted as he nodded a greeting to Cassandra before taking a seat across from me.

“Apparently, Matvey was able to track down one of Joaquin’s goons. He’s not so important, and he refused to talk until Matvey ordered for his fingers to be cut off.”

I nodded, unbothered by the imagery. I had done worse to get people to talk.

“Get straight to the point, Maxim.”

“Right! So while half-dead, Joaquin’s underling confessed that Joaquin’s strategy was to weaken the flow of Bratva’s income using his connections.”

I raised a brow. How?

Maxim then began using his hands to explain. “Joaquin isn’t invincible because he has muscle. He’s invincible because he has intel. He has people everywhere, Rafael, and that’s what makes it look like he’s always one step ahead. He even knows that we know he was behind Jaxon Whitmore’s death.”

My brows furrowed.

How was Joaquin getting his information?

It had to be an insider. But who?

I shook my head. Before discovering who the rat was, I had to set up systems to protect the Bratva’s endless income. I couldn’t let Joaquin find even a crack to use as leverage against us.

“Check all laundromats and cash flow pipelines. If there are any leaks at all, I want them sealed and protected.”

I ran a hand through my hair as I gave the orders to both Maxim and Cassandra.

Fuck .

Looking at them, I couldn’t tell if they were completely on my side. Knowing that Joaquin had an insider within the Bratva and around me made my skin crawl.

This war isn’t over yet.

It was only just starting, and I was going to fight it to the bitter end—and until Joaquin was dead.