AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Warmth fills my heart. At least someone remembers me fondly. I thank him again and leave him to his work. A few more minutes is all I need to familiarize myself with all the new names and faces in the kitchen and introduce myself to every single one.
A few are grateful, but most are surprised.
I doubt Andrei took the time to learn their names.
When my tour of the house and its mechanics is finished, I find myself wandering the gardens. Endless rows of seasonal flora greet me, and I wish I had a sketchbook to note their arrangement. Someone must have a guide or blueprint. I make a mental note to ask for the head landscaper to give me a guided tour soon.
I want to know every square inch of this property, down to the last root and stem. The best way to claim power is to take it right from under my fiancé’s nose, one sliver at a time.
I’ll show him what it means to rule a Bratva. You can’t solely focus on the business and forget about the people whose backbones it was built on.
As I avoid the rose garden and its labyrinth of thorny walls, I catch someone spying on me from the back porch. “Back to our old routines, are we?” I raise an eyebrow at Ezra. “I thought you might have grown out of the whole bodyguard thing. Haven’t you been promoted yet?”
Ezra grunts, but doesn’t take the bait. I’ll have to riddle out his official job title on my own, or with the help of the staff. They always know more than they let on.
He crosses his arms and leans against a cement statue of two lovers dancing together. It’s always been one of my favorites within the gardens. “What have you been doing past five years?” he asks.
I shrug. “Not much. Working. Dating.”
His eyes narrow. “How long have you and Liam been together?”
“That’s none of your business.”
He stares at me, so I cross my arms and stare right back. When I don’t elaborate, he moves on. “Your work. What did you do?”
I don’t mind answering this question. “I worked in real estate. We bought properties, repurposed them, and sold them for a profit. Kind of like flipping houses, but commercially.” I don’t know the logistics of how it all worked, but between milling about the office and perusing files left out at Liam’s apartment, I saw enough reports to get an idea of the company’s resources and profits. “We’re a big company. Multi-million dollars worth.”
“What is company name?”
I press my lips into a thin line. “I hardly see how that’s important. You asked what I did for work, and I’ve told you.” Now he’s just digging for secrets to blackmail me.
My eyes widen. Or, more likely, he’s trying to find my grandmother. I promptly shut the fuck up and go back to wandering the grounds.
Over the next few days, I catch glimpses of all three men. Ezra keeps an eye on me from a distance, Mikhail is on the phone a lot, and Andrei stays holed up in his office most of the time. I eat dinner with Andrei every night, as he promised, and he tells me about what events he’s lined up for us.
“The mayor’s birthday is this weekend,” he tells me one such evening. “I expect you to join me.”
“He won’t know who I am.”
“He will,” Andrei assures me. “Everyone will, and they’ll all be clamoring for an invite to our wedding.” He swirls the wine in his glass with a small, twisted smile. “It’ll be even grander than the last.”
I clear my throat and smooth my napkin in my lap. “I’d like to help with the planning.”
Tilting his head, Andrei studies me. “You were barely interested in planning our first wedding.”
Damn, I was hoping he’d forgotten about that. “I’m older now. I know what I want.” I pop a cherry tomato into my mouth. “If you pick a hideous color scheme, that’s all anyone will remember. Andrei and Valentina, married by clowns.” I pull a face. “That’s not how I want people to remember me.”
He continues to watch me as I swipe my dinner roll across my plate. “Be up and ready by nine. We’ll meet with our coordinator in the morning.”
After dinner, I’m excused, and we go our separate ways. He doesn’t try to kiss me again.
I almost wish he would. My heart races every time he comes close to touching me . . . and then I’m left aching for something I shouldn’t want.
The last few days have been torture of a different kind. I expected him to beat me. Curse me. Rage over and over again. But he’s been decidedly calm, when I’m expecting the wrath of a storm.
Has my submission pleased him that much?
Or is he waiting to strike when I least expect it?
