AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Dread snakes into my chest and squeezes, slowly stealing the air from my lungs. I lose focus on my surroundings as the pieces snap into place.
Liam isn’t obsessed with Valentina because of who she is. He’s obsessed with her because of her name. Her blood.
I thought the root of his obsession was obvious—of course someone would fall in love with our woman and stalk her to the ends of the earth. She’s stubborn and broken and breathtakingly angry at so many things that have been unfair in her life.
It makes sense that any man would fall for her.
But a Bratva man knows who a Baranova is.
And a Bratva man working with Katya, former queen of this city, will have connections that any other Russian man would not.
“Mikhail?” Valentina squeezes my hand. “Hey, are you okay? You look pale.”
I force air into my lungs.
Valentina’s heart will break if I tell her that her ex-boyfriend has been playing her for power. And then her grandmother...
I can’t wait to put a bullet in her fucking skull.
“I was just thinking about . . .”
Katya’s blood splattered across the floor.
I can’t keep the smile off my face, but luckily, Valentina assumes I’m being perverted. She lets go of my hand with a heavy eye roll. “I told you, you’re not touching me again.”
“I know, malyshka. Forgive me. I can’t help myself.” I stare at her until she blushes and fumbles with her seatbelt to get away from me.
I should feel bad about wanting to kill someone she loves, but I don’t.
Even if Valentina never lets me touch her for as long as I live...
It’ll be worth it to make sure no one ever takes advantage of her again.
Chapter 18
Valentina
As I step out of Mikhail’s sports car, I finally take in our surroundings. A large, gray brick house sits two dozen feet away, the walkway to the front door curving across an immaculate green lawn. It’s autumn, yet the grass is just as green as in the depths of summer.
“This isn’t home.” Turning on Mikhail, I glare at him. Annoyance ripples down my arms to my fingertips, and I clench my fists by my sides. “I thought we were going home.”
“This is home, Valentina.” Mikhail is still grinning wide, like he’s in on a private joke and trying not to laugh at my expense. “C’mon. I’ll prove it to you.” He doesn’t try to take my hand, and even though I should be grateful he’s not pushing my boundaries, my fingers curl in on themselves at the distinct lack of his touch.
I like it when he holds my hand.
We walk up to the front door, and he knocks loudly, foregoing the doorbell. Movement from behind paneled glass catches my eye, and I shrink away from the door. I’ve never been good with introductions, and without the glamor of a party dress and Andrei’s infallible confidence, I grow nervous.
Mikhail glances down at me and gives me the softest little smile. “Welcome home, Valentina.”
The door unlocks and swings open to a woman who looks just as gorgeous as Mikhail, with warm, tanned skin, even warmer brown eyes, and hair the exact shade of chestnut brown as Mikhail’s. It’s done up in a complicated bun that frames her face, and she’s dressed in a soft cashmere sweater that I recognize immediately as one of the new garments hanging in my armoire at the estate.
She smiles broadly at Mikhail, nearly matching his own intensity, before realizing that a shorter, less energized person stands beside him. Her hands fly to her face and she gasps.
“You’re wearing my dress! Oh! Mikhail, she’s beautiful. I just knew that color would look good on her.” She winks at me. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I would have prepped snacks.” Grabbing both our hands, she pulls us inside and kicks the door shut behind us. “I’m just dying to get to know you, Valentina. Mikhail’s not so easily impressed, but he’s been enamored by you since the moment you arrived. And cryptic about it,” she says, jabbing Mikhail in the ribs. “I can hardly get a word out of him about your return to the city! So, tell me everything!”
She leads us to the kitchen, a sprawling expanse of stainless steel and white granite countertops, and pulls a bottle of white wine from an inlay cooler.
As she pops the top and pours us each a glass, I try not to stare. She’s glamorous, and in a movie star way. Perfect skin. Flawless French manicure. A smile that dazzles.
