Although when he started sending an armed driver, I had the feeling it was more for my protection than fear that I would run. I wasn’t going to, anyway. I didn’t want to anymore.
Each time I returned from dealing with my family, Evgeny took the time to inquire after them and me, as if he knew how draining each session could be. He would listen to me, too, and offer advice, actualgoodadvice, not just platitudes to get me to go away.
I haven’t tested Vasya’s theory that Evgeny would let me go, should I ask. Something is going on between us, but I have no idea what it is besides the incredible sex. To say I’m confused, both by his actions toward me and my growing feelings for him, is an understatement.
And here he is, buying my little brother a drink and giving him encouragement, praise, and life advice.
Marco is glowing from the praise, too. Praise was Mom’s specialty, aside from what I try to give him, it’s been sorely absent without her.
Watching the two of them, hearing Marco laugh for the first time in a while, seeing Evgeny smile in response, I feel it again, that tingling swirl in my chest taking up residence more and more often lately.
I’m beginning to feel things for him that are impossible to ignore or deny. And not just sexual feelings, though the feel of him beside me sends shivers of desire down to my toes and back up to crawl across my scalp.
No, I’m beginning to feel other things. Other emotions I refuse to name. Because if I do, they become real, and if they’re real, I have no idea what to do.
I cannot possibly be falling for a mob boss. A dangerous bratvapakhan, menace wrapped in seething anger, swathed in an effortlessly polished, scarred exterior.
Yet, despite Vasya’s warning, I see more to him than that. And I like what I see. All of it.
Evgeny must feel me staring because his eyes slip to me, and the incredible sea green is warm and bright. The swirling in my chest expands until I feel it tingle in my fingers.
And then he smiles, his hand brushing mine.
Shit.
The word echoes through my head as I lean closer to him, breathe in his scent again, and revel in the power and strength of his body beside mine.
Iamfalling for him.
What the hell am I going to do?
17
EVGENY
“We can’t get a handle on them.”
The men across the table trade glances, and the speaker licks his lips, nervous.
Three hours ago, this C-suite hosted Kucher Enterprises’ executive board as we strategized to clinch the development contract with the city. We were so close I could taste it.
Then the news hit. Sokolinaya thugs ambushed two of my men outside a deli. One is dead, and the other is in the hospital. This time, a stray shot hit a civilian, stable but critical, and there’s no way to know whose gun fired it.
Now, Kucherov men have replaced the executive board, and anger and unease hang thick in the air.
“Whycan’t we get a handle on them? How does he always know where we are and what we’re doing? Is he tracking us somehow?”
“All of us?” one echoes faintly.
The man falls quiet under my glare and drops his gaze.
“They are a second-rate group. Thugs, all of them, without any loyalty to the code, including Tsepov himself. Why can’t we put an end to this?”
The men around the table flinch when my fist slams into the tabletop. My voice rises with each word until it’s a roar.
“They’re using guerrilla tactics,” Vasya grumbles beside me. “How are we supposed to combat that?”
“So you’re telling me there’s no planning behind the attacks? Nothing we can track? These men have randomly found our mensix timesand managed to take advantage of six straight ‘coincidences’?”
