Warmth creeps up my throat as I think about how good Enzo’s been. “Very.”
Dmitri studies me harder, then nods like he’s found the answer he’s looking for. “I’ll kill him if he’s not a good husband to you.”
My brother is deadly serious.
“I don’t want that.”
“You sure?” He works his jaw. “I didn’t like that Misha wanted to marry you off to the fucking Andrianis.”
“I’m sure,” I say, adamant. “I…I like Enzo, Dmitri.”
It’s all I can bring myself to say. The truth is that I’ve fallen in love with Enzo. I don’t know when or how it happened. Somewhere between him handcuffing me to a bed in the middle of nowhere and giving me an orgasm marathon in one night, I fell hard for Lorenzo “Scorpion” Andriani.
The realization is terrifying, and I don’t know what to do with it. What it means for me. I don’t even know how he feels. And I especially don’t know how he’ll feel after he realizes I ran from Antonio straight to Dmitri.
My brother nods again. “Let’s get to work on finding Svetlana.”
His phone rings a third time, and he looks at the screen before frowning. “Fuck. I need to take this, Katya.”
I move away, giving him privacy.
He taps the screen, looking annoyed before he holds it to his ear. “This had better be good.”
His expression suddenly shifts. “What the fuck?”
Scorpion
On the otherside of the bridge, I’m waiting for a car to pick me up, pacing on the sidewalk as horns honk around me and the world keeps spinning like a life-and-death emergency isn’t currently unfolding. I’m stranded in the wrong part of the city, with no way to reach Katya, and I’ve never felt more helpless in my life.
I ran across the bridge, dodging through stopped traffic, frantically dialing Dmitri Sidorov as I went. The fucker kept dumping my calls. I left him desperate voice mails telling him to find Katya and get her as far away from Silk as possible. And still, nothing. I’m in a race against time, and I’m fucking losing.
Now I spear my phone with my finger and dial him again.
This time, he actually answers.
“This had better be good,” says a sneering Russian voice, and I’ve never been so happy to hear it.
“Sidorov, listen to me,” I grit out, “there’s a package that’s been delivered to your club, and it’s going to go off in less than ten minutes.”
“What the fuck?” he growls.
I couldn’t give two shits about the fury in his voice. I have one goal, and it’s to get my wife to safety. I pace down the sidewalk, away from a group of chattering tourists.
“Listen to me. Are you anywhere near Silk, or can you reach anyone who is? The tracker I’ve got on Katya says she’s there, but I have no way to reach her. She turned off her phone.”
There’s a pause on his end of the line.
“Sidorov,” I repeat, my desperation making my hand shake as I run it through my hair. “Do you have any way of getting to my wife? I’ve been stuck in traffic and I’m about to get a car, but there’s no way it’ll take me downtown fast enough.”
“She’s here with me,” he says finally. “We’re both in the club.”
“Jesus.” My heart drops. “You’ve got to get out of there. Fucking immediately. Evacuate the building.”
“Are you telling me you’re blowing up my club?”
“Like you fuckers did to my restaurant?”
“You were given warning.”
