Page 42 of Brutal Vows

“By doing what I was told to do by my Don. Obeying him. Living within the parameters he set for me to the point that he trusted me. I’ve never done something stupid or reckless before. I don’t make mistakes like that.”

“Motorcycles aren’t exactly a no-risk ride.”

“Hmm, but they come with helmets. When I drive out of our building’s underground parking, I’m wearing one, so I’m always incognito. I can ditch anybody who tries to follow me within minutes. I don’t take my helmet off until I’m sure nobody has been following me, and by that time, I’m usually hundreds of miles away from where anyone might look for Stephano.”

She stares at me, digesting my words. Then she shakes her head. “Fucking mobsters. You’re all lunatics.”

“Pretty much. I was hoping to get out before it rubbed off permanently, but hey, here we are.” Her, me, and the horndog in my lap. She hasn’t even glanced south once. I should be offended.

And then she does, and it isn’t surreptitious at all. She drags her gaze up my chest, intentionally slow, sensual. Borderline sexual, and my fucking erection twitches in my jeans.

Fuck my life.

“How do I earn my freedom?” she asks softly.

Her question catches me off guard, but the look in her eyes speaks of her desperation and how far she’ll go to get her way. Her reaction was also so over the top, it only reinforced the notion that she’s hiding something.

I zoom out to the bigger picture, struck again by how we got shoved into the Petrov Bratva without knowing who or what we were getting into, or what the stakes really were for them. The thought hardens me, because my loyalty is with my brothers. With Il Consiglio. Fuck knows what’s going on here, but I’m going to have to figure it out. As much as I want everything with her, as much as I want trust between us, I have to figure her out first. Right now, my wife is the most dangerous thing in the room, and not just for my libido.

“I told you sex between us will never be a transaction, Milana. That’s not what I want.”

“No?” Her voice is barely a whisper, but she gives a very obvious nod at my groin.

I smirk. “Too easy, princess.” And my wife will never buy favors with sex.

“Then how?” she says, this time with more force.

Attagirl. Don’t fucking take it sitting down. Fight. “By helping us. With knowledge you know you have, knowledge you don’t even know you have. Open up to me. Tell me your secrets. Tell me the Bratva’s secrets.”

She contemplates my request, then she reaches for her phone where it had dropped to the floor during our earlier shenanigans.

“Take my phone. I don’t care.” She holds it to me and rattles off its passcode. “Read what you will in there. Find your fucking Russian.”

I pocket it. “Thank you.”

She pulls out the credit card out from between the sofa cushions, where it got stuck. “Will this work online in Russia?”

“I don’t know. Why? It’s maybe not the best of ideas to leave a digital trail⁠—”

“Come up with a better idea then. You’ll see my friend Masha Baykova in my contact list. She can’t work, and I’ve been supporting her. Getting her groceries would be a start.”

“Sure thing.” I hesitate, because it’s none of my business, but then I shrug—I need to get to know Milana and her friends, her network. “Why can’t she work?”

Milana stands with a huff. “I don’t think you’ve got the stomach for that today. I don’t, and in any case, I’m done here. Once you’ve strip-searched my phone, I’ll see if I can use the credit card.”

21

MILANA

“Fine.” Luca says as he stands. “I’m all ears whenever you feel like talking. Just to clarify, it’s the one way to speed things up here.”

He walks off with my phone while I stay frozen on the spot, stripped of my last connection to the outside world. Stripped of every shred of hope.

I thought I was fucked before, but now?

“Where are you going?” I call to him as he heads towards the front door, a tremor in my voice.

He pauses and turns to look at me. “I’m taking your phone to Benedict. I’ll be back soon.”