Page 61 of Brutal Vows

“Okay.” She stands, brushes her hands down her hips. “I’m ready.”

That light blue cashmere sweater…fuck, I want to peel it over her head and see if she’s wearing sexy underwear underneath it all. Weird, to have these desires normal people take for granted. I could always hazard a guess what it looked like from touching the fabric, feeling the lace and embroidery as if I was reading Braille, but to actually see her in it?

Instead of giving in to the urge to drop the towel and tell her to help herself, so I could in turn help myself, I head to the second bedroom to get dressed.

We’re snowballing. It’s just a matter of time before we trigger the avalanche building between us.

I get dressed at speed, and when I walk out into the lounge minutes later, Milana is standing by the windows, clenching her phone. I’ll crack that code too, hopefully sooner rather than later.

We head out and to the elevator in silence. For all that there was a sensual moment in the bathroom, the weight of the day rests heavy.

My driver is waiting, and I hold the door for Milana. She won’t run. Not until she’s seen her brother. She hasn’t even brought her purse along.

“Do you know if she’s out of surgery?” Milana asks once we’re on the highway.

“Apparently, she is.”

“So it went okay?”

“I don’t know, princess. Gunshot wounds are something else. Time will tell.” I reach for her hand, needing to touch her, comfort her. She doesn’t pull away but curls her fingers with mine.

“Ivan got shot. In July. I hate that I wasn’t there—” She breaks off, emotion thick in her voice. “I don’t know how he pulled through.”

I shoot her a glance. “He has two little girls. He couldn’t afford to die.”

She bites her lip and looks out of the window again. “It’s amazing what you would do, the lengths you’d go to, to survive for your children’s sake.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Today was a close call. I haven’t told her that the bullets that ripped through Gabriella were meant for Ivan. I couldn’t do it. Let him tell her. Our sister isn’t the only one being hunted by Chertnikov. The man is way too bloodthirsty for my liking. Good thing Milana chose wisely in the bathroom today. Chertnikov doesn’t know where he’s thrown his hook in. He might be Bratva , with tech and security on all sides, but every man has his weak spot, and we have the means to figure out what it is. We’re not kings of the dark net for nothing.

We drive the rest of the way in silence, lost in our own thoughts. When we reach the clinic, the garage door opens. The driver rolls in, giving the other security who are waiting in their vehicles in the service road a smug nod of superiority.

Yep, the man that needs to stay hidden gets to drive from one garage to the next behind blackout windows, following every fucking precaution I’ve hated since I got shoved into this doppelgänger role.

I will not be seen. I will not exist. I will be nothing unless I have to play at being someone else.

29

MILANA

I got more rattled as we drove deeper into a neighborhood, away from the main roads that lead to hospitals and proper medical care. Now Luca guides me into a modest middle-class home. Somehow, this doesn’t feel right, but it’s quiet in that hospital way. A lone light is switched on, but it’s getting dark outside. We’re in a foyer with several doors leading to rooms when a nurse appears through a door that seems to lead to a kitchen.

“She’s in here,” she says and gives a closed door a soft knock.

Luca nods, opens the door, and gestures for me to walk in.

In the dim light, I home in on Gabi on a hospital bed, surrounded by blinking machines, tubes everywhere, a drip by her side. I have to do everything in my power not to burst out crying. This sweet, innocent, pure-hearted woman is Chertnikov’s latest victim, even if I can’t understand how our worlds could have gotten entangled enough for this to have happened.

Ivan slowly stands from the seat by her side, and for the first time in weeks, I face my brother. He looks drained, the strain of the day etched in the lines carved on his face from thirty-seven years of living in the Bratva.

I rush around the bed to him and throw myself into his arms, hugging him close. He clings to me, and I feel the ripple of choked sobs against my chest.

“They were meant for me, malyshka,” he croaks into my hair. “The bullets Gabi took, she ran to protect me.” He swallows. “The bullets were meant for me.”

Oh, God. I recall Luca’s words, that someone in the Italian Mafia has sold out to Chertnikov’s Bratva. How did we even get here? Who can we trust anymore? I have no clue how Ivan got involved with Il Consiglio, but the Scalera brothers wouldn’t sacrifice their sister. They seem as disconnected from this mess as we were six years ago. And then along came Dimitri again. So welcome, as Ivan’s old school friend, but secretly Chertnikov’s puppet. We didn’t suspect a thing, letting a venomous snake slither into our midst while nobody was watching.

I’ve never been closer to telling Ivan everything than I am now, but there’s a reason I’ve never opened up to him in the first place. He will burn the world down to avenge me, but my secret will kill us all. As long as he doesn’t know, he will be safe with his girls.