Page 29 of Brutal Bratva’s Owned Hostage

“I see. Roman tells me there might be a breach.” He set the tablet down on the desk between us, pulling up his own analysis of the financial exposure. “I’ve run the numbers on what was actually taken. Whoever did this didn’t touch anything that would show up as immediately missing. No funds moved, no accounts drained. Just information.”

“Reconnaissance.”

“That’s my read as well,” Alexei revealed. “Reconnaissance this careful usually precedes something larger. Whoever is building this picture of us isn’t finished collecting information yet, which means we likely have some time before they act on whatever they’re planning. Not unlimited time. But some.”

“How much? That’s the thing.”

“Weeks, most likely, based on the pace of extraction so far. Could be less if they sense we’re onto them.”

He studied me carefully, almost prompting me silently.

“I need more before I bring it to Mikhail or the rest of the family.”

Alexei nodded slowly, something I knew signaled approval. “That’s more discipline than I expected from you, given everything else happening in your life right now.”

“Marriage apparently improves a man’s patience,” I answered, my lips curving into a smirk as I chuckled.

“Apparently.” A rare, small smile appeared on his face. Then he stood. “Say hi to Val. Isla is planning this big makeup visit. Expect her soon.”

And then he left the office.

Over twelve hours later, I left the office and found Val in the kitchen.

“I didn’t know you took coffee at night, too,” I said, realizing too late that it would startle her.

She jumped a bit but caught herself almost immediately. “Dmitri,” she uttered, a small frown on her face.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly.

“You look like you’ve been awake since before dawn,” she said, studying me carefully.

“Something like that.”

“Of course, I know. I wasn’t asking,” she said, chuckling as she got off the chair and walked up to me with her mug.

“Right.”

She handed the cup to me. “It’s tea. Not coffee.”

I took it from her, partly because I suspected she would bring it to my lips herself if I didn’t take it.

“Not bad,” I commented, taking another gulp.

“It helps your body relax.”

I gave her back the mug, and she placed it on the countertop. She was about to move back to her chair when I wrapped my arms around her waist from behind, pulling her back into my chest.

“You’ve barely slept. You have an injury that has to heal. You should rest before you run yourself into the ground chasing whatever it is you’re chasing.”

“I will. Once Roman has something concrete to bring me.”

“That’s not the same as resting.”

“No,” I admitted, kissing her left shoulder. “Come to bed with me?”

“To sleep,” she pointed out, her voice playfully stern.

“Yes, ma’am.”