Page 32 of A Bride for the Mafia King

“Handle it,” I say. “ Just make sure no one finds the body.”

Yaro nods once, efficient as always. But he hesitates. “There’s something else.”

I lift my gaze to him, already on edge. “Spit it out.”

“I thought you should know.” Yaro pulls another few photos from his coat and lays them on the desk. “There’s chatter about Eva.”

“What kind of chatter?”

I go still as ice slides down my spine as I pick up the photos and look at them. Eva and De Mello at a dinner party. Eva getting into De Mello’s town car. Nico, Eva, and De Mello smiling over drinks at a gala.

“Some of our men think she’s a plant. A sleeper for Don De Mello. That she’s playing the long game.”

“She’s not,” I snap.

Yaro doesn’t flinch. “You sure?”

I don’t answer right away. Just stare down at the page, my jaw tight. I don’t need to wonder. I know.

“I know she’s not a sleeper,” I finally say firmly.

“You’re asking me to ignore chatter that puts her in De Mello’s inner circle.”

“I’m telling you to trust me.” A beat of silence. His eyes flick over my face, searching.

“Is there something I should know?” he asks, voice quieter now.

I hold his stare. “Just trust me.”

Another pause. Then a nod. Sharp. Reluctant.

Nico wouldn’t have risked her if she wasn’t clean. He and I had bled that deal into being, behind closed doors and off the books. It wasn’t a pawn trade. It was an oath. He gave her to me because he knew I’d protect her. Not because she was expendable—but because she wasn’t.

“She hasn’t had outside contact in weeks. No unauthorized calls. No coded letters. Mila hasn’t reported anything suspicious.”

“No,” Yaro agrees, tone careful. “But if I’ve learned anything working beside you all these years, Tolya, it’s that trust is a luxury. One we don’t get to afford. Not even with a woman like her.”

I clench my fists under the desk. “She’s not the problem right now. Gavril is. Focus on him.”

Yaro waits, watching me carefully, trying to read me. Waiting for my next move, but I don’t speak immediately. I’m thinking. There’s no urgency anymore. No ticking clock. We’re ahead of the curve for once, and that buys me time. I plan to use it wisely.

“This clears our path to resume our initial op.” I close the folder with a soft snap and look up at him. “But there’s one thing I need to take care of before we move forward.”

Yaro straightens, attentive. “What?”

“I’m taking Eva away for a while.”

“Are you serious?” His brow twitches, just slightly. “Now?”

“We’re not going to rush into this op again. The rat’s caught. The pipeline’s locked down. But De Mello’s on the offense right now, and the Italians are primed to take control once Nico makes the right move.” I meet his eyes steadily, “Patience is the name of the game at this point. Let the chatter die down on both sides before we go after him again.”

Yaro’s expression doesn’t shift. Not even a flicker of emotion. But there’s a subtle tightening of his jaw, something that might have passed for tension if I didn’t know him better.

“I want a few weeks off the grid. I owe her a honeymoon. It’s time I paid the debt.”

“Alright, if you're sure,” he says simply, voice tight. “I’ll prep the rest of the crew and get a detail assigned to travel with you.”

“No,” I say firmly, “I want to do this quietly. No chatter, no eyes. Just me and her.”