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“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I growl.
I hear his men take their guns out from behind him, and he raises his hand and shakes it slightly. They put their weapons away, which is smart because Osip’s has been out since we ran out here, and he would take them both out before they realize what fucking time it was.
“I thought that he didn’t really give much of a shit about her. He didn’t have children with her, he didn’t have any men watching her. She ran around and did what she wanted and who she wanted. I thought he would be more than happy to have another wife of his choosing, and I was going to give him the woman of his choice.”
Shaking my head, I lift my hand and wrap my fingers around the back of my neck, squeezing gently before I look back up to him. I press my lips together, trying to gather my thoughts so that I don’t completely ruin whatever the fuck this future is between our Bratva and his Mafia.
“You made the wrong decision,” I say. “He thought of her as his possession. He would have never voluntarily given her up and he is going to be looking for her.”
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t come after her. That he doesn’t do anything to jeopardize our future,” Rostam says. Then he jerks his chin toward me. “I will deal with Azar. You just keep her hidden and safe until I have everything handled.”
I shake my head once, spitting on the ground before I slip my gaze up to meet his. “Anything else happens to her, it’s on your head. What already happened to her is on your head too, fucker.”
Turning my back to him, I wrench the car door open and sink into the passenger seat. I wish that I had my own car. I would already fucking be gone from here. Turning slightly, I look back at Isabel to check on her.
She’s curled up into a ball, her swollen eyes opened only slightly as she looks at me. “You got everything you need from your car? Where are the keys?” I ask, keeping my voice as soft and calm as possible, all the while, inside I wish I could fucking kill Rostam and Azar. Both of them together, like the pieces of shit that they are.
When she speaks, she sounds so fucking weak that it fills me with instant rage all over again, though I’m not sure that it ever really left me to begin with. “My keys are in the car. There’s nothing in there that is mine. I have nothing,” she rasps.
Osip starts the engine and I open the door, looking up to Rostam. “The keys are in the car. Give it back to that fuck or burn it. Don’t give a shit,” I call out.
Rostam jerks his chin as Osip makes his way toward the car. “Let me know on the women,” I continue. “I hold interviews before I hire anyone.”
I expect Rostam to give me a curt nod, maybe narrow his eyes on me, but he doesn’t. Instead, his lips curve up into a grin and he dips his chin slightly. Osip starts the engine, then guides the car away from the office. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my phone and make a call to the doctor.
“Take her to my condo,” I demand as I send the doctor the address so that he can meet us there.
“She may need a hospital,” Osip whispers.
Shaking my head, I refuse to believe that shit. The last thing that I want is to have to try and explain what happened to her to a bunch of strangers, and then at the same time try to convince them all that I’m not the one who did it.
Fuck that. I got the doc coming straight to me.
“The doctor can make the call,” I say. “He won’t fuck around if she needs to go in.”
Osip nods his head. He doesn’t say anything, but I know that he trusts the doctor just as much as I do. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long to arrive at my condo. Picking Isabel up from the back seat as carefully as possible, I try to ignore the moans of pain as I carry her to the door.
“This is some bullshit,” Osip growls. “I cannot believe that this shit happened. That he fucking said anything to Azar. He had to have known what his own man was capable of.”
I snort. “Rostam fucked up. Remember this whole thing when you’re brokering deals with his ass. He knew that Azar was given Isabel when she was sixteen years old. There’s no way he was ever going to just roll over and hand her over freely.”
Once we’re inside, I carry her to my bedroom and lay her gently down on the bed. Isabel moans, but she doesn’t say anything. Touching my lips to her forehead, she lets out a sigh.
“The doctor will be here soon,” I say.
Isabel sighs again. “Ruslan, my hero.”
