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“Listen to me, Grigor. I think you’re in danger.”
Grigor drops into a dramatic, breathless tone. “Are we role-playing? Hot. What’s the game, sexy spies?”
For a man in the Bratva, Grigor is supremely stupid. Either his family hasn’t impressed on him how dangerous this life is, or he’s never learned to take a woman seriously. The idea of marrying a man like him, let alone sleeping with him, makes me nauseated.
“If you see my Uncle Kristian, run in the other direction. In fact, just get in your car and leave town right now.”
“Babe, I’m not in town, but as soon as I return from Vegas I’ll—”
He’s not in the city? Then there’s no point in me continuing this tedious conversation, and I hang up without saying goodbye.
I put my phone face down on the counter and sigh in frustration. Bratva men are so frustrating. It’s not just Grigor treating me like I’m a bimbo, Adamovich calling me a petty teenager, or Yuri and his son plotting to terrify me into marriage. Every man I come into contact with thinks he’s smarter, stronger, and more capable than me. Even the four men who attacked me in the warehouse called megirl. I’m so tired of men not taking me seriously or seeing me as an opportunity for more power. It’smypower. I’m Dad’s heir. I’m going to fight to keep what I have no matter what.
I need a hot shower. The memory of the hospital still clings to me, and I want to burn it from my skin.
I turn around and see a man standing in the doorway, blocking my way.
I jump and suck in a startled breath.
It’s him. My stranger in black.
Black sweater, black pants, black gloves, and a tight black mask covering his whole head.
He reeks of blood, just as he did that night.
Slowly, he removes one leather glove and then the other, and I see the flash of silver on his pinkie fingers. He reaches up and pulls off his mask. Silver-blond hair tumbles out and he shakes it back, leveling his cold, glittering eyes at me. There’s blood staining his fingers and throat. More blood smeared on his neck.
“What did you do?” I whisper.
“I did what you needed me to do,” Uncle Kristian says in a dark voice, strolling toward me.
I take an involuntary step back, my heart beating wildly. He doesn’t mean me any harm, I know that, but there’s so much malice emanating from him that it takes my breath away.
He reaches out with bloody fingers and captures a lock of my hair, rubbing it gently between his fingertips. His expression softens as he gazes at me. “I killed him for you, princess.”
“Who?”
“Yuri Golubev. The man who thought he could murder me and frighten my beloved into marriage with his son.”
“He was the one who ordered those men to attack me in the warehouse? The one who killed Andrei, Radimir, and Stannis?”
Uncle Kristian gives a short, angry sigh. “No. Unfortunately, he was not. He only heard about the situation and thought he could benefit from it, but he did intend on killing me. The two-faced bastard didn’t deserve to live.” Uncle Kristian smiles coldly. “So I cut off his face and fed it to his dogs.”
If it wasn’t on Yuri’s orders that I was attacked, then whose? “Are you sure he’s dead? That sounds painful, but is it life threatening?”
“There are more blood vessels in the face than people realize. He bled out, screaming the whole time. I tied a plastic bag over his head when he passed out, just to be sure.”
Uncle Kristian’s signature move.
He speaks casually, but there’s a smile curving his lips. He enjoyed going around to the Golubev mansion and taking his jealous rage out on Yuri.
“And Jozef?”
His eyes flash with malice. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”
A chill goes down my spine. “What did you do to him?”
“Why?” Uncle Kristian asks sharply, stepping closer. “Do you care about him? Does his pathetic, worthless existence matter to Zenya Belyaev?”
