AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What do you want?”My teeth grit into a scowl as Gunsyn grins at the scene he abruptly interrupted. Eden takes an instinctive step back at the sight of him leering at us—ather. But her expression isn’t fearful. Her wary gaze is alert, and her hands are clenched in fists.
She’s changed. She’s no longer so easily intimidated by dangerous men around her.
Instinctively, I wrap my hand around her upper arm, guiding her past Gunsyn and toward the open door. Putting distance between them is necessary for her protection. I give him a look to convey my thought—you better not try to take her again.Holding onto Eden tight, I scan the living room for Alexander, then coax her out the door when I see he’s not around.
“Go,” I tell her a little too harshly, as if Gunsyn being here is her fault. A gentle push toward the stairs earns me a nasty glare from Eden.
Gunsyn steps toward the open door, and his crude gaze flicks up and down Eden’s body. He knows better than to touch her, but he could use a reminder. Noting his hungry look, I shut the door on Eden and advance on him. “Why are you here, Gunsyn?” I snarl.
He walks over to the desk, inspects the remains of our dinner, and picks up the bottle of merlot that Eden refused to drink. Gunsyn squints at the label. His lips move as he reads it, and his brow furrows as he takes in the information. “This is a good year,” he chuckles. “I was born in this year.”
I lean both hands on the table, eyeing him. “Answer me.”
Gunsyn places the bottle back on the table and faces me. “Are you still planning your wedding to the lovely girl?”
“You’re on the guest list,” I reply coldly. “Do you suddenly disapprove of your half-assed plan?”
“It’s not that, Nikolai Gennadyevich.” He takes a deep breath in. “I came here to make sure you were okay. Our intel has told me that Zakhar plans to break in to get her back and kill you in the process.”
I scoff at Gunsyn and roll my eyes. “I thought you knew something new with all your intel.”
Gunsyn glowers at my taunting. “I wouldn’t take this threat lightly. Not after Ippolit.”
I grit my teeth. “I can handle it if Zakhar dares to come here.”
Gunsyn shakes his head and his mouth twists. “Just like your brother, you don’t understand the situation,” he says sternly. “Zakhar knows how to access you. Security codes and guards won’t keep him out. Who do you thinkbuiltthis entire system?”
“I’m aware of the danger,” I reply strongly. “And I won’t let him get Eden. She’s under my protection.” I hesitate and take a breath. “If I let her go, they’ll both disappear. And then we’ll have no control.”
Gunsyn sighs heavily. “I didn’t realize how deeply attached you would become to Zakhar’s daughter.”
My gaze narrows on Gunsyn as if I could mute him. “It’s not anattachment.”
Gunsyn steps closer, and a mournful expression appears on his face as he wraps his arm around my shoulder. The weight feels hot and cumbersome, but it also offers comfort.
“Kolya,” he whispers. “You’re the closest thing to a son I’ve got. Why can’t you recognize that I am looking out for you? That is why I am here.” His voice becomes stern again as he pulls away from me. “Don’t make the same mistake your brother did. Don’t place your trust in someone who has a knife at your throat.”
“I won’t repeat Matvei’s mistake,” I reply softly. “Believe me on that.”
“There’s something that we should’ve told you.” Gunsyn’s casual manner almost lessens the impact of his purpose, except he refuses to look me in the eye. “SomethingIshould’ve told you.”
My chest tightens, and I take a deep breath to ease my tension. Whatever Gunsyn is about to say, I know I won’t like it.
I know he’s trying to turn Eden against me, and I know I shouldn’t trust his words or even listen to them. But I do.
“What is it?”
“Zakhar is the reason why you’re sitting in Gennady’s chair.”
I curse silently. “I know that, Gunsyn. He tipped Emilio off about Matvei’s hit.”
“No.” Gunsyn shakes his head as he plucks an olive off the plate. “He was the one who goaded Matvei Gennadyevich into action.”
The revelation crashes into me with the force of a freight train, and I hold onto the edge of the table to keep myself on my feet. “What?”
“He was the one who came up with the idea for the hit.” He pops the olive into his mouth. “Ippolit and Alexander disagreed, and I did too. But Zakhar was the Avtoritet, and the three of us were nothing more than brigadiers.” He spreads his hands. “What weight did our words carry against his?”
“But …” I struggle to breathe. “The hit was meant for me to carry out.”
