Page 40 of Devil's Bride

It’ll be to my detriment, but I have more than enough bullets to go round if any of them dares disrespect Irina. I don’t care if anyone says shit about me behind my back, but no one will say anything about my wife.

Igor’s groan is like music to my ears. He doesn’t sneer or seethe, he just swallows the pain as his blood flows to stain the floor.

He hadn’t said that because he was worried we can’t trust Irina. He said it to spite her. She’s taken the spot he wanted for his daughter, Nadya. Of course he’d detest her, but he made a stupid mistake in showing it.

“Get out of here and see to it that your wounds are tended to,” I order.

Igor nods. He staggers to his feet. The man sitting to his right stands up to be his crutch as he leaves the room.

I glance at the blood on the floor. How can the blood of a traitor be that red and shiny? He’s lucky he gets to keep his head and tongue, but I can’t guarantee he’ll be that lucky next time.

Rats like him are bound to sneak around and get caught. I don’t intend to spare him. He’d worked for my father, advised him to exile me from the city, and now he serves me.

Igor and the man who assisted him shut the door behind themselves.

I wrap my arm around Irina’s waist. She’s shivering and I can hear each labored breath. She’s never seen a man shot before, and she’s quite shaken up. I hate that I scared her that much.

“Leave, all of you!” I need to take my wife back home and take care of her.

My men share glances, but none of them dares to argue. Dimitri and Mikhail are the last to leave. Nikolai is nowhere to be found. Irina entered here alone, which means he hadn’t gone to her as I ordered.

Little bastard.

“Let’s go home, Irina.” I help Irina up to her feet and hold her hand as I lead her from the room. We’re barely on the dancefloor when Nadya runs up to me and hugs me, pressing her big breasts to my chest and almost shoving Irina aside.

I’d have dragged her to my office and fucked her before I met Irina, but all I want to do now is push her away and get on my way. I do just that, and she has the nerve to look surprised.

“What are you doing, Alexei?” she shoots a glare at Irina.

“Taking my wife home.” I point at her. “Move out of my way.”

She frowns and moves out of the way, but wisely doesn’t ask the question I know she’s itching to ask; if Irina is better than her. My answer would be yes, Irina is better than every other woman I’ve ever come across. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have agreed to marry her, threat or no threat from the Phoenix.

Irina silently glares at Nadya which makes me think Nadya said something to upset her. I have a problem with people who run their mouths when they shouldn’t. I’ll handle that later.

I lead Irina to the SUV parked outside and round the car to the driver’s seat. She’s quiet most of our drive back home, leaning her head against the window and staring blankly at the streetlamps flashing by.

She’s out of the car the moment I bring it to a stop at the entrance of the mansion. She slams the door and trudges inside.

I toss my car keys to one of the security men standing outside and hurry after her. She’s fast for someone who’s only five-foot-two and wearing spike heels. When I finally catch up with her in our bedroom, I grab her wrist. “What is it?”

Her eyes narrow as if she’s surprised I’m asking an obvious question. Between Igor and Nadya, I really don’t know why she’s upset.

“You shot a man, Alexei.” Her eyes water. “You shot him.”

“In the leg,” I help her complete, just in case she didn’t realize I didn’t shoot to kill. “One of my men disrespected you and I only made an example out of him.”

She pulls her hand from mine and frowns at me. “Shooting people is not the way to make an example. Violence is disgusting, and it shouldn’t be your go-to whenever someone upsets you.”

I sigh and rub the back of my neck. I can’t believe she’s this upset over something like that. “This is the mafia, Irina. I’m Pakhan. What did you expect? That I’d sit and let him speak about you like that?”

“No, but shooting him…that was too much.”

“Should I have gotten him roses and taken him on a date to ask nicely?” My eyebrows lift toward my hairline. “Would that make you feel better?”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.” She runs her fingers through her hair, frustration evident in the gesture. “How do you have men loyal to you if you treat them all like that?”

“I don’t need their loyalty. Their respect and fear are all I need.”

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