Page 58 of Devil's Bride

There is a moment of silence, then the sound of whiskey being poured in a glass. “You’re becoming a lot better at mafia politics. I’m impressed.”

“I learned from the best. Less than perfect is not an option,” I say. While I’d grown up with my father, I heard a lot about Dominic. He was all my father ever talked about because Domonic was his archnemesis. I’d been intrigued and wanted to know all about the man who could trigger such bitter and fearful reactions out of him. And when I eventually met Dominic, I finally understood why.

“Don’t tell me you modeled yourself after your asshole of a father,” Dominic drawls. “It will hurt my feelings.”

“I’d rather be a decomposing corpse than be the man my father was.” I don’t tell Dominic it is he himself I learned from. “Are you going to help with or should I make you owe me for the rest of your life.”

“Disrespectful child. I’ll find out what I can, but do not expect anything else.”

“I won’t,” I assure him.

“I’ll reach out if I find something,” is all he says before he hangs up. He doesn’t want me to have my hopes high, but I believe he’ll find something.

Dominic is not the type of man who enjoys being indebted, and he’s also not the kind of man who would give up before finding what he’s searching for. He has his eye on the entire city, nothing that enters gets past him undetected.

“What did he say?” my brother asks, watching me anxiously.

“He’ll find the leaders of the Phoenix.” I step away from the wall. “Let’s hope he finds something interesting.”

He nods.

“I’m going back to my wife. Sleep here if you want, and tell that asshole Nikolai to stay alert.”

“I will.”

Irina is asleep when I return to the room.

I stand by the door for a moment, taking in the sight of her peaceful form amidst the chaos that has engulfed our lives. The dim light filtering through the curtains casts a soft glow on her face, highlighting the worry lines that have begun to etch themselves into her features.

I feel a pang of guilt deep in my chest. She shouldn't have to endure all this. She shouldn't have to fear for her life.

Quietly padding over to the bed, I sit down on the edge and reach out to brush a lock of hair away from her face. Irina stirs, sensing my presence even in her sleep. I wish I could protect her from everything, shield her from the dangers that lurk around every corner. But I know that's impossible. All I can do is try to make things right, to keep her safe.

Leaning down, I press a gentle kiss to her forehead, hoping that somewhere in her dreams, she can feel me sitting here and watching over her.

She stirs again, eyelashes fluttering before she opens her eyes to look at me. There is a brief moment of confusion before recognition sets in, followed by relief and a soft glance that washes over me like a healing balm.

“Alexei,” she whispers, her voice barely above a breath. “You're here.”

I take her hand in mine, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “I am. I will always be here, Irina. I promise you that."

A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips, and it fills me with warmth. She squeezes my hand, wordlessly conveying her trust and faith in me.

I wonder how we ended up like this. From two people who hated each other with a passion to two people who would do anything for each other. At least I know I would give up anything and everything for her.

***

“Don’t make me regret bringing you along,” I say to Nikolai, who is sitting beside me and staring at his silver knife as if it’s his most prized possession. I know that look in his eyes, he’s hungry for blood and won’t hesitate to use that knife at the slightest provocation.

He cranes his head to look at me and he smiles manically. “Are you worried I’ll kill Dominic Romano.”

I smother a laugh. “As much as I think you’re a madman, you’re nowhere near as crazy as Dominic.”

It’s been three days since I made that call to Dominic. He called me this morning and told me he’d found out something very interesting, but wouldn’t say what. I know it’s something serious if he found it amusing.

“You underestimate me, brother,” Nikolai drawls. He presses the tip of the knife to the top of his index finger. His smile widens when a bead of blood forms at the tip of the knife. “Perfect.”

I shake my head. How do I have a grump for one brother and a madman for the other. “Only a fool would underestimate you, Nikolai Vadim. And I am no fool.”

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