Page 86 of Shackled

I nod. “But tell no one. Remember, we hate each other.” I frown. “What the hell are you wearing?”

He looks down at his too-tight T-shirt and shakes his head. “Don’t ask. Let’s get to the warehouse. First, you go outside and say something to my mother to make her believe we’re not together anymore.”

“My God, your poor mom.”

“She’ll be fine. I’m arranging for us to switch transport on the way to the warehouse.”

Still…

He makes a series of calls, peppered with a good deal of angry cursing in Russian. I don’t know what he’s saying, but I know we’ve kept our ruse. Everyone thinks we’ve broken up.

It’s time.

I walk downstairs, clomping the whole way to attract attention. He’s long gone, going through back rooms and staircases in his borrowed clothing so no one suspects it’s him.

I march out the front door.

“Isabella?” Ekaterina stands on the front step, her gaze world-weary and tired. “Where are you going, love? Lev wouldn’t want you to leave.”

I shake my head. “I can’t stay. I’ll be fine. I… It’s complicated, Ekaterina.” My voice cracks. I don’t have to act much at all. It is complicated.

Her gaze meets mine, and in that moment, understanding passes between us. “Stay safe,” she says quietly. “You are strong. You are resilient. No one can ever take that away from you.”

I reach for her hand. “Thank you,” I whisper and lean in. “I’ll be back.” She squeezes my hand wordlessly. I walk toward the car that waits.

I know they’re watching. All of them. The Romanovs. My brother’s people.

My friends.

My husband.

I slide into the car and pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m trembling. So much is at stake. Everything, everything that matters depends on what happens next.

I look out the window when I notice a familiar scent. My skin prickles with awareness. I look around the interior of the car. Why do I smell a familiar scent that… reminds me of my brother? The cloying scent of Zegna Intenso, my brother’s signature cologne, fills my nostrils. Ice pulses through my veins when I meet the gaze of my driver in the rearview mirror.

“Going somewhere, Princesa loca?” Javier says, his look murderous. “Maybe the... warehouse? Yes? Yes! Let’s go. I need to introduce myself to your new husband.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Lev

The car is supposed to meet us at coordinates on the east side of the city so Isabella can make a quick transfer.

But it never arrives.

Fuck.

I wait five minutes.

Ten.

Where the fuck is she? I pace a groove in the ground outside my car when a text comes in from an unknown number.

Fuck!

Warehouse, Mr. Romanov. We are waiting. Come alone or she dies.

My blood boils.

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