Page 44 of The Bratva's Innocent Bride

It’s on the tip of my tongue. I love you.

“Fiona,” I start, hearing how rough my voice is. She looks up at me, her eyes shining, and I feel it. After listening to her whisper for weeks, it’s time for me to say it out loud. Proudly. I love this insane, intense woman with every part of myself. “I—”

My phone rings loudly, and I jump, making her laugh. I give her a playful glare and dig it out of my pocket, my pulse increasing when I see who it is.

“Roman?” I say, turning away from Fiona and feeling bad about it as I do. All she wants is to be included, but my instincts tell me to shield her from these conversations.

“Come to the office,” he says, breathless, “we need to talk.”

“Hey,” I say, turning to Fiona after hanging up the phone.

“I know,” she says, smiling and glancing up from her own phone. “I’m going to go find Anya.”

I swallow, watching her push through the closet door. Her smile didn’t hit her eyes—but I can’t think about that right now. I have to see what Roman needs.

This morning, I gave him and Viktor specific instructions for how we would get even with Allard. I gathered intel about a trade Allard would be doing this afternoon—a few carts full of cocaine. Viktor and Roman were to infiltrate and sneak out the cocaine, replacing the cartons with empty ones, like Allard did to us.

It should send a clear message without provoking further retaliation. We aren’t to be messed with, but we don’t want a war.

When I get to the office, Roman is leaning against the desk, picking at his fingers. As soon as I walk through, he stands up straight, and the look on his face doesn’t inspire confidence.

“What happened?” I asked, pacing back and forth. What could have possibly gone wrong? And where is Viktor?

My stomach drops, and a certainty settles in my stomach. There’s no doubt in my mind that Viktor had something to do with the reason why Roman looks so worried now.

“Well,” Roman says, taking a deep breath. “Switching out the cartons was easy enough. Despite all his planning and scheming, Allard doesn’t actually have very good security around his shit. Viktor and I were able to get in and out, swap out the crates, and get the real cocaine on the truck headed to our facility for examination.”

My breathing starts to slow.

“Okay, so what’s the problem, then?”

“Well,” Roman says, taking a deep breath. His eyes are tracking me as I pace, and they still when I come to a stop, crossing my arms. “As soon as the cocaine was on the truck, headed the other way, Viktor started laughing.

“Not good.”

“Right—I thought he was just glad that we managed the switch and got it right away without any issues, but obviously, it wasn’t that.”

“Did he take more?”

“No.”

“Kill anyone?”

“No.”

“I just—what the fuck did he do?”

“Viktor…” Roman says, pinching the bridge of his nose, which reminds me suddenly of our mother. That’s exactly the same gesture and tone she would use when talking about Viktor when we were kids. “He put something in the crates.”

“An explosive?”

“He didn’t kill anyone, brother,” Roman says, and despite the seriousness on his face, he lets a small smile slip over the expression. “Fuck, dude—it’s not funny, but it’s kind of funny.”

“What?” I say, mind racing, trying to figure out what Viktor could have done that didn’t kill anyone and is funny to Roman, who is usually very serious and straight-forward.

“Viktor filled the crates with rubber duckies.”

“…rubber duckies?’

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