Page 26 of Marko

“Marko, it sounds like you have staked a claim on this woman. You are as bad as the rest of us. Does she know yet?” he asked, sniggering.

“Erm, eh, no,” I stuttered out, my equilibrium knocked for six when he continued to chuckle.

That wasn’t at all the reaction I was expecting. Not in the least. I shook my head, regaining my composure.

“She’s receptive to me, but no, she doesn’t know yet that I have serious feelings about her,” I told him in all honesty.

“Well, I’m sure you will enlighten her soon enough,” he said, his amusement still obvious in his voice as he continued.

“Since she is likely going to be yours, I guess she needed to know who we are and what that means. Besides, from what you’ve told me, we need her help as much as she needs ours. We’ll talk about everything when you get here tomorrow,” he said, then hung up.

Well, that was easier than I had anticipated.

Next I called Trigger, gave him a quick update of the situation, and let him know we were heading out and to come over.

Trigger was one of our soldiers, a good friend, and completely loyal. I trusted him totally. He would drive us around today and provide additional security while we were out. This apartment was considered a safe house for us; few people knew of its existence, and it had an excellent security system. We rarely required additional security here, but as we were heading out, I didn’t want to take any chances.

Somehow, the MP knew about Melissa. He knew she would go to the bank, and where she lived, and had obviously sent people after her. Although the initial attack against her was simply a robbery, the second attack was much more sinister. I doubted he’d be able to find her again now that she was with me, but I couldn’t be sure of that. It was best to have backup just in case.

A short while later, I took Melissa’s hand as we weaved through the bustling Covent Garden shopping centre.

“What do you think about this place?” I asked, glancing around at the array of shops. There were plenty of great places to shop in London, including the world famous Harrods, but I’d always liked this place. It had been a favourite of my mum and so I had fond memories of coming here with her as a child.

“Oh, I love it here,” she said, her eyes lighting up as she spotted a familiar brand.

Dragging me towards the shop, she pulled me inside and I couldn’t help but chuckle at her enthusiasm.

We spent a couple of hours browsing through racks of clothes in one shop after another. Melissa trying on various outfits, while I offered my opinion.

“That colour suits you,” I commented as she emerged from the changing room in a vibrant dress.

She smiled appreciatively. “You think so?” Melissa twirled, the dress swishing around her legs.

“Yeah, definitely,” I nodded, impressed by how well it complemented her.

When she was finished, we headed to the counter, and I started to hand my card to the cashier.

“Wait. I’m paying for this,” Melissa insisted, pulling out her card and handing it over instead.

I was about to protest, as a deep-rooted need to protect and care for my woman warred with the need to respect her independence, but her determined look made me clamp my mouth shut. Melissa was mine, but she wasn’t ready to admit that yet, so I wouldn’t push her and risk our budding relationship just to assuage my need to provide. Besides, she was rich in her own right, so there was really no justification for me paying. Yet. One day, things might be different, but not today.

“Alright,” I conceded with a smile. “But let me treat you to dinner at least.”

“Deal,” she said with a grin.

A little later, we settled into a cosy corner of a nearby restaurant, the soft glow of candlelight casting a warm ambiance.

“Cheers,” I said, raising my glass of wine in a toast.

Melissa clinked her glass against mine.

“Cheers to surviving another day,” she quipped, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

We enjoyed a leisurely meal, sharing stories and laughter as we delved deeper into each other’s lives.

“So, tell me more about your family,” Melissa prompted, leaning forward with genuine interest.

I recounted tales of growing up with my siblings, anecdotes about my father’s strict yet caring nature, and a little about Miki’s role as our Pakhan. Melissa listened intently, nodding along and occasionally interjecting with her own experiences.

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