Page 31 of The Bratva's Forced Innocent Bride

We had begun setting up deals, but there were some issues with the cartel thinking we were encroaching, so we were treading carefully. Keeping the peace as we carved a path in this new territory was going to keep us on our toes, but I was used to being on my toes ever since that harried message from Brooke.

It was only a matter of time before Luca found out that we’d slipped away from him, and I hoped the realization that he’d have to do a hell of a lot more driving to keep stalking Brooke would either get him to knock it off or send him over the deep end.

He’d been acting erratically, driven to distraction by the fact he couldn’t get his current obsession in his clutches. Just a few days ago, he’d been caught on video getting thrown out of a club for being drunk and disorderly. And this was a place that knew about drunk and disorderly behavior from its high-end clientele, so Luca must have been making a real ass of himself to get tossed to the waiting paparazzi outside. All the world’s eyes were on him, but it wasn’t slowing him down or making him laylow like anyone with half a brain cell would do. If anything, it was feeding his delusions, and I worried he’d ramp up his game.

Brooke wouldn’t indeed be safe until she was better hidden, and now I wondered if Dima and I shouldn’t have picked a place much, much further away. Then I smiled, remembering the place I’d been able to snap up. It was going to knock Brooke’s socks off, as if it had been made with her in mind, and I couldn’t wait to see her grin from ear to ear when she saw it.

That was my hope, anyway. The reality was probably going to be a little different, hence why I hadn’t told her we were moving until five minutes before we were slated to drive off.

“We’re what?” she shrieked, when I found her washing the breakfast dishes.

I’d told her at least a hundred times that I had staff for things like that, but she’d retorted just as many times that it took all of five minutes and it helped clear her mind to do little chores like that.

“We’re moving to San Diego,” I repeated.

“Visiting San Diego,” she corrected with a frown.

“No, it’s going to be…” I trailed off, since there was no guarantee we’d stay down there. “Until further notice, it’s going to be our new home.”

“Well, how long do I have to pack?” she asked, flapping her sudsy hands.

“It’s all taken care of. We’re leaving now.”

Her eyes flew wide, stormy gray overtaking the blue in them. Her foot rose to slam down on the tile floor, and she shook her head as if she was just trying to think of the proper swear word for the occasion. I held up my hand to spare her the exertion.

“You can get in the car on your own, and it’ll be a very fun road trip, or I can carry you kicking and spitting out there and stuff you in.” I crossed my arms and returned her glare. “Right past the security guard and Olivia.”

That had her faltering. She didn’t give a shit if my security officer saw her throwing a fit. Still, she’d struck up a bit of a friendship with Olivia. It was clear she’d be humiliated to make a scene in front of my unflappable assistant. I was glad that Brooke had someone to confide in, but if Brooke knew how many times Olivia had informed me of her many pleas to help her escape, she might feel differently.

The young woman I’d come to rely on since Aleks had assigned her to the position most assuredly thought the whole situation between Brooke and me was nuts, but she was the daughter of an old family friend, so she’d seen it all growing up around our family. She could be trusted, that was all that mattered. Her friendship with Brooke was appreciated but would never outweigh her loyalty to me, or any of the Fokins.

It took a few seconds, but Brooke stopped stamping her foot in frustration and agreed to make her way to the car under her own steam, but she shot daggers at me the whole way. Once we were in the car and pulling out of the long drive, her shoulders tensed and the anger seemed to leach out of her.

“What’s the matter?” I asked, sensing the change in her mood. I didn’t relish her rage being rekindled when we’d come to a kind of truce the last two weeks, but I hated to see her so timid, almost as if she was caving in on herself. “You’re not scared, are you?”

She turned to me with lightning speed, furrowing her brow and sticking her chin up. I could see the trepidation in her eyes. I remembered she had grown up in foster care, and the fewtimes she’d opened up to me, I’d learned that she’d had to jostle between families quite often.

New places, being out of control. It was no wonder she was terrified, and her valiant effort to hide it had my chest constricting. I wanted her to be able to confide in me, trust me enough to show me her every emotion, not just simmering anger or red hot passion.

But how could I expect that from her when I’d waited until the last damn minute to even tell her the news? I reached for her hand and squeezed it, smiling apologetically.

“It’s a great place, you’re going to love it.”

The fear in her eyes didn’t dissipate, and she looked out the window as LA went by in a blur. The ride was anything but a fun road trip as she lapsed into silence, keeping her arms wrapped around herself.

“Are you going to put cement shoes on me and drop me in the ocean?” she blurted after about a half an hour.

She stared straight ahead, and I burst out laughing, unable to stifle it as much as I tried. “What? Why would you ask that? Have you been watching old gangster movies? Fucking hell, Brooke, my whole life has been pretty much dedicated to keeping you alive these last few weeks.”

There was an exit up ahead, promising a restaurant with an ocean view, so I pulled off the highway. Her cheeks blazed red, but she looked me in the eye.

“What is this?” she asked, glancing warily at the gorgeous blue expanse across a swathe of sand.

“It’s lunch with a nice view,” I told her sternly. “I’m not dumping you in the ocean.”

Once again, I had to laugh and kept chuckling as we ordered soft-shell crab sandwiches and fries. The place was packed, and as soon as the food arrived, I understood why, because it was delicious enough I wanted to ask the cook for the recipe for the diner.

Jenna was burning with embarrassment but dug in with gusto and I watched her with a smile on my face. What was this feeling she brought out in me? I didn’t understand it, and wasn’t sure I liked it. It was too close to losing control, something I’d rarely experienced. Our times together in bed didn’t count.

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