Page 80 of Under Control

“You are coming with me,” I tell him.

“Russian scum,” he says, showing his teeth. “You’re a dead man, Valentin. When my father finds out?—”

I slam the butt of my gun into his front two teeth. One gets knocked loose and he gags on it before I wrench his arms behind his back and drag him out to the van.

He’s spitting blood and cursing the whole way, but we fix that with a gag and some rope before Anton speeds off back toward Philadelphia.

Chapter 29

Karine

I’m a nervous wreck. When Valentin leaves for the kidnapping mission down in Baltimore, I pace around the house for nearly two hours before I decide there’s no way I can sit around and wait for him to come back. It’s a long drive to Baltimore and a long drive back, and I won’t hear a word until everything is over.

A dozen scenarios play through my head, and all of them end with my husband murdered and dead in an alley far away.

Strange, how suddenly he’smy husbandin my head.

Instead of torturing myself for another few hours, I call Merrick. “I need something to do,” I tell him. “And I feel like you owe me.”

“Darling, it’s early, but if you’re so bored you can come let me paint you again.”

“You sure my husband will be okay with that?”

“I’ll gift him whatever I make as a little present. How’s that sound?”

“I’m sure he’ll love it.”

Which is how I end up naked in Merrick’s art studio as the sun rises outside his big windows. I drink coffee and pose myself however he instructs me, and he busily makes marks on his canvas and chats with me about aimless, normal things.

It’s nice, actually. Living with Valentin made me forget that there’s a big world outside the Bratva and most normal people only worry about things like when the farmer’s market is opening and where their next cup of tea is coming from.

And even the ones who were like me, who had to obsess over every penny and spent most of their time stressed beyond healthy levels, even they have it easy compared to me right now.

I’d rather go back to drowning in debt.

“Darling, your shoulders are hunching again,” Merrick says, squinting at me over the canvas. “What’s the matter with you this morning?”

“It’s nothing.”

“You’re practically a ball of stress.” He chews on the end of his brush. “I suppose it’s making for a good composition, but still. What’s your deal?”

I take a long drink of coffee and blow out a breath. The silk robe I’m wearing—an entirely different silk robe from the other two I’ve worn while visiting here, which makes me think Merrick’s got a weird fetish going on—falls down one shoulder.

“Valentin’s doing something dangerous and I’m worried. That’s about as much as I can tell you.”

He nods slightly, frowning as he works. “And that’s important to you.”

“Obviously. He’s my husband.”

“Is he now?” He seems distracted as he talks. “I thought the two of you weren’t all that serious.” He clears his throat and glances at me. “Well, I thoughtyouweren’t as serious abouthim.”

I let that sink in. He’s not wrong. Up until recently, I would’ve agreed with him. Obviously, this relationship with Valentin is volatile and exciting, but it’s notreal.

I couldn’t see myself with him for the rest of my life.

But that’s changing. I’ve been thinking in terms of five years, ten years, twenty. I’ve been thinking children, schools, vacations. Waking up every morning to Valentin’s stormy glares and moodiness.

“I think I changed my mind.”

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