Page 52 of Savage Reign

Vadim’s voicecomes through the Bluetooth speaker, tight with irritation, as I roll the Bugatti out of the garage and stop in front of the house. “Seriously? You’re ditching the meeting with Igor?”

I roll my eyes. “I’ve worked nonstop for days, trying to clean up the fallout from the Colombian shipment. I think I deserve a day off.”

“Sure, but you’ve never taken one before.”

“I have something important to deal with.”

He scoffs. “And this meeting isn’t important?”

Igor and I meet every week to discuss our various business ventures, and I’ve never missed one of those sit-downs. But today, I don’t have anything new to report. I haven’t heard from Roman since I sent him the picture of Sofiya’s finger, but I expected as much. The Syndicate was never going to come to heel easily. Roman needs time to consider his options and then realize they all suck.

But Igor won’t see it that way; he’s like a dog with a bone. He’ll grill me with questions about Sofiya, and I don’t want to discuss her with him. I’d rather he forgot that she’s in my life.

“I trust you and Eva to handle it.” I lean back in the seat, watching the house through the windshield. After a beat, I add, “And Emil. He’s been itching to get out of the house. Let him sit in, get a feel for how we operate.”

I’m trying to meet Emil halfway. He’s told me he wants more responsibility. Getting involved in the day-to-day operations will keep him focused and allow me to see how he handles himself. I can’t deny that I have my own selfish reasons for wanting to keep Emil busy, especially since I didn't like coming home to find his attention on Sofiya.

Vadim laughs, the kind that says he doesn’t believe me for a second. “Fuck, now I’m worried. Are you dying? Tell me the truth. I can handle it.”

“Not today.” I pause for effect, then add, “I’m taking my wife shopping.”

The silence on the other end is thick. I imagine him blinking at the phone, his brain short-circuiting.

“You’re taking Sofiya shopping,” he repeats. “This is what you’re ditching the meeting for?”

I understand his shock. I’ve never once missed work for anything personal, especially not for a woman. Then again, Sofiya isn’t just any woman. She’s my wife, my responsibility. That’s what I tell myself, anyway.

Last night, I had a pile of work waiting for me, but when I saw how lonely she looked, I couldn’t walk away. So I stayed with her and did something I hadn’t done in years—I watched a fucking movie. A horror movie at that. But I didn’t hateScream. And more than that, I didn’t hate spending my night with her.

“Careful,” I warn. “You realize you’re talking about my wife, right?”

“Words I never thought I’d hear you say.”

Words I never thought I’d say either, but here we are. “This is a duty, nothing more,” I tell him, but his skeptical laugh makes it clear he doesn’t buy it.

“I have to go. I'll touch base later.” I hang up before he can continue giving me shit.

Killing the engine, I step out of the car and into the thick morning heat. Yelena let Sofiya know to be ready early, that she’s going shopping today. I find her exactly where I’d expect to—seated in the kitchen while Yelena spoils her with a spread of her favorite foods.

“More blini?” Yelena asks, setting down a fresh platter of pancakes in front of Sofiya.

“I’m stuffed,” Sofiya says, resting a hand on her lower belly before breaking into a grin. “Well, maybe one more.”

When I walk in, all eyes land on me. “How come you never make me a feast like this?” I needle Yelena. She knows I’m not serious. I rarely eat breakfast, but it’s obvious that Sofiya has become Yelena’s favorite member of the household.

Yelena is more than my housekeeper. I met her years ago when she was working as a waitress at a restaurant I frequented. The bruises she tried to hide told me all I needed to know about her marriage. When I heard she’d been hospitalized with a broken bone and wouldn’t be returning to her job, I stepped in, putting her mudak husband six feet under where he belongs.

After that, I offered her a job as a maid in my household. It didn’t take her long to advance through the ranks. Within a year she was running my estate, but for some reason, she still insists on doing the cooking.

Yelena swats at me with a dishrag. “I’d spoil you more if you actually ate breakfast. With you, it’s always coffee and go.” She shakes her head, sighing like I’m a lost cause. “Sofiya here sits and enjoys the food I make. When you’re ready to stop running yourself into the ground, I’ll make you your favorites.”

I laugh because she’s right, but I know the real reason she pampers Sofiya is because she wants her to feel at home. Despite her own history with a shitty marriage, Yelena believes I’d be better off with the love of a good woman, and she’s not shy about making it clear she wants a baby in the house, either. Her little matchmaking efforts aren’t subtle. I’ve told her it won’t work, but Yelena doesn’t give up easily.

I grab a cup of coffee and turn my attention to my wife. “Good morning, moya sladost.” My gaze flicks over her. She’s wearing a tank top and denim shorts. Her hair is in loose waves around her shoulders. She’s stunning, even without much effort. “Are you ready to go?”

She tilts her head, scrutinizing me. “With you?”

I lean my forearms on the counter. “Yes, with me.”

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