Page 2 of The Bratva's Sold Bride

I’d given up everything to come down here and help start this new venture. Left behind my own upscale restaurant in Beverly Hills, just to name one of my more legit businesses that were now under the care of managers while I staked a claim on San Diego with Max.

My house was left empty, though I was rarely in the mansion in the hills. I preferred the company of my family instead of rattling around alone in the giant place, and one of my staunch rules was to never, ever take a woman back to my house until we were in an actual relationship.

I would have taken Olivia there in a heartbeat if we’d gotten closer in LA, but right now, I was still camping out in a hotel, not having found the time to look for a more permanent place yet. Sure, it was a five-star luxury, and I had no complaints, but my mood was quickly souring again with the specter of new secrets looming over me.

What the fuck was going on?

When we left the building site, Olivia waved goodbye to us and headed to Max’s office, where she’d work her administrative magic and get all the plans Max had been outlining to her underway. I tore my gaze from her smooth, shapely calves as they disappeared into her car, then grumbled when Max suggested we grab an early lunch.

It wasn’t like I didn’t have my own things to think about. I still had to check in with my people in Los Angeles and had a few irons in the fire down here now that things seemed to be shaping up for this new city to be my home for at least a while.

But all I could think about was Olivia, and that look in her eyes. Underneath her quick assessments of what Max had told her, under the smiles she gave me when I cracked a stupid joke to try to shake that look, something was not right.

And I couldn’t say a damn thing about it because I wasn’t supposed to be obsessed with my brother’s assistant. There couldn’t ever be anything more between us than the mild flirting and friendly banter we shared when we were together.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Max asked, seemingly out of the blue.

We had finished up our lunch and gone to check on a few of our new businesses, bars, and small shops that had accepted us into the area and were thrilled to have us keep things somewhat safe from the disorganized street gangs and the dreaded cartel that sometimes bled north of the border.

We were now heading back to his house, where my sister-in-law would hopefullynothave dinner waiting for us. I loved Brooke like she was my real sister, and she excelled at many things, but cooking was not one of them. Hopefully, she would be too wrapped up in her online classes and would have left dinner to their full-time chef. It seemed like I was so lost in thought that I had been ignoring Max.

I turned to him and raised a brow. “What the hell do you mean?” I countered.

“You’ve been weird all day,” he said irritably.

I shook my head. “That’s you,” I said. “And not just you, but Olivia, too. Surely, you two didn’t have a fight.”

We both snickered at that, since there was no way Olivia would have gone against anything Max said in order to have a fight. She might put her opinions forward, and a lot of the time,I’d seen Max decide her ideas were worth putting into effect, but ultimately, he was her boss and she was way too professional to outright disagree with him. Unless…

“You didn’t finally do something so stupid that she had to put her foot down, did you?”

While she was certainly intrepid and had seen her fair share of things in the two years she’d worked for Max, I also knew he tried to shield the employees who weren’t actually in the Bratva from shit like burying bodies. Yes, she’d had to deal with the aftermath of an explosion not so long ago, but some things were a bridge too far.

“No, of course not,” he snapped. Then his shoulders slumped. “But she’s still quitting. It’s going to be hell replacing her, and Brooke is going to be heartbroken to lose her only friend down here.”

“Why is she quitting?” I asked. It wasn’t hard to feign shock, but it took some work to hide my pure delight that Olivia would no longer be Max’s assistant.

I could pursue her to my heart’s content now, see how much I could kindle the spark that I was certain was there between us. How long until it was a raging fire neither one of us wanted to put out?

Max sighed as he pulled into his winding driveway in the city's most exclusive area. The mansion was far back from the main road and secluded by landscaping, so I settled back for the next few minutes to wait for his explanation.

“It’s something to do with her family,” he said. “I don’t know the particulars, and I didn’t pry.”

Why the fuck not?I wondered. I had to remember their relationship was strictly professional, so of course, he’d merelyaccept her resignation with good grace. But if it was me? I wouldn’t have let her quit for one thing, and for another, I’d have gotten to the bottom of her family problems. What if she needed assistance and was too proud to ask?

I had to remember not to crow with excitement, already planning our first date when she no longer officially worked for my brother.

“She’s moving back to LA,” Max finished, wiping away my exuberant mood.

Okay, that sucked. I was just beginning to get used to living down here, even though I hadn’t started looking for a place yet. As a bachelor, the hotel was just easier. The room service kicked ass, and there was always someone at the bar to chat with if I got lonely.

I was caught between two cities, with lots of new, lucrative things getting started down here, and all my old business waiting for me up in LA. I had begun thinking that San Diego was going to be the place I ultimately chose, but was that just because Olivia was down here?

Now that I knew why there had been that odd tension all morning, I was still stumped about something. There was still something going on with Olivia that made her act sad. Maybe even… scared? I knew her well enough and had observed her so closely for so long that I could feel it radiating off of her, even if it hadn’t been so obvious in her eyes.

We finally rolled up to the front entrance of Max’s house, a towering Mediterranean revival style with arched columns and a big fountain splashing merrily in the roundabout where he parked his sports car. Someone ran up to take the keys from him as we headed inside the cool, welcoming interior.

As soon as the giant front door shut behind us, there was a squeal from the vast interior of the house, and a moment later, a whirlwind clad in joggers and an oversized t-shirt came barreling toward my brother.

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