Page 44 of The Bratva's Sold Bride

“Are you serious?” She moved her chair closer, then slid it back, clearly freaking out about being under scrutiny.

“Deadly serious. My husband is…” I trailed off, gauging her reaction to see if I needed to elaborate. I shook my head, acting like there was no way I could ever tell her what I went through.

Zoey was instantly sympathetic. “If you ever need anyone to talk to, or anything, I’m here.”

I nodded, pressing my lips together and twisting my napkin. “That’s so nice, thank you.”

“I mean it,” she said. “Anything at all.”

There was outrage in her voice, and I felt bad manipulating this nice woman, only trying to help out another woman in need. But I was in need. Even if Dima wasn’t actually hurting me like I was leading her to believe, he stole my freedom and independence, not to mention my ability to have the life I wanted. He was hurting me in that way, wasn’t he?

With the memories of our time together this morning and throughout this entire day fresh in my mind, it was hard to know for sure.

But, of course, he was. Since the seed had been planted with Zoey, I meant to keep watering it.

As night fell, and Dima and Ivan didn’t return from the restaurant, Andre came over and grunted that it was time to go. As soon as he turned away, I gave Zoey a meaningful look, and she returned with sympathy while giving my hand a quick squeeze.

If I played my cards right, I’d be on my way to freedom in no time.

At home, I took a swim, got a shower, and tried to read, but it was getting late, and Dima still hadn’t returned home.

Turning off the light, I tossed back and forth, finding it hard to get to sleep even though I was worn out from the full day. Where the hell was he? He had some late nights before, but it was getting close to dawn.

What kind of trouble had he and Ivan gone off to deal with that was taking so long? I got up to ask one of the guards ifthey heard anything, but my pride stopped me, and I got back in bed to stay awake some more.

There was no way I was worried about Dima.

No way in hell.

Chapter 26 - Dimitry

My new business ventures weren’t going as smoothly as I thought. The sale of the land I wanted to develop had gone through without a hitch, with the surrounding area seeming ripe for expansion, but it turned out someone else got the same idea as I did. Now, they were stirring up trouble, trying to run us off.

I was reasonably confident I had the locals on my side, and when we got to the property, the people I was investing in the land with assured me that this new group wasn’t wanted.

“We all want to prosper, not be under the thumb of some wannabe dictator,” my new foreman on the project said.

Ivan and I surveyed the damage these new dictators did. It wasn’t much more than breaking into a shed and knocking over some crates. One of the heavy machines had been spray painted with rude words, which led Ivan to ask if they were sure it wasn’t just unruly teenagers.

“No, but they are idiots,” the foreman sighed. “You still shouldn’t underestimate them in a fight if it’s the group I think it is.”

Ivan smacked his fist into his palm. “Maybe we better just nip this in the bud, then.”

I nodded. I hadn’t asked for trouble, but I was ready to hand it out freely to anyone who came knocking on my door.

“Looks like it’s time to teach a few lessons,” I said.

Some of my new crew from the town jumped into volunteer, all citing instances they were happy to mete out some justice for. Even if they’d been looking for revenge, I was happy to have them on my side. Ivan was more than happy to go alongfor the fight, just about dancing with excitement after shooting up the contents of my recycle bin that morning.

“Let’s try to keep this as civil as possible,” I warned all of them. “We’re not killing anyone for making a mess.”

Ivan muttered something about me getting soft, and after giving him a glare that had him shut up in a hurry, I tried to ignore the jibe. Was I getting soft, thinking about Olivia and how she might feel about all this?

We found the gang of disorganized miscreants, and most of them ran off, pissing their pants with fear that we caught up with them so easily. The few who stayed to fight ended up limping away shortly after to tend to their wounds as well as their battered egos.

My guys and Ivan were so worked up after our victory that they talked me into heading to the cantina for some margaritas. Once there, we quickly surpassed the mixed drinks for straight tequila shots, retelling the story of the fight to every newcomer to the bar, and each time it got more dangerous.

I turned away from the sixth or seventh recounting, laughing as Ivan mimed tossing someone into a pile of trash, while another told of a head stomping that never happened at all. Ah well, let them have their fun, I certainly was enjoying myself. I couldn’t believe how happy I was, and it wasn’t just the easy victory or the fact I had people who stood behind me.

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