Page 19 of Stolen By The Bratva King

I can’t help but wonder—could it really be from Leon?

It’s a ridiculous thought, but the notion digs in, stubborn and impossible to shake. He saw past my defenses; maybe he read my mind somehow.

If I don’t know who sent the gift, I can allow myself the possibility, right?

Jess’s head appears around the door. “We’ll need this room soon, Em. What shall we do with the flowers?”

I give a rueful smile. “Ask a couple of the orderlies if they’d mind breaking it down into smaller bunches and taking them around the wards? Some patients don’t get visitors, so they might put smiles on a few faces.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.” Jess beams. “Alright, Miss Florence Nightingale, but don’t forget to keep some for yourself.”

She’s right. It’s my gift, whoever it’s from. But somehow, sharing it feels better than hoarding it all to myself.

My wedding planner, Krissy, left me a message earlier, probably about yet another purchase my fiancé had vetoed.

Throughout the planning process, Krissy was an angel, handling Dante’s demands gracefully while trying to accommodate my vision wherever possible.

When I call back, she answers almost immediately.

“Emery! I have some news.”

“Let me guess—Dante slashed another item from the list?”

“Oh no!” She laughs. “Not at all! In fact, your fiancé put his platinum Amex on account this morning. No limit, no second-guessing. He told me you can have anything you want.”

I pause, stunned. “He did what?”

“I know! Called me himself after weeks of nothing but emails. Said there are no restrictions. If you’ve been eyeing any upgrades or changes, go for it. Honestly, I was kind of impressed. Not every groom is so generous!”

Generous isn’t a word I associate with Dante. He’s spent most of our engagement micromanaging every detail and choosing mid-list options, but never anything special.

So why the sudden change?

“Wow, okay,” I say. “In that case, I’d like to go ahead with the Mikado silk gown I showed you a few weeks ago.”

“Oh, that one was gorgeous!” she says. “I’ll confirm with the designer right away. Anything else?”

I hesitate, the weight of possibility making me dizzy. “I wanted different flowers for the church. Pink roses, eucalyptus, purple thistles…” I trail off, feeling overwhelmed.

“Absolutely, I’ll price up a few package options and send them over by tonight,” Krissy says, delighted. “We’ll make this everything you’ve ever wanted, Emery.”

No amount of money could make this wedding what I want, but I’m not about to tell her that.

14

Leon

It’s been a productive day.

My bratva employs a tech whiz kid called Niki; we bought her out of Juvie three years ago when she was only fifteen. Her main job is to reprogram security systems.

She adds high-tech extras before we send our guys to install them, letting us utilize the best surveillance equipment in the world while making it look like crappy CCTV. She’s also great at creating false digital trails, which is good for money laundering.

This time, though, Viktor asked her to dirty up some money that was actually clean—a first, at least on the scale we needed. The dominos were lined up and ready when I left home this morning.

Now, I’m sitting in Alec Bright’s study, explaining his predicament for the third time. The man is either in denial or a bad listener, but either way, I’m getting bored of hearing my own voice.

“Alec, it’s simple,” I say, leaning forward in my chair. “You’re done. Unless you give me what I want, you’re going to end up broke and in jail.”

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