Page 85 of Brutal Promise

By the time we made it downstairs for dinner, Charlotte had to reheat it. The beef was amazing. This sure beats cutting coupons and scrimping on buying things to make ends meet. The exquisite meal was outstanding. I have no clue how to cook prime rib, so I’m in awe of our chef, Jon. I never thought I would be one to let another person wait on me, but I’m getting used to it. I’m relieved I don’t have to clean this house. I’d have no time for anything else without Charlotte’s help.

We retire to our living room upstairs. I pour Dmitry a vodka, and I email my aunt, whom I know will be happy to hear from me. I explained a whirlwind love story and a trip to London. This way, all the pieces fit. Honestly, it’s so unlike me because I’m a planner and don’t give into whimsical and irrational behavior, but whatever.

Alena is sequestered with her parents, and the situation is grating on her nerves.

I encourage her and remain positive that Dmitry will flush out the men after me. I’m aware that my tapping on the phone keys echoes into the evening.

Dmitry is reading a book in Russian. It’s so quiet here, unlike the city. I grab the remote and turn on the news. Alena asks how I’m doing and wants pictures of the house.

My eyes lazily drift to Dmitry.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, Alena and Kirill are flying over with the don and his family.”

“Really? I’m sure Kirill will be happy rubbing elbows with the man.”

“Maybe.”

“Is anything happening between Alena and Kirill?”

“She says they are such great friends she doesn’t want to ruin it over a fuck.”

Dmitry laughs so hard he coughs on his own saliva. He sends me a look of surprise at my frankness.

I shrug. “What do you want from me? I’m not a princess, I’m a New Yorker, and those are Alena’s exact words.”

“I’m sure.” He smiles, and the news on TV is boring, so I flip to an old comedy show from America.

“Anya and I ate at Zima’s today. It was very good.”

“It better be. We spend a fortune on that restaurant,” he mutters.

This is funny, as I know every business that handles cash is used to launder money. How can it cost them anything?

“Apparently, the bratva spends a lot of time there. The server, Ivan, knows of us and seemed overly friendly. I thought it was odd.”

Dmitry flies off the couch, dumping his book. “What do you mean overly friendly? Did he touch you?” His eyes are a sea of daggers. I’d say he is pissed off.

“No,” I quickly reply. “He just acted like he was inside the family instead of our waiter. Or am I missing something?”

“He’ll be handled. He should know his place, and it’s not mooning over my wife.” His voice is stern. I’m afraid to move.

“Don’t hurt him. I might be overreacting.”

“You’re observant. You knew you were being followed in New York. Trust your instincts. I’ll have it looked into.” He returns to his place on the couch. I decide it’s men’s business and pass his possessiveness off due to the stress he must be under for the wedding.

“So, how are you going to find the men after me?”

He closes his book. “I’m working on it. I need you to go about life as normal. I’m working behind the scenes. Also, I want you to trust your instincts. Anyone who might want to harm you will be at the wedding.”

“You said I’d be safe once we came out, and it is official. I thought the MET appearance would be enough. What’s going on?”

Then, it dawns on me. The wedding is a way to flush out our opposition.

“Wait, you’re using me as bait?” I stand and toss my phone onto my seat.

He stands again and begins to pace.

“There will be a collection of dons, and one or more may want to see you and maybe grab you.”

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