Page 57 of Savage Bratva King

All that was going through my head was that I couldn’t protect her if she wasn’t on my property, and if anyone harmed her, I would serve time for what I would do to them in return.

Because Gianna isn’t like other women. At least, that’s what I told myself when I was cradling the white and tan German Shepherd puppy in the rescue center.

I down another vodka shot.

Gianna flashed those turquoise eyes at me, spread her legs wide, begged me to fuck her, and this is the result.

What did I always tell my parents? Love is a weakness. Not that I’m under any illusions that this is love, but I let her into my bed, I let her fill my head with her groans of pleasure, and this is how she repays me.

Only something about this whole episode doesn’t sit right with me.

I questioned Olga, who told me that Ms. Sedric came to the kitchen with her breakfast tray and gave some treats to Marvel. Olga said that she left the room shortly after Tamara entered, and that was the last time she saw them.

The guard stationed outside the back door confirmed that Tamara had dismissed him when the two women went outside to walk the dog. The men in the control room were still deciphering the video footage of the brief conversation between Tamara and Gianna that took place inside the kitchen, and Sergei, conveniently, had been called away to the warehouse.

But here’s where the story starts to become a little fuzzy around the edges.

Two women, one dark and sharp as steel, the other light and soft as butter despite the core of reinforced metal at her center. I see the bruise on Tamara’s cheek. I see it, but I don’t believe it was inflicted by Gianna who then promptly handed the gun back to the woman who was supposed to be guarding her. Gianna has grown up in a mafia family. She might not be involved in the family business, but self-preservation will be ingrained in her blood. So, why didn’t she keep the gun?

Another shot.

Another flurry of images of Gianna’s naked body writhing beneath me while I ram my cock inside her.

Another surge of anger directed at my inability to live by my own beliefs.

Women cannot be trusted.

But Gianna wasn’t faking those orgasms. She wasn’t faking the way she looked at me with those huge eyes when she kissed me. I’m no expert when it comes to women, but I know how it feels to be played—I still have the Elena scars tattooed across my heart—and Gianna wasn’t playing me. The scene over breakfast the morning after she arrived was her idea of using my own testosterone against me, and we all know where that got her.

I’ve no doubts at all that if Gianna Sedric wanted to escape, she would not be locked up in one of my guest rooms right now. She’d be at home with her family, giving them enough information to take me down within the next twenty-four hours.

So, what the fuck happened this morning?

Between leaving Gianna in my bed, rosy-cheeked, serene, and smelling of sex, and receiving the call from the guards, something snapped. Like a light being flicked on. My gut is telling me that this is down to Tamara, and my gut has never let me down yet.

But I don’t like where this is leading.

One of them is lying to me, and I don’t tolerate being lied to. Tamara knows this. She has lived with me long enough. Gianna doesn’t know me at all, but I can’t figure out why she is lying to protect Tamara when it creates more problems for herself.

Two more vodka shots, and I stop overthinking the situation, instead, allowing it to unravel and present itself to me in all its technicolor glory.

Gianna lied because she understood the consequences of Tamara’s betrayal, and because that’s the kind of person she is. She works at a women’s refuge for fuck’s sake. She won’t see another woman suffer through her actions, so she took the blame instead.

But where does this leave Tamara?

The familiar icy sense of duty crawls through my veins, putting up a heroic battle against the hazy effects of the half-bottle of vodka I’ve already consumed.

Duty first. Duty to family. Duty to my people. Duty to Gianna.

While she is under my protection, I will not allow her to come to any harm. I stand up too quickly, my brain cells taking a beat to catch up with the movement. It’s obvious that I can’t trust anyone else to protect her, and while she might be locked inside a guest room with Dmitri standing guard, anyone can get to her.

My blood is pumping around my veins. I can’t leave Gianna alone. No one will dare touch her while she’s with me or in my quarters, so this is in her best interests. I’ll sleep on the couch if that’s what she wants, but from now on, she doesn’t leave my sight.

I open the door.

Voices coming from the kitchen sober me up instantly, my thoughts immediately ganging up on me. What if Tamara is telling the truth? She has never lied to me before; I trust her and Ivana as much as, if not more than, I trust my own family because they stick with me through choice not through blood.

It’s feasible that Gianna stole Tamara’s revolver, hit her with it to slow her down, and deliberately handed it back to make it look as if Tamara was lying. The timing is impeccable. She waited for me to fuck her first, she gave me a taste of what it’s like to slide in between her open legs and then wham! She hit me with an escape attempt almost before I’d washed her cum from my cock.

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