Page 42 of The Bratva's Plus-Size Bride

“The city. Whose is it?” I get straight to the point because the two men are splitting up, taking a stance on either side of Kira, but a few feet back, blocking our exit.

She cocks her head to the side, not missing the way I tuck Ella in next to me close enough to feel her. “Ours, obviously.”

“But not only yours,” Ella says, without a quiver of fear in her voice, because my girl is something else. Still, I don’t like the way she draws Kira’s attention.

Kira’s eyebrows rise and two lines appear on her brow. “Who says?”

“We know,” Ella continues, stepping out from my shadow. “Since the Abashins tried to take us out. This territory must be split at least two ways, but I’m betting on more.”

“Are you?” Kira steps in toe to toe with Ella, her voice cold enough to crack. “We’ll chase them out soon enough. And the Italians, too.”

“Multiple groups,” I say, mostly to myself. It’s better for us, honestly. Means there are turf wars going on and things are still in flux. This is a new territory, so one family is not completely entrenched. “Where’s the line?”

One of the large men scoffs, but I don’t take my eyes off Kira. She’s the real threat in any room she’s in. “You’re standing in it. Everything from here, west to the shore, is ours. The east side? That’s fractured. Anyone’s game.”

“It’ll be ours soon,” one of the goons chimes in, earning a sharp look from Kira that shuts him up.

Bluffing. With multiple warring groups, it can take years to settle a slice of land worth fighting over. This shit just got a whole lot more complicated because our property lies on that eastern shore.

“That’s just in the city proper, right?” Ella asks, all innocence. “I’m assuming the undeveloped zones at the edge aren’t part of this?”

Kira scoffs. “Don’t tell me the fucking Milovs are thinking of moving in.”

The brutes advance one step closer, and I’m this close to throwing an elbow in the nearest one’s face. This whole thing can go sideways in a snap, and I’m betting all three of them are armed, while on our side, it’s just me.

“We’re just looking for a honeymoon spot that won’t start a turf war,” Ella says with a laugh, nudging me.

Kira’s eyes flare with surprise, and she looks between us again. I slip my arm around Ella’s waist. “Only so much security I want tagging along. Unclaimed territory is the safest spot for it.

Luckily, it’s not hard for me to act completely besotted with Ella, because I already am.

Smooth thinking on Ella’s part, but is it enough? If Kira doesn’t buy it, I'll need to be quick on the draw. Seconds tick by in silence, and a bead of sweat runs down my back. I can shove Ella behind me against the wall and stand in front of her to fight. Or, I can push Kira backward and bring the fight to the center of the room, as far from Ella as possible.

“Lucky for you, lovebirds, it’s a no man’s land out that way. Just keep your family out of this part of the city.” She points a manicured finger at me, then at Ella. “Or they’ll be down two members, no matter how in love they are. Now get out of my sight.”

“Pleasure doing business,” I say with more than a touch of sarcasm, backing out of the room with Ella behind me. I don’t turn until I shut the door on the three of them.

We beeline out of the cafe and onto the street without stopping, because I wouldn’t put it past them to jump us, thinking we’d let our guard down. Neutral or not, they’ll take advantage of an opportunity when it presents itself, and taking down a Milov isalwaysan opportunity.

“We did it,” Ella gasps, throwing herself into my arms.

I scoop her up and spin her, kissing the top of her head and breathing in the sweet smell of her hair. “You did it.”

Bratva or business, Ella just fits into my world like she’s made for it.

Chapter 22 - Ella

“This is just for us?” I stop dead in my tracks at the sight before me. No one has ever done anything like this for me. Not even close.

Right on the beach, a gauzy awning covers a domed gazebo, its curtains swaying gently in the ocean breeze. A table is set with a white tablecloth and two chairs on a platform above the sand. Candles flicker. Behind it, the sun is setting, casting a peachy pink hue across the entire sky and the sea below.

“Just for you,” Anton says, lifting my hand to kiss the back of it.

He’s dressed casually yet impeccably, and I’m trying to keep up in a pale blue maxi dress with lace panels and a low cut. Next to Anton, I should feel too large, too unrefined, too outclassed, but I only feel… wanted. Desired. He leads me to the table and pulls out my chair for me. At this point, I actually expect this gesture, which is completely wild to think about.

Private dinners on the beach with a chivalrous, gorgeous man were not on my bingo card for the year, but here I am. He sits across from me, and I don’t even pretend not to stare, drawing a slow, crooked smirk out of him that has my skin heating.

“This is too much,” I protest, and it truly is. Like everything else he does for me, especially when I can’t even hope to match it. What can I offer him that he doesn’t already have? The man is wealthy enough to have two of everything.

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