Page 46 of The Bratva's Plus-Size Bride

“Say the word, and we’ll drop this whole idea,” he says, his green eyes filled with hope. “I’ll take us all the way home, and we’ll forget this place even exists.”

He would, too. “Let me do this for you. I know I can do it, and I know you’ll keep me safe, no matter what happens.”

I have no doubt about that. There’s nothing that would stop him from rescuing me, and I saw in the hotel just how lethal he can be. Sure, there are about a hundred things that could go wrong, things that could prevent him from getting to me because no plan is one hundred percent solid, but I trust him. Now I just need him to trust me.

Thankfully, he doesn’t try again to talk me out of it. “Need to go over anything first?”

Like I don’t have it memorized. “I’m good. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

I unbuckle my seatbelt and begin to get out of the car, but he pulls me back in and rubs his thumb across my cheek.

“I love you, Ella,” he says before kissing me, and my heart swoops in an entirely different way.

Somehow, this perfect, incredible man has chosen me. I lean across the seat and kiss him deeply and quickly. If I linger in his arms, I’ll never want to leave.

“I love you, Anton,” I say, and step out of the car.

***

I’m in the eastern half of the city, making myself as conspicuous as possible. Anton laid the bait earlier, setting up a reservation for both of us at a known mafia restaurant, then changing it last minute to a reservation just for me. Hopefully, someone is watching, and whoever it is thinks Anton is too busy to be with me right now, leaving me vulnerable. They already know I’m with him, evidenced by the attack at the hotel, so I’m the perfect bait.

I sit at a table by the window at the front of the restaurant, just in case even more visibility is needed, and pick at the food I ordered. Somehow, I don’t have much of an appetite. The plan is for them to grab me either at the restaurant or as I’m leaving, with a few backup plans in case that doesn’t happen by then. It’s all up to chance now.

It’s half past eight. I know somewhere out there, the Milovs are lying in wait, hidden from view. Viktor and Luka are here to help, and Anton went over the plan with them about ahundred times this morning. The atmosphere was so tense, it was almost a relief when it was go-time.

I pay the bill with Anton’s money, something I’m still getting used to, but there’s no way I could afford this place, and I make my way to the restroom before I leave. If I’m getting kidnapped, I at least want to do it with an empty bladder.

The hallway to the bathroom is long and dimly lit by golden hanging lanterns. I pass the swinging door of the kitchen on one side and continue into the lavish restroom. There’s even a couch. I’m washing my hands when the door opens and a woman steps in, opening her purse as though she’s about to fix her makeup.

Instead, she draws a gun. I bite back a scream, teeth digging into my lower lip so hard I taste blood. This was not part of the plan. The fact that we’re already deviating sends pinpricks of fear racing down my spine.

“Come on,” she says, grabbing me by the arm and pressing the barrel of her pistol against my side, hiding it from view. “Out here.”

I follow her orders as we walk quickly down the hall toward a back exit. She leans against the silver bar, and the door opens, letting us out into an alley filled with dumpsters. An SUV waits with its engine running, and the back door swings open the moment we step outside.

“In,” she says, digging the gun a little deeper.

I swallow a scream and climb into the car, praying someone is watching this back exit. A moment later, the world goes dark as a bag is pulled over my head. The air is thick and hard to breathe, but I can still get some.

The car starts to move, and I’m instantly disoriented, feeling nausea rise in my throat as someone yanks my hands behind my back and ties them roughly with what feels like rope. I expected screeching tires, but we’re moving with traffic, I’d guess, trying not to draw attention.

What feels like an hour later, but is probably fifteen minutes at most, the car stops, and the familiar sensation of a gun reappears at my side. I’m ushered out of the car and into a building, stumbling over the uneven ground that I can’t see.

A rough grip on my shoulder guides me through the building, and from the weight of it, I think it’s one of the men.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask, head swimming as I try not to hyperventilate. Anton is following us, right? He must be. “Who are you?”

“Shut up.” The man’s hand tightens on my shoulder, and a second later, I’m shoved down onto the floor. “Just shut up.”

“Think they’ll come for her?” The woman’s voice comes from the other side of me, and I turn my head to follow.

“Of course they will. She’s one of theirs.”

A phone rings, and someone swears, the ringtone cutting off abruptly. “Yeah, Boss? We got her.”

I strain to hear over the sound of my thumping heart, my pulse in my ears.

“They’re coming here? Now? Got it,” the man on the phone says. There’s a rustling and footsteps nearby, getting farther away.

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