Page 35 of The Bratva King's Auctioned Bride

As soon as I was sure she was getting ready, I got on the phone to figure out where my plane was. It should have been in Russia after taking Eldar back, but for all I knew, it was still in Milan. That would have been all the better, but I wasn’t going to give my uncle any credit for inadvertently helping me out. I didn’t like being deceived.

Perhaps I was partly to blame. Being so consumed with Mila, I didn’t check in as much as I should have, but I did check in and got the answers I expected. That meant someone in Moscow was lying to me, too.

Fuck. First Kolya, and now this unwelcome news. This wasn’t at all what I meant when I planned to shake things up. I went into the closet and saw that she’d given up after tossing only a few things into a suitcase. She was definitely shaken up by this turn of events, her face still stark white.

She looked like she hated everything, with me at the top of the list.

Chapter 24 - Mila

My head was spinning, and not just from being tossed over Arkadi’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He really meant to take me to Moscow? That notion was making me panic more than it should. After all, I had family there. But if they didn’t know, how could they help me? Arkadi was a master at disguising himself and staying hidden. My brothers had frequently called him a ghost when he was leading them around by their noses back in LA.

Once I was in Moscow, I wouldn’t just be hidden away, I’d be surrounded by his people. Not just the hired guns here, but his family. People who were completely loyal to him and even shared his blood. The whole thing stunned me so much that all I could do was walk numbly into the closet to start packing on his orders. I couldn’t even react to the fact that he picked me up and carried me upstairs when I didn’t immediately comply with his demands.

And soon, I’d be trapped in Moscow with him, probably in some house far outside the city, deep in the woods where I’d never be found.

I stopped packing, breathless with fear, and just stared at the pile of clothes I’d already dumped in the suitcase. Why was I going along with this so easily? I needed to get it together and fight.

Arkadi got off the phone with whoever he was barking orders at and came in to find me not doing what he told me to do. I lifted my chin and tried to look more angry than scared. Not sure if it worked, because I was definitely scared.

“Why are we flying out of here like the devil’s on our asses?” I asked. “Is Kolya a threat?”

He scoffed. “My brother isn’t a threat to anyone but himself. If you’re worried about your friend, you don’t need to be.”

That was all the answer I got because someone called him, and he got back on the phone, continuing to give orders in an impatient tone. When that was done, he pulled a briefcase down that he’d brought with him from Milan. Pushing aside a display of watches, he put it on the closet island and snapped it open. Pretending to mess around with what I already had in my suitcase, I peeked at the contents.

It was full of papers and neat stacks of money in euros, dollars, and rubles. There was also an impressive selection of passports from various countries. After selecting one for himself, he tossed one to me. I caught it, giving away the fact I was staring at him. I opened it up to the picture page to see that it was a nearly perfect likeness of me, supposedly issued from Russia, and bearing a fake name.

My stomach rolled over. How could I have let myself forget he had planned everything about kidnapping me ahead of time, down to a fake passport that looked exactly like me. I ran my hands over the gold emblem on the front and carefully studied the inner pages. It was expertly done and would have needed at least a few days and a lot of money for someone with high-level forgery skills. The first step in erasing any chance of being found.

This meant Arkadi was behind the auction, another thing I’d tried to block out for my own sanity. Just hearing Kolya mention it made my skin feel cold and clammy. Remembering it made me want to throw up. When I saw the look of anger on Arkadi’s face through the crowd of other bidders, I had an inkling of hope that he didn’t have anything to do with it. Just a tiny shred of hope that he was somewhat human.

This passport told a different story.

What little bit of fight I had left drained out of me. Now, there was nothing left but despair. I barely noticed as he finished his own packing and began shoving things at me to put in my half-filled suitcase. What did it matter what I brought?

“Why are we in such a hurry if your plane needs to be prepared to come down from Milan?” I asked.

I had been listening to his conversations since it was impossible not to with the loud barking orders he’d been giving since he hauled me upstairs. His jet would need to be prepared and at least an hour’s flight time before it arrived and he was still acting like we needed to get out of the house immediately.

I needed that time to shake off the strange heaviness shrouding me. And to come up with a plan of escape. I could not let him take me to Moscow.

“Because we are,” he said, not deigning to explain anything as he zipped up my suitcase for me.

By the look on his face, he was caught up in his own dark thoughts, and I didn’t dare continue to push for answers. He strode out, calling for someone to come and carry the cases down, nodding tersely for me to follow him.

Now. Right now. There was no choice but to follow him or be thrown over his shoulder again. I was well aware he would do it without hesitation, and if nothing else, I could cling to my dignity, no matter how tattered it was.

As I traipsed out after Arkadi, I was glad his rude brother wasn’t anywhere to be seen. The kind of mood I was in might have earned him another pop in the mouth.

Chapter 25 - Arkadi

It really did feel like I was running like the devil was on our asses. There was no reason to panic, but the idea that those men from the auction might be hunting Mila had me on edge. To the point, I was about to lose it on the next person who didn’t give me the answers I wanted to hear. I was already pissed about the plane situation.

While my uncle hadn’t returned to Moscow like he’d been ordered, some of my men did, so my plane was currently four hours away instead of just one. Not good enough. It would be faster to charter one, or hell, get on the first commercial flight out of Rome.

Hence why I was snapping at Mila to hurry the hell up so we could leave. I could see it upset her, and I should have calmed the fuck down, but the thought of some monster stalking my wife, trying to take her from me, had me running around like a hidden bomb was about to go off. I couldn’t defuse it, we just had to leave.

She was safe with me—no one or nothing would harm her when I was by her side. But there was nothing rational about the way I felt where she was concerned. She was top priority. With the amount of security at the airport, we’d probably be safest there for the moment. I just wanted out of Italy and far, far from the men who thought Mila was for sale.

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