Page 4 of The Bratva King's Auctioned Bride

“Who is that with her?”

“That’s going to have to stay my little secret, Arkadi,” he said.

That should have piqued my curiosity about his latest antics, but I was laser-focused on Mila. I had seen her a few times before, at her father’s restaurant in Beverly Hills. She was silly and vapid and a spoiled princess who never had to work a day in her life.

And also ridiculously gorgeous. Blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, lush curves, a brilliant smile in the direction of the blurred-out person beside her. Exquisite. Kolya was wrong about her not being a rare work of art.

I swiped the photo away in disgust, remembering she was a part of the family I despised the most in the world. My undoing and my downfall. I had spent so much wasted time thinking the key to destroying the Fokins was the youngest brother’s new bride, but I was wrong. Now I understand my mistake was not going for the biggest prize of all.

The sister they all adored and would do anything for. Give up anything for.

Getting my hands on Mila would mean I could make any demand I wanted, get all of my holdings in LA back, and, best of all, humiliate the hell out of those damn Fokins. And for some reason, I couldn’t explain, that had nothing to do with any of that, I just wanted to get my hands on her.

Bringing Mila’s picture back up, I studied her unknowing smile, barely listening to my brother rambling. Whoever she was with was unimportant. This was the golden opportunity I’d been waiting for.

Mila Fokin was going to be mine.

I abruptly ended the call with Kolya, telling him to keep me informed of my prey’s whereabouts. I still hadn’t started the car, and was no longer interested in blowing off any steam at a club. I was charged to head in another direction now. My paranoid uncle stuck his head out of the bar again and stormed over, demanding to know why I was still hanging around.

“News from Kolya,” I said. “I’m leaving for Milan first thing tomorrow morning.”

“You haven’t seen your brother in over a year. You can’t drop everything for a visit now, not when we have the shipment coming up.” He flailed his arms as he reminded me how he’d been working on gaining this group’s trust since before I returned to Russia. “They’ve been jumpy from the start, and only agreed because you’re involved now. The deal will fall through if you don’t show up.”

This deal was huge, so Eldar wasn’t overreacting about possibly losing all those guns and the money they would bring. I could only focus on my revenge—and Mila—and no longer cared about the millions we’d miss out on.

“You’re forgetting about the other men involved,” Eldar said, after I briefly explained how important this was.

“This is Mila Fokin,” I repeated. “The chance to get everything back.”

He grumbled, but his mercenary heart wouldn’t let him forget how great a blow it was to lose so much in LA. “Listen to me,” he said, holding tight to my car door as if he could keep me from speeding toward my goal. “I’ll fly to Milan tonight. I won’t let the girl out of my sight. She’ll be there when you arrive,afterthe deal here goes down.”

It was a mere three days, but it seemed like an eternity separating me from what I desired. Needed more than I needed this arms deal. But Eldar was right about the men who’d jumped on board with their allegiance when I returned after such a long absence. It would be wrong to make them miss out on their cut, and it might needlessly cause a rift.

“Fine,” I said, begrudgingly agreeing to do things his way. “But don’t screw up. I need this woman.”

Understatement of the year, right there. Getting Mila Fokin under my control would change everything.

Eldar scowled at me for daring to doubt him. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of her.”

Chapter 3 - Mila

Nat wasn’t exaggerating about how cute my new apartment in Milan was. It was tiny, but bright and airy, with high ceilings and tall windows hung with gauzy curtains and loads of trailing plants I hoped I could keep alive. The walls were a cool, pale taupe, scattered with black and white photos of the trendy neighborhood and the surrounding lakes and mountains. If I opened the windows in the morning, I was greeted with the scent of fresh bread from the bakery two doors down and the sounds of busy people running to catch their buses.

I absolutely loved it, and as much as I adored Nat’s company, it was necessary to have my own space if I was going to be serious about getting this new business underway. It was a well-established company, but my brother made sure to replace all the old employees, so all of us were starting out fresh. There was no time for long leisurely lunches with Nat and her artsy friends since I spent the first week in meetings and touring the quarry. By nightfall, I was exhausted and still had plenty to pore over so I could be prepared for the next round of meetings, so I kept putting off my niece’s invitations to her favorite clubs.

She did finally entice my nose away from the grindstone when she waved two tickets to a fashion show under it.

“I already spoke to your assistant, and I know you don’t have a meeting tomorrow at this time.”

She handed her phone to me, displaying pictures of the designer’s current line. The dresses were crisp and monochromatic, accessorized with jaunty hats and oversized bags that gave a playful feel to the futuristic designs.

I had been so busy and so focused on sinks and floor tiles that I completely forgot I was in one of the fashion capitals of theworld. Just looking at photos from the last runway show gave me a cozy, warm feeling, tinged with excitement, like going home after a vacation that lasted a little too long.

“Okay, fine,” I sighed, adding the show to my packed calendar.

I even pushed aside the paperwork so we could rummage through my closet and put together outfits for both of us. A huge box had just arrived the day before, so my wardrobe was almost completely transferred to my new home. Nat, who mostly wore black leggings or dark jeans and chic but simple sweaters or baggy t-shirts, tended to tease me for my love of clothes. But not too much, because she knew I’d go in on the massive stack of half-finished canvases at her own place.

We ended up cracking open a bottle of wine, and Nat fell asleep on my couch, hurrying off to her class in the morning while I logged into my first meeting. The morning dragged on more than usual, but we met up again before the show to catch glimpses of the models arriving and to see if we recognized anyone from LA in the crowd.

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