Page 43 of The Bratva's Arranged Virgin Bride
With no time to explain, I could only grab a handful of her hair again, dragging her to me for another kiss that was full of promise. “I won’t be long,” I told her as I raced out the door.
She was already pissed at the lack of explanation, but the faster I dealt with the people who dared to break into my place,the faster I could return. As I raced toward the city, I was only grateful I had moved my favorite painting from my office the moment Vissarion came on board. That was safe from him and any bad luck that trailed in his wake.
The shopping center was already closed, and the main parking lot deserted. I breathed a sigh of relief to see that the big front windows hadn’t been smashed. Those were expensive as hell and a pain in the ass to replace. As soon as I walked through the back door of the gallery, Vissarion decked me, snapping my head back.
I roared with fury as I blinked to clear my vision from the surprise attack. Was this all a ruse to get some petty revenge for punching him last night? Because if so…
“Come with me,” he said, heading toward the front.
With my hand on my gun and fully expecting his minions to be there to try to finish me, I followed, snorting like an enraged bull.
No, it wasn’t a setup. The place was in tatters. Most of the paintings were gone, and the ones that remained were slashed. The antique benches I’d gone to a lot of trouble to source were knocked over, their delicately carved legs broken. The marble countertop had been spray-painted, and a corner of it had smashed off. Numbers were rolling through my head, the amount of money it would take to fix all this, even more, because it had to be done quickly.
Not so much fun anymore.
Now that we were even in terms of punches, Vissarion gave me a long look. “Your people did this.”
As angry as I was, and as unfunny as I found the situation, I laughed. “That’s as stupid as me accusing your people. What would be the point?”
He didn’t like me calling him what he was and sputtered. “To run me off, to send a message.”
I barely refrained from shouting at him to shut the hell up. “It was probably just ordinary LA criminals or idiotic, destructive kids.”
“They’ve stolen our paintings, ruined the ones they left behind,” he said, pacing and kicking at the broken bits of canvas on the floor.
Ourpaintings? Remaining calm, I reminded him that they had no real value. “I’ll just commission more. My artists are fast.”
“Give me their names and where they work. I’ll get some of my men to supervise and lean on them.”
Yeah, that wasn’t happening. Was this all about trying to find my sources? The lazy bastard thought he was going to take over when I dipped out, and he wanted to keep the grift going. Good fucking luck to him.
“I’m more concerned with getting this mess cleaned up and replacing that marble countertop in time.”
He stewed that I ignored his demand, but seemed resigned to the fact that I was right. Grabbing a broom, I started sweeping up the debris in silence. After a few tense moments, Visarrion began piling up the broken canvases to get them out of the way. As we worked, we continued bickering and lobbing threats, and then he asked much too calmly if I had been in contact with my brother.
I took it as a threat. “Leave him out of it.”
“Out of what?” he asked.
“Out of whatever you think you’re doing here.”
“Surely there’s room for all of us in this massive city?”
No, there wasn’t, and we stopped working, both of us waiting to see who would lash out first. Through our tense silence, I heard something. The sound of someone tampering at the back door. Great, another visit from a meddling Fokin. Swearing under my breath, I told Vissarion he’d get knocked out again if he followed me.
“Just let me take care of it,” I said, heading for the back with my hand on my gun. Oh damn it, I couldn’t actually shoot them, could I?
I was certain it was Nik again, possibly with the rowdy cousins in tow so they could finish the fight their more civilized relatives ended earlier that day. I was in the perfect mood for it.
Flinging open the door, I had my fist raised and ready to fly, savage glee oozing from my pores. I was absolutely ready to smash in the face of the first Fokin, who was unfortunate enough to be closest.
It was a Fokin standing there, all right, just not any of the ones I was expecting. Horrified, I jerked my hand back right before I could knock my wife into next week.
