Page 36 of Hateful Vows
It annoys me to no end to have to protect myself like this but the taunting game the person who wants me dead is playing is too dangerous to take unnecessary risks. Especially if it puts Irina’s life on the line.
She’s in the dressing room of a high-end boutique and I’m sipping champagne when the energy around us shifts. The light fixtures illuminate the space with soft glow, yet when he enters, everything takes on a darker edge. It’s more delicious than the expensive bubbles on my tongue.
I take a peek as he approaches, his hands in the pockets of his navy suit a fake nonchalance. His eyes shift to each corner of the shop, quickly analysing all entrances and exits, the number of employees and the potential threats.
They narrow at the sales assistant coming in to offer him a glass of champagne. Her hands tremble but her smile stays plastered to her face, her eyes never straying from his.
Me on the other hand? Oh, I take my time devouring his sharp features and angry scars, the way the spider tattoo moves with every swallow and his jaw ticks with displeasure.
“It’s just champagne, pretty boy. Stand down and enjoy the show. Irina’s about to come out.”
He raises a brow but takes the glass offered and sits next to me, on the other side of the comfortable sofa. His quiet obedience is the sweetest drug.
“Where’s your wife?” I ask, a pang of guilt at how I’ve ignored Lucie. She moved back to London from France because of my deal with the Russians, without complaint, and I haven’t even taken the time to visit her. I vow to remedy that.
“I’m done,” Irina says when she comes out, stopping short. “What ishedoing here?”
“He needs a fitting, too,” I supply.
“I don’t,” Aleksei retorts.
“Come on, pretty boy. Indulge me. I know you Russians like to invest all your hard earned blood money. Let this be my treat.” I stand and prowl to Irina, kissing her cheek. “You look gorgeous in black,sposa mia.”
“Better to hide the blood,” Aleksei and Irina respond in unison before frowning deeper.
I laugh and they turn their glare to me but I don’t give a shit. It’s obvious to me they’re trying their hardest to hate each other, and I’m sure they have a good reason, but it doesn’t fit my designs.
Especially as we move to the next boutique, specialised custom-made suits. Aleksei looks ravishing in the dark burgundy color. It highlights his mismatched eyes. I’m not the only one who thinks so since Irina hasn’t made a single mean comment as the tailor takes Aleksei’s measurements.
“This doesn’t mean I owe you,” he says when we part ways.
“Of course not,Tesoro.”
The endearment comes out unbidden but I don’t try to make it better, simply taking in Aleksei’s reaction. He tenses but doesn’t ask, and my devious little plan gets clearer.
Suddenly, something wheezes in the air and fire lances through my neck, where it meets my shoulders.
“Get down!” Aleksei screams and pushes me to the ground, his frame protecting me from the next bullet that almost hits the back of his head.
“Get Irina inside,” I scream back.
“Ilia got her.”
We take cover inside the boutique we just left. Gun in hand, I scan our surroundings for the threat. I don’t see shit, but I also don’t linger.
Crimson covers my fingers when I press them to the wound at my neck, but it’s just a graze. It was one of my favourite shirts, fucking dammit.
“Everyone, get in the back,” one of my bodyguards tells the boutique staff who look like they’re a breath away from crying or puking or both. Tino and Lorenzo scan the street from the front of the boutique while my last man calls for reinforcements.
“Put me down, you overgrown beast,” Irina tells Ilia who drops her back down from his shoulder.
I stampede to him and grab his throat. His eyes bulge but he remains still. “Touch my wife again, and I’ll take your fucking hands.” I point an accusing finger to Aleksei. “And you. The next time you prioritise my life over hers will be your last day on this fucking Earth, is that clear?”
“She wasn’t the one in danger,” he says and I see red. I’m about to pummel into him when a delicate hand stops me, and I hiss when she connects with the lesion there.
“Dante, you’re hurt? Why do I have to take care of everything in this goddamn family? Sit the fuck down. Ilia, get the first aid kit,” Irina orders.
She slipped. She said we’re family. The loss of blood must make me delirious.
