Page 69 of The Russian Pakhan's Forced Bride
While things have improved between us in most ways, her hot-and-cold attitude has persisted, and I still can’t fully wrap my head around it.
After a moment, I glance at her again and keep my tone light as I murmur, “Is the food not to your liking?”
Victoria doesn’t look up at me. “It’s fine.”
Obviously, it isn’t fine, but I don’t press. As much as I want to believe our recent bonding has been a salve to our previous issues, I can’t ignore how this has been the situation more often than not.
Just when I think I’ve earned her trust and managed to bring us closer to being an actual couple, she pulls back again.
Part of me wonders if it’s me…
Rather, it has to do with the secrets I can’t reveal to her, or the way I operate things at work. As open as I am about my business with her, I can’t divulge every detail, which forces me to dance around certain topics.
As much as I don’t want to hide anything from her, there’s a glaring topic that has been weighing on me recently, and I have the feeling she may have picked up on it already.
I received absolute confirmation just a few days ago that she is Viktoria Nikolaev…or at least, she used to be.
Mikhail pulled some strings and got his hands on some old medical records that were collecting dust somewhere. The files of her family members helped to paint a better picture, and all of the pieces have fallen into place.
Apparently, the Nikolaevs came to Las Vegas even before my family, and my father happened to be in cahoots with them.
When a deal went sour, my father killed theirs, and as a result, their mother fled. According to the records, both Maxim and Victoria were placed in various homes before they were split up, and along the way, her name was Americanized, hence the confusion. She was far too young to remember her family.
As made-up as it sounds to me, there’s no denying it. No avoiding it.
Our families have been entangled for years, and in some strange twist of fate, I managed to marry the lost Nikolaev princess.
And I still haven’t told her. I don’t know when or how to…or what that truth would do to her.
She has already known enough pain surrounding her upbringing…Can I really bring more into her life?
Over the last few days, I’ve been contemplating just how much I’m willing to expose her to my world, if I should tell her everything or keep her away from it for her own safety.
I keep leaning towards the latter, but in a way, it still doesn’t feel right.
Eventually, when Victoria decides she has had enough, I pay the bill without mentioning the amount of food left on her plate.
Instead, I guide her outside, keeping a hand pressed against the small of her back. She stiffens under my touch, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by me.
With nightfall setting in, the city awakens with its bustle and neon signs as we get into the back of the SUV.
The drive is quiet and just as prickly as before, but again, I keep my thoughts to myself, even if I should be sharing them with her.
As the driver stops at a red light, I catch his questioning glance through his mirrors, but he doesn’t say anything.
Then, he continues through once the light changes, and that confusion doesn’t leave him.
Once he hits the open highway, that’s when the squeal of tires surrounds us, and the gunfire begins.
Those loud pops echo behind us, causing the driver to swerve as the adrenaline kicks in.
I glance behind us, feeling Victoria clenching up beside me.
Trailing us, a chromed-out sports car fires at us, ricocheting bullets off the armored vehicle. Right behind them, another follows, creating somewhat of a convoy.
When my eyes meet Victoria’s to see the confusion and raw fear in her eyes, reality sets in at once, kicking my instincts into overdrive.
Despite the chase, the driver keeps moving, focusing on the road ahead while picking up the speed to maintain some distance.
