Page 87 of Savage Vows
It’s obvious from the way Adriana keeps her head down that she heard every word. I was supposed to confront her, to ask her where she’d been, but she’s already vanished down the hall before I can say a thing.
Liam stands, stretching. “Can I crash in the guest bedroom tonight? I don’t feel like dealing with Dad or the drama back at the house.”
I nod. “Go ahead. You know where everything is.”
He grabs his bag and disappears down the hall, leaving me alone in the living room, the silence settling thick around me.
My phone buzzes. I pick it up, the screen showing Eddie’s number.
I answer, voice low. “Yeah?”
His voice is tense. “I found out what you asked. But you’re not going to like it.”
I pace the kitchen, frustration building. “Spill it.”
He doesn’t answer right away. “Check the folder I just sent you. It’s all there.”
The line clicks dead before I can say another word. My heart thuds as I open my email, the subject line glowing at the top of the inbox: VOLKOV – PRIVATE REQUEST.
For a long moment, I just stare at it, knowing whatever’s inside will change everything.
I open the folder and start sifting through the documents. At first, it’s just the usual background details. Old addresses, bank records, school enrollment forms. Then I see it—a scanned press badge,The Herald, dated three years ago. The name on the badge is different. It says A. Voltskaya, but the photo is Adriana, younger, her hair shorter.
The subject matter is nothing like the fluff pieces most interns write. Missing women, police misconduct, city corruption, a long-form story about the aftermath of a club raid.
I recognize the name of the club instantly. Serrano’s club. My eyes scan the byline again. Adriana was the one who broke the story. She’s the reason Serrano went down. She’s the reason the cops raided the club in the first place.
I lean back, memory replaying that night with painful clarity. I was at Serrano’s club, waiting for him, handling business as usual. I’d taken the back way to his lounge, impatient with all the noise and crowd. I remember walking down the dark hallway, on my way to get things moving.
There was a girl leaning against the wall, half her face hidden by her hair, wearing a dress that didn’t belong there. I glanced at her once, barely paid attention. Just another woman bored with the party. I kept walking, never thinking twice.
There’s no denying it. My wife is responsible for bringing down one of my business partner’s operations, one that was bringing in a shit ton of money for me.
It should make me angry—she cost me a fortune and a business partner—but instead, something in me breaks loose and I start to laugh.
I laugh because it’s ridiculous. All the careful deals, all the quiet threats, all the power plays to keep my father satisfied, and the person who undid one of my biggest earners is the woman I wake up next to every morning. I laugh at the picture of her in my mind from that hallway, notebook hidden in her purse, looking small and harmless while Serrano’s guards strutted past her. I laugh at myself for never putting the pieces together, for marrying a Petrova who turned out to be a reporter with sharper teeth than half the men on my payroll.
The amusement lingers even after the laughter fades. There’s something almost admirable about the size of her secret. She walked straight into a nest of criminals, took notes, and brought the whole place down without blinking.
Only a fool would underestimate her again—and I’m done being that fool.
25
ADRIANA
I crash into a solid chest,half blind with panic. The man steps aside, and behind him stands Julianne.
For a heartbeat I can’t breathe. Then I grab her arms. “What are you doing here?”
Julianne’s eyes are huge. “I saw you with Bella earlier. I thought I was seeing things.” Her voice shakes. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere and I was starting to lose hope.”
“Oh my God,” I whisper. I pull her into a tight hug. She clings to me, and for a moment the noise of the street fades. All I feel is her heartbeat racing against mine.
When I finally let her go, I observe that she’s wearing an oversized hoodie. I’ve never seen my sister dressed so shabbily. And did she wince when I hugged her? Or was I just imagining things.
We find a café where the lights are warm and the smell of fresh coffee settles my nerves. We choose a corner booth away from the windows. Only then do I notice the man who followed her in.Early thirties, neat beard, wary eyes that never stop scanning the room.
Julianne hooks her arm through his. “This is Luka,” she says, voice firm. “My boyfriend. The one I left with.”
