Page 38 of The Bratva's Sextuplets
“You’re wrong,” I say finally, my voice carrying all the conviction I can muster. “You’re completely wrong about my motivations.”
“Then prove it.” She crosses her arms over her chest, the gesture pushing her torn blouse against her body in a way that reminds me how close she came to serious injury. “Prove this is about protection and not control by including me in your response planning.”
I shake my head. “I won’t put you in unnecessary danger to prove a point.”
“Fine, but I won’t be imprisoned in this house because you’d lose face if your enemies killed me. I’m something you never wanted in the first place.”
The accusation shocks me because it reveals how little she understands what’s changed between us. She doesn’t understand that she’s gone from being an obligation to being the most important thing in my world. “You think I don’t want you?” I step closer, backing her against the marble pillar that supports the main staircase. “You think my desire to protect you comes from duty rather than?—”
I cut myself off before I can finish the thought and admit something in front of an audience that makes me vulnerable in ways I’m not prepared to handle. Zita’s always been too intelligent for my comfort, and I see the moment she realizes what I almost said.
“Rather than what?” she challenges, her voice softer now but no less determined. “Rather than caring about me? Rather than the possibility that you might actually love your inconvenient wife?”
The question hangs between us like a grenade with the pin pulled. We’re both breathing hard and trembling with emotions neither of us is ready to name. Around us, the mansion’s staff and security personnel are pretending not to notice the domestic drama playing out in their presence.
“This conversation is over.” I step back from her and the dangerous territory we’re entering. “You’ll remain in this house under protection until I determine the threat has been neutralized. That’s not a request.”
Her eyes narrow. “What if I refuse?”
“Then I’ll have you physically restrained until you see reason.”
The threat is empty because I could never actually harm her, but she doesn’t know that. What she sees is the cold authority of a man accustomed to having his orders followed without question. Her father sees it too, because Claude gasps but still doesn’t try to intercede on his daughter’s behalf. He’s more afraid of me than he is protective of her. I’ve known that since he bargained her away in marriage to me at my father’s behest, but it’s still disgusting to have confirmation.
“You bastard,” she whispers, but there’s hurt beneath the anger now. “You absolute bastard.”
Without looking at her father, probably having already realized Claude won’t offer help or support, she turns and stalks toward the main staircase. I watch her go, noting the way she holds her shoulders straight despite the stress of the day and how she refuses to let anyone see her break even when she has every right to fall apart.
She’s extraordinary, she’s mine, and I’ll kill anyone who tries to take her away from me even if she hates me for protecting her.
“Boss?” Viktor speaks quietly, moving to stand beside me as Zita disappears up the stairs. “The security sweep of the house is complete. We found no surveillance devices, but we did discover something interesting.”
“What?”
“The boutique Zita visited today? They received a call this morning asking about her appointment. The caller claimed to be from your office, requesting confirmation of the time and duration of her visit.”
The information makes me freeze. Someone called ahead and used my name to gather intelligence about Zita’s schedule.They have enough knowledge of our operation to know which boutique she prefers and which assistant would be likely to answer such a call. It’s proof this was the work of a traitor. “An inside job.” I conclude, my voice deadly quiet.
“It has to be.”
I think about the people who have access to Zita’s schedule and know her preferences and routines well enough to predict her movements. The list is disturbingly short, and every name on it represents someone I trusted with my wife’s safety.
“Bring them all in for questioning. Start with the household staff and work outward. I want to know who sold my wife to the Federoffs, and I want to know tonight.”
“What about the immediate response to the attack itself?”
I turn away from the staircase where Zita disappeared as Claude returns to the SUV, clearly expecting a ride home. My mind shifts from husband toBratvaleader with the ease of someone who’s learned to compartmentalize his emotions.
“Double the perimeter guards. No one enters or leaves the property without my personal authorization.” I meet his gaze directly. “Put surveillance on Claude as well. If they were willing to target Zita directly, her father’s also at risk.”
“Already done.”
“Good.” I straighten my tie and move into the house as Viktor follows. “Let’s discuss exactly how we’re going to make Avgar Federoff regret the day he decided my wife was an acceptable target.”
I settle behind my desk to plan what will undoubtedly be a bloody response to this escalation, but I can’t shake the imageof Zita’s face when I threatened to have her restrained. The hurt beneath her anger, and the way she flinched as if I’d struck her are almost as devastating as knowing she was in danger to start with.
She accused me of wanting to control her, of seeing her as an inconvenience to be managed rather than a partner to be cherished. While her accusations are wrong about my motivations, they’re right about the effect. By trying to protect her, I’m becoming a husband she expected and feared.
The kind of husband her mother ran away from, and I don’t think she’ll hesitate to do the same if she gets the chance, since she believes I lied to her about being a partner and just want to control her.
