Page 131 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

“Well,” I begin, “the man I slept with on a plane turned out to be my company’s biggest client. Then healsoturned out to be some kind of mafia don—”

“Bratva.”

I turn to him. “What?”

“It’s a Bratva,” he says. “Not a mafia.”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, whatever. Then my boss tried to assault me and I lost my job. Is that enough reason to assume the worst?”

“I think you’re skipping some highlights.”

“Like what?”

“Well, the airplane bathroom, for one. Then my office, the private plane we took here, the living room last night…"

“You’re disgusting,” I say, even as my face flushes.

I will never admit to him that those were highlights this last week. Because it doesn’t matter how earth-shatteringly good this man is in bed—my life has been chaos ever since he stepped into it.

I have to focus on Elise right now. She is my priority. She’s always my priority.

I look back down at the phone and curse. “Fuck, that was the turn!”

Nikolai slams on the brakes, throwing us both forward in our seats, and then swings the wheel hard to the left. The tires squeal and the car groans, but Nikolai makes the turn. As soon as the tires are straightened out, he sits back in his seat as if nothing happened.

I take a deep breath. “Are you trying to kill us?”

“Did you want me to get to your sister as fast as possible or not?”

I know he’s right, so I just slouch down in my seat and stare at the phone. As we get closer to the red dot, my stomach starts to twist into knots.

“If she’s hurt, I’ll never forgive myself,” I say softly.

I expect Nikolai to tell me to stop being such a worrywart, but instead, he reaches over and wraps his hand around my thigh. It’s more comfort than any words could ever be.

Which in and of itself is far too scary to think about right now.

The road climbs into a steep incline, nothing but the sky visible ahead of us. But as soon as we’re at the top, heading downhill again, I look down and see the black spot of Nikolai’s car up ahead.

On the side of the road.

Halfway through a wooden fence.

“Drive, drive,” I gasp, already unbuckling my seatbelt. “She crashed. Oh, fuck. What are we going to—Should I call someone? What if she’s—What is the number for 911 in Iceland?”

Nikolai parks and gets out of the car without another word. I scramble out after him, my heart lodged in my throat.

Gruesome images flash through my head. Elise injured or dying or… worse. A kind of fear I’ve never experienced before washes over me, and suddenly, I can’t bring myself to take another step.

If she’s—oh God, I can’t even bring myself to say the words.

I stop in the middle of the road, my shoes practically glued to the pavement. I watch in horror as Nikolai approaches the driver’s side door and then leans down to look through the window.

“Is she okay?” I call out, my voice trembling.

Nikolai stands up, half-smirking. “Unfortunately, this little debacle hasn’t changed her. She just flipped me off.”

Oh, thank God,is my first thought. Elise is fine. Elise is safe. Elise is okay.

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