Page 25 of The Payback

He side-steps that accusation like a pro and continues. “And went to a dive bar.”

“To gather intel.”

“At adive bar!” he roars, his sudden volume shocking me. “Where anyone could have grabbed you.”

Anger spears through me. “What? You think I haven’t been trained for that? That I’ve just been sitting on my ass, waiting to be a pretty, shiny trophy wife?”

“Keep your voice down,” he orders in a clipped tone.

Hypocrite.

It makes me want to wring his beautiful neck. Nik must be here somewhere. Fucking hell, we can’t even argue like a normal married couple.

“I was fine,” I say in a softer voice. “And Anastasia and I had a good talk.”

“Good, but you have to realise the target on your back. The driver I assigned to you is a guard. And when you ditch him, you’re vulnerable.”

I nod, understanding that this is more than just protecting his wife. He’s protecting his future. And the briefs did mention the dangers this role presented. But connecting with Anastasia was more critical, and garnering some trust on day two was an opportunity I couldn’t miss.

“Noted. But maybe next time, remember that I am trained.” I roll my eyes and head towards the kitchen to get some water. Why does vodka always make me thirsty?

Before I can make it four steps, Dimitri’s glass clinks on a hard surface, and his arm bands around my middle. His hard body presses against me from behind.

“You cannot do that again.”

I scoff, fighting off the warmth pooling low in my belly. “I could tell you I won’t, but I’d be lying.”

His arm tightens around me, and his fingers thread into my hair, baring my neck to him. He presses a kiss at the pulse point, and my eyes close as the warmth spreads through me.

“And I’ll punish you for it every time,” he whispers against my skin. “For putting what’sminein danger.”

I’ve neverbeenanyone’s and don’t intend to be. Aside from Olivia’s best friend and now Bella’s mum, I am my own. And it’s high time this asshole learns it doesn’t make me his just because we’re married.

There’s a muffled sound in the kitchen, and my eyes slide to the closed double doors. Since my arrival last night, they’ve been thrown wide, creating an open and inviting space in the penthouse, but right now, I know what I find behind those doors will change everything.

My intuition adds a healthy dose of fear, and I freeze.

“What’s going on in there?” I ask quietly.

Dimitri’s reply is quiet against my neck, his lips never losing contact with my fevered skin. “Retribution.”

The sound comes again, and Dimitri nudges me forward. I shakily put one foot in front of the other, the man never allowing distance between us as my steps eat up the distance between us and the door.

I pause with my hand on the bar to slide the divider open. Dimitri’s palm lands on my fingers, and he puts pressure around my clammy digits and slides it open for us.

A man I don’t know is strapped to a chair at the breakfast nook, his hands yanked behind his back and black cords crisscrossed around his chest and legs. His face is bloody and broken, teeth littering the floor at his feet, and rivulets of blood stream from his hairline down his face from a deep gash.

A movement to my left draws my attention, and Nik is standing at the counter with a butcher’s knife in his hand. He waves it in my direction. “Oh, hello.”

It’s one thing to know violence happens—to think of it as some arbitrary and undefined thing in the world. It’s entirely different when you witness it happening at the kitchen table. My vision blackens at the edges, and I fight off the nausea roiling in my stomach.

“What the fuck?” I ask, letting some of my authentic self bleed into the façade.

“This, dear wife, is what happens to those who threaten what’s mine,” Dimitri says, putting a scant few inches between us and moving to stand at my side.

Nik takes a step forward, and I keep my composure—aside from a twitch in my hand, which he notices. “This dick followed you and Ana to the bar. Igor grabbed him before he made it in the door.”

“Who’s Igor?” I ask.

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