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Footage from the home the guys actually do own in Alaska has shown masked, armed men trying to infiltrate the property twice already and Lev has had to leave a fake trail, showing Dimi and I traveling across the world, just to stop them from realizing we’re not there.
Both Dimi and the staff have been calling me Mrs. Belova since I got here, but I hadn’t realized that, that’s not even my real fake married name. Nope, apparently on my first fake wedding certificate I’m Mrs. Dimitri Galen, the wife of a billionaire, sixth generation Russian immigrant. Dimitri Galen, my fake husband, owns a law firm in New York, but we fake live in Alaska where he’s semi-retired and enjoying the spoils of his successful business with me, his fake wife at his side.
At this point I have so many fake names, fake husbands, and fake lives that I’m finding it almost impossible to keep up with all the lies. But the guys don’t seem fazed, they just keep assuring me that the island we live on is untraceable and even if it was found, there’s nothing that links it to them or any of their forged or real identities. But the longer this goes on, the more tense I become.
My men started their plan to destroy the Bratva long before they kidnapped me and brought me here. For over a year, they’ve been gradually destroying each string in the Mafia’s bow, and now that the Bratva’s operations are being challenged on every front by men stronger, richer, and more powerful than them, they’re scrambling for money to hold up the foundation that the guys have been slowly rotting out from beneath them.
Apparently, my sperm donor trusted his closest advisers about as much as he trusted the rest of his family; who he murdered one by one to prevent them from ever trying to usurp him. So now that he’s dead, Orlov, who was his second in command, doesn’t know how to get access to the offshore assets he thinks will save his newly acquired empire.
What he doesn’t know is that the guys discovered and drained all of the hidden account before Grigoriy Polakoff even breathed his last breath. There’s no mountain of money, no floating door to save him. There’s only death, he just doesn’t know it yet.
“He’s agreed,” Dimi announces as he strides out to the pool where I’m lounging and Lev is swimming.
“Who’s agreed?” I ask.
“Orlov. He’s agreed to the meet.”
“Really?” I gasp.
“When?” Lev asks, pulling himself out of the pool, his muscles flexing as he strains.
“In three days.”
“Three days, that’s okay, everything is set, I’ll start letting people know,” Vik says, leaning down to kiss me before he strides purposefully away.
“Your drinks,” Tanya says, holding a tray with four glasses on.
“Thanks,” Dimi says dismissively.
Her eyes find me and a faint scowl twists her expression. One moment she’s placing a glass on the table beside me, the next, the entire tray of red berry smoothies is all over me, the cold, thick substance coating me from the neck down.
“What the hell?” Lev yells, grabbing a towel to clean me up.
“I’m so sorry,” Tanya cries. “The tray was wet and the glasses slid, let me help you.”
“No,” I snap. “I’m fine. I’ll go shower this off.” I swear she smirks as she collects the spilled glasses and scurries away.
I haven’t told the guys about how much of a hostile bitch Tanya has become. She never says anything directly to me, but I see the way she glares and scowls at me. More than once, I’ve found my things missing or destroyed, but whenever the guys question what’s happened, it all seems like an accident or coincidence.
Tanya isn’t the first bitchy woman I’ve dealt with, but she is the first one I’ve been forced to share an island with. I’ve been considering talking to the guys and suggesting they let her leave, but even though she hates me being here and clearly wants to snag my men for her own, this is her home. I’m also a little worried that if I tell them she’s bugging me, they’ll kill her, and I don’t need anyone else’s death on my conscience.
I’m hoping she’ll eventually get over this grudge she has against me, in the meantime, she’s not violent, and there’s been no hints she plans to steal my skin and wear it to pretend to be me, so ignoring her makes the most sense.
I’m barely in the bathroom before Lev appears. He takes his duty as my personal dresser and undresser seriously, and my bikini is on the floor in the blink of an eye. Lev follows me into the shower, reaching for the soap and squeezing it into his hand. Carefully, he washes all the remnants of the sticky drink from me, then shampoos and conditions my hair, making sure all of the chlorine is washed away.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine. Glad this thing with Orlov is almost over, but…” I trail off.
“Are you worried?”
“Yes,” I admit.
“Orlov can’t get to you here, that’s why we brought you to our island, to keep you safe,” he says, cupping my cheeks and leaning down to press a soft, reassuring kiss to my wet lips.
“But Dimi and Vik aren’t going to be here, they’re going to be in Alaska,” I say, hearing the panic in my voice. I haven’t told them yet, it’s been hard enough to accept it myself, but I’ve fallen hard for my three captors. They never gave me a choice, their constant affection, attention, and obsession has forced my hate to change and grow.
I’m never alone, never given an ounce of space, and I like it. I like the family we’ve become and the thought of watching them leave me, knowing they’re going to be in danger, is terrifying.
