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He used his serious voice, the boss of all bosses one. He was for real. Viking dropped onto the couch and closed his eyes. It felt as if there were tiny humans doing construction in his brain.
“A week to do what?”
“To get married.”
“Funny.” When no reaction came, he gave Kristoff a sideways glance. “You’re not joking.”
Kristoff got up and straightened his jacket. “How long have you known me?”
“Too long and not long enough,” he answered honestly.
“What happens when I joke?”
“Someone usually dies.” It was a thing the guys had noticed. They joked about it and even placed bets on it.
“Marriage will give you stability. Even if it doesn’t, it will at least make you look more stable on the outside. I can’t have the Sokolov deal going wrong. Find a woman in seven days, or I’ll find one for you. I heard Sokolov’s looking for high-end Bratva men for his nieces. You’re my second-in-command and fit his profile. Either marry one of his nieces or a woman off the street. Either way, do it within a week.”
“You telling me as my friend or my boss?”
“Both. Just do it.”
“Fine. You choose one of them, I don’t care.” It didn’t matter which of Sokolov’s nieces he ended up marrying; it was all the same to him.
“One Bratva bride, coming up. Consider yourself engaged.”
With those loving words, Kristoff left.
Viking didn’t waste any more time pondering his engagement by proxy. It was just a marriage of convenience to tighten their ties to Sokolov. He’d deal with it later.
Right now he had more pressing issues to deal with. Like finding a venomous snake and cut off her head. He sent a message to Damon to locate her ASAP. There wasn’t anyone their top enforcer couldn’t find.
I’m coming for you, Elena.
And there will be hell to pay.
CHAPTER 5
ELENA
It was the cold that woke her up. Icy fingers licking at her bare skin that was touching the tile floor. The only light in the room was a light bulb in the upper right corner, that looked as if it could die any minute. She wished it were dark, because the faint light showed her specks of brown on the wall she recognized as dried blood.
Elena closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. She had expected Pedro to be angry when he couldn't find Vicky, but she hadn’t expected him to do this. She imagined his footprint was imprinted onto her back.
Every breath jarred her aching body, so she wrapped her arms around her middle to keep the pain at bay. Then she did what she did whenever life dealt her a bad hand of cards—she concentrated on the positive. For starters, and most importantly, her being in here meant that Pedro still hadn’t gotten his hands on Vicky. If he had, he wouldn't need her as leverage anymore. Second, and even thinking about it gave her a stomachache, she could only presume this meant Vicky had found her real father.
Just the thought of him hurt. It was like glass cutting her over and over again. She knew how important family was to him. He'd practically raised his little brother while being a teenager himself. She remembered finding out she was carrying his child at eighteen. Being terrified and excited at the same time. They had never talked about it, but she knew he wanted it all—the white picket fence, two-point-five kids, and even a dog. In their harsh world it was the ultimate dream to escape the slums and just be together. When she'd been with him, everything had seemed right. Viking had always been her biggest support, her protector. Until he’d gotten himself thrown into jail. Until she’d caught the eye of Lorenzo Morelli and everything had gone to shit.
Her throat clogged up, and she wiped away her tears. Viking would love their daughter—how could he not?—and keep her safe. In the end, that was all that mattered.
When the sound of arguing voices reached her, she tried to cover herself up. However, no matter how small she made herself, it was impossible. Never before had she felt this vulnerable.
The door opened, and Elena braced herself. She hid all emotion from her face, refusing to give Pedro the joy of seeing her fear.
A man in his late twenties, wearing a pair of black slacks and a white button-down shirt stood in the doorway. His leather jacket cracked when he crossed his arms before his chest. Next to him stood a stockier guy, in ripped jeans and a hoodie. His eyes lacked any expression, whereas the first guy’s disdain couldn’t be missed. They must be some of Pedro’s new men. The second Lorenzo died, he’d taken over the estate, putting his trustees everywhere.
Leather Guy whistled. “Well, look at that. The legendary Elena Morelli.”
“Stay the hell away from me.” She felt weary, as if she’d been held captive for ages. The lack of sunlight messed with her head, making her lose any sense of time.
