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“He’s not in right now.”
“Dominik!” I shout. He flinches but stands his ground. “My mom is going to have more questions, and I need to figure out what to say. Are we saying Natascha was murdered? Are the police involved?”
“Why on earth would the police be involved?”
Spoken like a true criminal.
“For God’s sake, Dom—Arsen’s wife was murdered. The police need to be involved.”
“This is Bratva business, Laila. We handle things in-house.”
“Except Arsen isn’t ‘in house.’ He’s busy doing dangerous, cryptic mafia bullshit. And I’m stranded here, eight months pregnant with his child, trying to keep his secrets—which are really stacking up, by the way!” I massage away the headache forming in my temples. “I should’ve never agreed to any of this.”
“The time to change your mind has passed, Laila.” His voice is gentle but firm. “He lied, yes—but he was trying to protect you.”
“Do you always speak for him?” I scowl. “Or does he ever show up to speak for himself?”
“Nope. It’s just the two of us.” Gedeon strolls into the room and takes up a stance at Dom’s side. “Dominik speaks for Arsen half of the time, and I pick up the other fifty percent.”
Eyes narrowing, I converge on Arsen’s two henchmen. “That’s not going to work for me. None of this is. Go tell your boss that he may be a dangerous man and you clowns may run around on his behalf like chickens with your heads cut off, but I’m not scared of him. Tell him that he can’t avoid me forever. Iwilltalk to him. Or else.”
Or else what? I have no idea.
Sure sounds good, though.
But before Dominik can laugh at me or either of them can grab me by the arms and toss me in whatever dungeon Arsen no doubt has hidden beneath his mansion, I storm out of the room.
I’m only halfway down the hallway when I hear their hushed voices behind me.
“This is gonna be a disaster,” Dominik sighs.
“There’s nothing we can do,” Gedeon replies. “His mind is made up.”
Yeah,I think to myself sadly.That’s what I’m worried about.
“Roza…”
I can’t be dreaming. I just managed to find a comfortable position and I’ve only barely started drifting off. Which apparently was the cue for this deep, sensual voice to start murmuring in my ear…
I hug the pillow tighter, praying like hell Arsen will think I’m sleeping and go away.
Earlier today, I wanted to talk to him.
Now, all I can think about is him climbing into bed next to me, curling his strong, warm frame around me better than any pregnancy pillow ever could. Which means I need him to leave. Now. Before my hormone-addled body makes the crucial mistake of letting Arsen too close.
“Wake up,roza. You’re needed downstairs.”
I squeeze my eyes tighter.Go away. Go away. Go aw?—
“Hey!” I croak, blinking my eyes open as the comforter is ripped off and the pillow under my head goes with it.
Arsen is standing beside my bed, blanket in his fist, his eyes raking up and down my body.
Cheeks flaming, I try to snatch back the sheets so I can hide the fact that I’m currently wearing a billowy white t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants—clothes I’m fairly certain belong to Arsen.
Yesterday evening’s snooping led me to another room and another cabinet stuffed to the brim with neatly folded, unworn clothes. Sweatpants and sweaters and t-shirts and socks. It’s like he found one outfit he liked and bought enough for a lifetime. I can’t even blame him—these sweats are buttery soft. It’s why I couldn’t resist taking one set for myself.
“Do you have some weird fetish for waking women up in the middle of the night or something?”
