Page 81 of Brutal Vows

I walk out of his office, the wall of lies between us growing higher and higher.

38

MILANA

Ever since Luca guessed my secret and I finally opened up to him about Annushka—now Zoe Scalera—there have been several changes in him, and between us. I trust him with everything, and he seems to be one step ahead with all the arrangements.

It’s been days of to-do lists, things that need to line up like the stars for us to successfully pull this off.

The first was registering her birth on this side via dubious channels. I don’t mind the name change, and looking at it, it’s a must. I just have to get used to it. The further away we get from my own heritage, the better.

It’s a beautiful name, meaning life, and I wonder if Luca picked it because he is giving me my life back, and he is giving Annushka a chance at a life she’ll never have if she’s identified as Chertnikov’s grandchild. Maybe it’s a name he always loved and would have used for his own daughter, if he ever had one. I don’t even know if he wants children, and now, he’s saddled with mine. I refuse to feel guilty about it as he seems to be taking the whole situation in stride.

Luca spends most of his time down in the basement offices with Benedict, but I haven’t been trusted into that sacred space yet. Instead, the men come up for dinner and a debrief every night, keeping me abreast of everything they’re putting in place to make sure we return home with Annushka—Zoe—in one piece.

We all know getting into Russia isn’t going to be the problem. It’s getting out, with a baby we’re basically snatching away from whoever is surveilling Masha, that’s going to be our biggest headache.

Masha is in on our plans, but Luca insisted we keep her on a need-to-know basis. He doesn’t trust her like I do, because he doesn’t know her like I do. All our communication is still in code, because we’re not giving the game away. We’re now in a ‘theatre production,’ for which there are several acts. We’re in act one: auditions. Hopefully, whoever is listening in will think Masha is rehearsing her lines.

She sent us a photo of Zoe for fake passports. Luca gave it one look and joked when she’s older, he’s going to sit on his porch with a shotgun to ward off the boys, because she’s promising to be prettier than her mamma. I wanted to roll my eyes, but a sweet blush pushed to my cheeks at the same time. He can be borderline cute sometimes, and it’s a tonic against this stress ball we’re living in.

The whole scenario makes my gut twist tight with worry. I have no idea whether it’ll be easy or difficult to travel on fake passports, never mind with a baby. The last thing I want is to be detained for human trafficking, even if she’s my own child and I can prove it with DNA tests.

Luca has given me free rein to prepare the nursery. I’ve gone overboard, but it’s been keeping me busy and focused. Everything I couldn’t have ready for her with her birth, I’ve splurged on. The last few days have been a constant influx of my online orders, brought up by security once they’ve been through various checks. It breaks me to think that things could go so wrong that Ann—no, Zoe—might never get to wear these cute clothes, or sleep in her crib, or stare at the mobile I assembled earlier.

Now Luca walks into the apartment with Benedict, and I stop cutting price tags off the newest sets of baby onesies piling up on the kitchen counter.

Our gazes lock, and a small smile plays on his lips as he takes in the tiny pink tutu I couldn’t resist.

“Cute,” he murmurs, but his voice is so tired.

My husband hasn’t slept properly for days. He’s never here when I go to bed, and we both seem to drift in and out of sleep at night, meeting up in the kitchen at three in the morning, both woken by nightmares, past and future.

He hasn’t come to my room again, and there’s a yearning for him that’s caught me off guard. I want him to hold me. To touch me. To chase away my morbid thoughts and anxiety with gentle kisses all over my body, making me surrender to him in both body and mind. It was so easy with him, and just as I succumbed to him, I want him to succumb to me, to every pleasure I want to give. This dangerous thing we’re heading straight into put a new strain between us, and we’re both holding our breaths, our arranged marriage on hold.

“Any idea why Masha is asking us to bring half a million dollars in cash?” he asks without preamble.

This. This crazy amount of money, which I was hoping to lay hands on myself just a few weeks ago, now seems suspicious even to me.

“I don’t know. She said it’s for a prop she needs for the third act of our theater production. I have no clue what it is, but she’s up to something.”

We’ll end this once and for all. I shudder because I’m not a mind reader and Masha hasn’t told me anything. They say ignorance is bliss, but not when it comes to living in the Bratva. In my absence, things have changed with Masha. Something is brewing and I can’t put my finger on it. I can’t ask her directly, and the coded messages I have to dissect are not always clear. We dare not even speak over the phone, because somewhere, someone could be listening in.

“Okay. The cash isn’t the problem. It’s traveling with it that could raise red flags if something goes wrong. Also, do I understand right that there are two vans parked in Masha’s street now?” Luca asks. “More surveillance?”

“Yes.” Her messages came through earlier today. “Something’s changed.” And I can’t stomach it.

“There’s been no more news of Varya,” Benedict says. “I’ve been trying to find leads, but there’s nothing.”

“Nobody has seen her for days.” A spider seems to crawl down my back. “We should assume the worst.”

Another person dead, because of me, and who knows how she died, because I can’t even fathom what they would have done to Varya before finally giving up…or before she finally gave my secret away.

“It could be because Masha has been back to the hunting lodge? It’s suspicious?” Luca asks.

“Not if she’s planning to renovate it,” Benedicts says. “What is she doing there in any case? The place looks derelict at best.”

It’s the story she’s been selling to us, but I don’t buy it. Going to the lodge takes Annushka away from the safety of the apartment, giving others opportunity to take photos and sending them to Ivan, upping the pressure on me.