Page 20 of The Bratva’s Stalked Pregnant Bride

Every day that went by without sight of him, I relaxed. I still got bizarre tingles when I thought of the kiss, but that time without him around, breathing fire down everyone’s necks, I was able to stuff it further into the background and somewhat concentrate on work.

He must have been giving orders from home or wherever he was, because the bar was once again being built in its original spot. There was definitely a little muttering from the construction guys, but I kept my mouth shut, not showing any glee at all at my victory. And Mik was right. They only grumbled about the new boss being a pain in the ass, but hey, it was a paycheck.

“Delivery out back, Laurel,” someone called down the hall into my office.

I checked the schedule to see that the wines from Canyon Vines were being delivered today. I was bummed that my choices wouldn’t be part of the order, but if Mik ever came back to work, I was still determined to wear him down.

The truck backed into the loading zone behind the restaurant, and I waved Chance back inside. “They’ll bring it in,” I said. “I just need to check it all off, don’t worry about me.”

Since the drivers for the trucking company that the winery used were independent contractors, I had no worries at all about the delivery guy being anyone who’d recognize me. The young man on the passenger side jumped down and trotted around to swing open the truck doors for me, then dropped the ramp, waving to the stack of crates inside.

The first thing I saw were the names of the wines stamped on the distinctive Canyon Vines crates. There were the ones I hadn’t been too thrilled with, but there were also three boxes of my Sauvignon Blanc that Mik made a big deal out of not ordering.

I squealed out loud and clapped my hands with happiness, wondering if my grouchy boss actually had a sense of humor. This certainly couldn’t mean anything other than some kind of joke at my expense. He wasn’t being sweet all along, was he? Or what if he secretly ordered them after that kiss?

Time to come back down to earth. It was nothing like that; he was just trying to get under my skin up in Napa, as usual. I didn’t miss it, did I? Once the wine crates were on the ground, I checked everything off and signed, then the guy did something strange. He tossed the list into the truck through the passenger window and took off like a shot down the alley and out of sight.

I watched him go, not a single clue why he acted like that, and didn’t notice the driver was right behind me when I turned around.

Black hair, eyes shooting darts of anger at me. A hand reaching out to grip my arm and yank me behind the truck, out of sight of the back door. Everything rushed back, like I was never free at all. I wasn’t in LA anymore, but at the house on the vineyard property.

I blinked, certain I was wrong and freaking out over being grabbed. Maybe something was wrong with my signature? But no, it was really Rand. I opened my mouth to scream for someone to get out there, but he slapped his palm over my mouth.

“Laurel,” he said calmly. “Shut the fuck up.”

He never yelled if anyone was around. People were so close, just inside the restaurant. I jerked my head to the side and let out a pathetic squeak before his other hand was around my neck, his body pinning me against the truck.

“Do you think you can leave me like you did and then order wine from my vineyard? Show up there with some other man?”

I shook my head again, but not violently. To make him understand it wasn’t like that. His palm was mashed so hard over my mouth I could taste blood from where he jammed my lower lip against my teeth. This couldn’t be happening. No, it wasn’t happening. I’d make it stop happening.

Closing my eyes, I cast around for a good memory. None came. Instead of Rand, it was now my father leaning over me, telling me exactly how much he wished I’d never been born. My mother ignored him until he said he didn’t think I was really his daughter. Then she exploded with rage, and they were fighting like cats and dogs, all while I was frozen and cowering, trying not to get hit by flying books or vases or whatever they could reach.

“Get in the truck, Laurel,” Rand said, his cold voice breaking through. “We need to talk in private. You have a lot of explaining to do.”

I felt my knees buckling, only still standing because his hand was around my neck. Very slowly, it seemed like I was floating away, but some part of me was screaming to wake up and fight, because it was really Rand dragging me toward the truck door.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled as best I could, like I always did, hating myself, but hoping it would get his hands off me. “I was wrong. I know that now. We can talk.”

He loosened his grip, smiling, then peeled his hand away from my mouth. Before I could scream, he leaned in and kissed me. I tasted more blood, gagged, tried to jam my knee upward, but I was still pinned.

Then he was gone. I blinked, stumbling forward to see him on the ground six feet away. Mik stood over him, one of my wine bottles in his hand, his chest heaving. He looked at me, then at Rand.

“You have no right to treat anyone like that,” he shouted. “But especially not my fiancée.”

I didn’t hear that right; I couldn’t have. He smashed the bottle down on the pavement beside Rand’s head, making him curl up in fear, but only for a moment. Rolling to his knees, he jumped up, lunging at Mik.

Once again, I was transported back to my traumatic childhood, and the shouts were indecipherable from those of my parents when they used to wage their battles in front of me. I couldn’t breathe. The bright sunshine was fading away at triple speed, like night was racing in. And then everything went black.

Chapter 12 - Mikhail

I knew I should have taken a few days off to let my face heal, but the draw to be near Laurel was too strong. She had me making all sorts of bad decisions, from pulling her onto my lap on a business trip to almost getting caught staking out her apartment.

Now she was left to wonder why I had a bashed-up face, along with my other gossipy employees. They were tossing around theories ranging from owing the wrong person money to making one too many changes with the contractors. I had the perfect excuse at my fingertips, since one of my cousins owned a boxing gym, but I decided to let them have their fun and keep guessing.

I was currently watching the wine delivery truck roll up on the security camera feed in my office, and had to restrain myself from going out there to see Laurel’s reaction in person when she realized I ordered her wine. Once again, she wasn’t too happy with me since I was dodging her requests for a meeting. I had a feeling it was about the wine, and I also didn’t want her staring at my nose and getting the wrong impression that I was the kind of man who got in fights.

Well, it was the right impression. I just didn’t want her having it.