Page 30 of The Bratva’s Stalked Pregnant Bride

Only to be replaced with a sinking feeling that had me worrying I might actually start getting dragged down into the floor. I didn’t just work for this tyrant. I was married to him. Was he coming back to the office, expecting me to be a docile lamb when my reputation was on the line? Would we pick this back up at home, over dinner?

Standing there, too stunned by the weight of my terrible decisions, I pulled out my phone to check my bank balance again. It might mean more hardship, but my entire career was on the line. This place was going to have a huge, high-profile grand opening with celebrities, food critics, wine snobs, and famous chefs. All of them looking for a reason to tear it apart.

Chase strolled out of the kitchen and stopped at the bar. “Gorgeous glasses,” he cooed before heading out back to accept a delivery.

“Oh shut up,” I muttered. Was no one on my side?

Quitting and going somewhere else might mean a pay cut and tightening my belt while I searched for a new job, but I needed to feel in control of my own future at least. My last relationship was a nightmare, my new one was fake, my financial situation was pathetic since I had to spend so much to move down here. My career was all I had to be proud of, the only thing I was sure I was good at, when the rest of my life was in shambles.

I was this close to finding a sheet of paper and scrawling my resignation on it, but before I did that and slammed it on Mik’s desk and stormed out for good, I just stormed out. I needed to cool off before I made such a rash decision.

By the time I got to the bus stop, one was rolling up, so I got on to head back to my apartment. A nice glass of Pinot Noir and a refreshing shower might give me a more level head. Better able to get back into the fight, because this wasn’t finished. One of us had to cave on those decisions, and it wasn’t going to be me, so I had to find a way to make Mik see reason.

In the crowded bus, I got up for a pregnant woman to take my seat, and before she could waddle to it, a man with a face tattoo sat down and glared at both of us. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and I hit the button for the next stop, walking the rest of the way home.

I was sweaty and out of breath from charging down the sidewalks in the afternoon heat, and couldn’t wait to get into my air-conditioned apartment and relax in my own space. Who cared if it could have fit into the guest bedroom at Mik’s place? It was mine.

Dragging myself up the stairs, I noticed that the curtains were wide open, something I never did even when I was home. As I got closer, I realized they weren’t wide open. They were completely gone, and a glance in my apartment before I got to the door showed me it was empty except for the fake plant I kept on the kitchen windowsill.

Despite recognizing the plant, I still stepped back and checked the number on the door, certain I must have stopped in front of the wrong one. No, it was my apartment, and with my heart jumping up into my throat, I jammed the key into the door, my phone out to call and report a robbery.

But the key didn’t turn. I was locked out of my own place, and it had been stripped bare. Feeling like I might puke, I ran down to the office.

“What’s going on with my apartment?” I asked.

The manager was usually nice, if a bit lackadaisical, and she frowned as she pulled up the info on her computer. “Your lease ended,” she said, staring at me like a cow in a field.

“No, it’s a six-month lease, and I’ve only lived here a month,” I said. “You’ve made a mistake. And where’s all my furniture and clothes and… everything?”

She frowned again, clicked a few more times on her keyboard, unconcerned that my entire life had gone missing. I didn’t actually care about most of it, but I still had clothes in my closet, and it was mine, damn it.

“Oh, here’s the note,” she said, scribbling something on a notepad and tearing it off to hand over the counter to me. “Here’s the address of the storage unit your property was taken to.”

“But how is my lease ended? I didn’t authorize this.”

“Mrs Fokin,” she said, beginning to get annoyed with me. “This was all under the authorization of your husband.”

My husband? Mrs. Fokin? I was already overheated from the long trek home, but waves of burning anger made me flap my hand in front of my face. How was this possible? Why was it happening? I specifically remembered Mik saying he’d pay my rent for the duration of this arrangement. He wouldn’t dare. Why would he dare?

“It’s literally been one day,” I said, fighting tears.

She shrugged. “We have a waiting list that’s six pages long.”

Once again, I was dismissed, and there was nothing I could do. My life was getting turned inside out, and I had zero control to change this decision. It was already settled. New tenants were taking over my apartment in the next few days.

Well, if I couldn’t fix it, maybe the blockhead who messed it up in the first place could. He damn well better.

Chapter 18 - Mikhail

A daytime attack wasn’t unheard of, but it meant that whoever was behind the attacks against my cousins was getting more brazen. They thought they could win in a war against us. Right now, it was merely annoying, but even someone who mostly stayed out of things knew how dangerous escalations like this could become.

By the time I arrived, the quick, explosive fight was almost finished. Aleks was furious because one of his storefronts had been broken into, the plate-glass windows smashed, and an entire safe full of money carted off.

The cops were arriving, called by frightened neighbors when the smash-and-grab broke out. Before I could get any of the action, Aleks was directing us all to leave it to the authorities for now and meet up at a bar in the same neighborhood to discuss what happened. It was a new-old place that Rurik had bought, and I was glad to see him even in the tense circumstances.

We had grown up together, though he’d been in America for a while now and was settling right in. There were pictures of the bar in its original state on the walls, and the place was unrecognizable now that he’d changed it to a surf theme.

“How did the locals take it?” I asked, since we were at least forty minutes from the ocean, if the traffic was light.