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“Now, you’re just being mean.” His phone pings and I watch him scan the text. “What is it?”
“Three Russian brats landed. Word must’ve gotten out that the will is going to be probated.”
“If that’s true, shouldn’t the news of our wedding also be out there as well? The whole world should know I married the feared Bratva enforcer by now.”
He snaps his fingers. “I should’ve posted a wedding announcement in Mobster Daily.”
“It’s never too late.” I check his watch. “I’ll grab my purse and then we can go.”
“We’ll take the SUVs as well as two extra men.” Adjusting his holster, he looks out the window. “There is only one way into the suite, so I’ll send Fedor ahead to secure the rooms.”
“Are you afraid Grandmother Tarazov is planning an ambush?”
“I fear nothing.”
Rolling my eyes, I pat his chest. “I know. You remind me every day.”
“The same way you remind me that your happiness hinges on acquiring the keys to my car.”
“It’s more than the keys…it’s about your trust.”
“I do trust you.”
“Just not with your car.” I watch him close his eyes and know he’s praying I get hit with amnesia and give up the quest.
“I’ll meet you downstairs. I’m going to grab Vlad and make sure the vehicles are stocked.”
“You’re not talking about Diet Coke, are you?”
“No, love. We will be prepared for all contingencies.
I walk to the door and stop. “I wonder how much Olga knows about my parent’s relationship.”
“We’re about to find out.” He follows me out the door and then grabs my hand.
“What?”
“I will not allow anyone to hurt you.”
“I know.” I walk down the hall. “Let’s go see about securing the fortune. We’ve got Mustangs Shellys to buy.”
“Shelby, Lina. Not shelly. And do you really need a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar car to run into light poles with?”
“It was one light pole. And it popped up and nowhere.”
“As large cement pillars often do.”
“Maybe you should focus on stocking the cars and not worrying about my driving skills.”
“Or lack thereof,” he mutters before pushing through the door that leads to the stairs.
“I heard that,” I call out loudly. Stomping up the stairs to our loft, I vow to get ahold of the car keys and show him that I’m capable.”
***
“Private elevator. Very chic.” The small box lifts slowly, and I notice my husband’s stony expression is still in place. “Is there something you haven’t told me?”
“No”
