Vadim
Icarry Tai’s rucksack down the narrow staircase, which earns me a look from Bogdan like I’ve lost the plot entirely. Voronovs don’t carry bags. Voronovs give orders and other people carry bags. I ignore him.
The street outside is quiet except for a car alarm two blocks over and the drip of water from a broken gutter.
Bogdan checks both directions before he lets either of us near the Bentley, and I catch myself doing the same thing, scanning parked cars for anyone who doesn’t belong, anyone sitting too still behind a wheel.
Nobody’s watching. Not yet. That will change.
Tai climbs into the passenger seat without waiting for me to open the door this time, which tells me something about where her head’s at. She’s accepted that this is her new reality.
I shove the rucksack in the boot and then climb in, slamming the door shut just as someone taps on the passenger window. I lean over as Bogdan also looms into view, hauling the man away from the car by the back of his collar.
“Who is that?” Tai whispers, pressing back into her seat.
“You don’t know them?” I ask, checking before Bogdan rips his head off.
Tai shakes her head.
I slide the window down an inch and lean over Tai to stick the barrel of my gun out of the gap.
Tai whimpers but says nothing.
The man Bogdan’s got by the collar is mid-thirties, cheap jacket, the kind of face that’s spent too many nights not sleeping properly. His eyes dart from me to Tai and back again, and there’s nothing in them I recognise. No tattoos I can see. No weight behind the shoulders that says trained.
“Where did you come from?” I ask, but it’s directed more at Bogdan than the man.
“House two doors down,” Bogdan growls.
“Why are you tapping on my window?” I ask.
“There’s a purse in the road. I thought it might be yours.”
I frown and glance to the middle of the road, where there is a purse lying there. “Yours?” I ask Tai.
“No,” she croaks.
I withdraw the gun and sit back, sliding the window up.
“Do you always threaten strangers with a gun?” she whispers.
“More often than you’d think.”
Bogdan releases the man with a shove that sends him stumbling into the road. He doesn’t look at us again. He scoops up the purse and hurries off toward the house he came from, glancing over his shoulder twice before he disappears through his own front door.
“Thief,” Tai hisses.
“Opportunist.”
“That was too much of a coincidence.”
“Agreed.”
Bogdan is already moving, walking a slow loop around the Bentley. He’s thorough. It’s why I keep him close even when he ignores every order I give him.
I start the engine. Tai’s hands are folded tight in her lap, knuckles pale.
“That scared you more than Anton shooting up my club.”
“Anton wasn’t right next to me, separated only by a sheet of glass.”
“Good point.” I smirk and set off. Bogdan isn’t far behind as I head back to Mayfair.
Tai sits with her spine straight and her hands twisted together, watching the wing mirror like she expects the man from the house two doors down to reappear with an army behind him. I let her have the silence. She’s earned it.
“You didn’t have to point a gun at him,” she says eventually.
“I didn’t shoot him.”
“That’s a low bar for good behaviour.”
“I set my bars low. Keeps my expectations manageable.”
She huffs something that isn’t quite a laugh, and I take the corner onto the main road, checking the mirrors out of habit rather than any real concern. Bogdan’s SUV stays on our arse.
“Do you always assume everyone’s a threat?” she asks.
“Everyone is a threat until they prove otherwise. Most people just don’t know it.”
She glances at the wing mirror again like she expects a car to appear behind us.
Nobody follows. I checked twice at the lights.
“You can stop looking in the mirror,” I say. “Bogdan would tell me.”
“Forgive me if I don’t trust the giant’s peripheral vision over my own eyes.”
“His peripheral vision is better than most men’s direct vision.”
“That’s just a weird thing to know about someone.”
“What can I say? He’s like family.”
She frowns and gives me a curious stare.
I take the turn onto my street, and the gates roll open before I need to slow down.
Ivan meets us at the door before I’ve cut the engine, which means he heard the gates from wherever he keeps himself busy when I’m out. He takes one look at the rucksack I’m hauling out of the boot and says nothing, though the eyebrow twitches enough to confirm Tai’s theory about his judgement.
“Guest room’s ready,” he says.
“Told you,” I say to Tai, trying to keep the victory out of my tone.
She climbs out of the car and slings her tote bag over one shoulder.
“Fine. You win. Ivan listens to you. Congratulations.” She glares at me and follows Ivan up the steps, while I take a second longer than I need to, watching the street beyond the gates before they close.
Nothing jumps out, but the armed guards at the gates will deter most people.
“Of course Ivan listens to me. I pay his multi-six-figure salary,” I state as I close the door.
She turns to look at me. “How much?”
“Well, I’m not discussing specifics…”
“Multi-six figures?” she blurts out. “Are you fucking joking?”
“I never joke about money.”
“You’re an arse.”
“You don’t think Ivan is worth his salary?” I ask curiously, genuinely, and it catches her off-guard.
“Well, no, I didn’t say that. I just mean—”
“Ivan?” I call out, never taking my gaze from Tai’s. “Taisiya doesn’t think you are worth your salary. Should I give you a pay decrease?”
Tai’s face pales, and she looks horrified. “I didn’t…” she stammers. “I never said…”
Ivan’s face doesn’t move an inch. “Understood, sir. I shall await the paperwork.”
“He’s joking,” I say to Tai, though I let the silence stretch a beat too long before I say it, just to watch her squirm.
“I hate you,” she mutters, stalking past both of us into the sitting room. “Both of you. This whole house.”
“Dinner will be ready within the hour,” Ivan says, entirely unbothered, and disappears toward the kitchen as if none of this happened.
I follow her. She’s standing in the middle of the sitting room, staring at the fire.
“You should eat something,” I say. “You had lasagne and wine for breakfast and vodka for lunch.”
“What is on the menu?”
“Something wholesome. Ivan likes to cook.”
“I didn’t mean to insult him.”
“You didn’t. He doesn’t give a flying fuck about your opinion of his salary. He knows he earns it and, quite frankly, I should probably give him a pay rise.”
“I’m jealous,” she says quietly. “I’ve never in my wildest dreams imagined having a job that pays that much. Or living in a house like this. Or walking around with fancy watches that probably cost as much as your fancy car.”
“My watches cost more than my car. But we digress. Jealousy is natural. You haven’t been given the opportunities that others have. It’s the way of the world.”
“And you saying that as a Bratva millionaire is a bit of a slap in the face. You realise that, don’t you?”
“I realise it.”
Her eyebrows lift. She expected an argument.
“I’m not pretending I earned every advantage I had. I was born a Voronov. The name opened doors before I was old enough to understand what waited behind them. It also put a target on my back before I could spell it.”
“That must’ve been terrible in this massive mansion.”
“It wasn’t this mansion.”
“Oh, forgive me. Was the previous mansion smaller?”
I laugh despite myself. “Much. We suffered terribly. We didn’t have Ivan.”
She gives me a disgusted look, but some tension leaves her face.
“I know I’ve had privileges,” I say. “I also work. You can resent the first without dismissing the second.”
She looks towards the fire again. My cardigan hangs from her body, the sleeves covering half her fingers. Twisted possession settles in my blood at the sight of her in my clothes.
“You should call your work,” I say.
Her head turns fast. “Why?”
“Because not showing up will make people ask questions.”
“I’m not due in until tomorrow.”
“Call tonight. Tell them you’re ill and won’t be in for several days.”
“I don’t want to talk to them.”
“Then I will.”
She blinks. She looks like she wants to argue, but at the same time, she looks relieved that someone is taking the weight off her.
“What’s the number?”
Tai pulls out her phone and unlocks it, flicking through it before handing it to me. “What are you going to tell them?”
I ignore her as I dial and wait for it to connect.
A woman answers after four rings. “The Black Hart.”
“I’m calling on behalf of Taisiya Korotayeva. She won’t be working tomorrow.”
The woman pauses. “Who is this?”
“Her husband.”
Tai makes a strangled noise and reaches for the phone. I turn away, keeping it out of reach as I hold back my chuckle.
“Husband?” the woman asks, suddenly interested. “Tai never mentioned a husband.”
“Hmm. She’s got the flu,” I say. “She needs several days.”
“Can I speak to her?”
Tai shakes her head hard.
“She’s sleeping.”
“Tell her to call Aliksa when she wakes up,” the woman says.
“I’ll tell her.” I end the call. I lower the phone and hand it back.
“Are you insane?” she screeches. “Why did you say you were my husband?”
“Several reasons. The main one being if she is questioned, she will say your husband called you in sick, so they will know you aren’t alone.”
“And the other reasons,” she growls.
“Because I’ve decided, Taisiya, that you will be my wife and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it.
” The words are out of my mouth before I’ve thought them through, but the conversation with Baron rears its head, and I can’t stop thinking about it.
I can’t stop thinking about this woman, in my bed, with my name. She will be my wife.