The Russian’s Stalked Bride (Lukov Bratva #5)

Chapter 1 - Ivan

Noise from the lounge bleeds through brick, reaching the alleyway in a low hum where I stand. With my phone to my ear, I lean casually against the exterior wall and pull in a deep drag from the cigarette pinched between my fingers.

It’s a bad habit, I know, but at least I reserve it for nights like this. I blame it on the clientele inside.

Wyatt’s voice comes through the other side, direct and without missing a beat. “After months of staying under the radar, why would Carlo and Cesare Grimaldi get sloppy now?”

“I wouldn’t say sloppy,” I murmur with a long exhale, letting the smoke curl through the cool night air. “But they must have a reason to move in the open now.”

“They were like ghosts for months. For all we knew, they disappeared entirely. And now they’ve been spotted on two different occasions.”

I grin to myself. “You know lots about ghosts, Michaels.”

He scoffs, and it lacks humor. “Very funny.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Focus, Ivan.”

I chuckle to myself, glancing at the rear exit, half expecting Mila to come out that way, but I know better than that. She never does. She likes to go through the front to blend in with the others since she always comes alone. She’s more predictable than she surely knows.

“In all fairness, they have been lying low. We only found them because of Mila,” I tell him, steering back on track as I absently rub my jaw.

“From what we gathered, the twins have been hovering ever since Orlando died, and given how she slips away at night, they likely have her on some kind of lockdown.”

“For their protection or hers?”

“Likely both. My guess is they want her near for convenience’s sake, and to ensure nobody trails her like we have. Unfortunately for them, she has given us exactly what we need. As for the two of them making moves, I’m going to assume that means they’re planning something.”

There’s a brief pause on the line, and I picture Wyatt leaning back in his chair, probably massaging the bridge of his nose. “You think they’re gearing up then? Ready to come out of hiding once and for all?”

“They already are, they’re just being careful for now,” I tell him, flicking the ashes away idly. “Their big, bad father is dead, and they don’t have his protection anymore. I’m sure they’ve been handling family politics behind the scenes over the last few months.”

“And Mila?”

“What about her?” I ask, jaw tightening fractionally.

“She’s leverage. Or, she will be,” he says. “If they have any inkling that we’re seeking them, then they’ll be planning to use her somehow. The way I see it, she’s their most obvious asset.”

Asset.

I don’t like people being referred to as assets to begin with, but having that descriptor tacked on to Mila’s being irritates me even more.

Rein it in, Ivan…

Taking a breath, I murmur, “They already are.”

“So you keep saying,” Wyatt utters, followed by a sigh.

“Look, they obviously want her to stay home, but I’ve seen her come and go numerous times now. She isn’t making much effort to stay hidden, but they don’t know that. Whatever the case may be, we need to find out their next steps.”

He hums to himself. “That doesn’t sound like someone under threat.”

“Because she doesn’t think she is.”

“And those two are just letting this happen after everything?”

Glancing across the alleyway, I catch how the stage lights flash against the bricks through the window, moving with the music. She’s not on yet, though…I know the set list. I know exactly when she’ll step out.

“They’re just underestimating her. The golden sister isn’t quite as squeaky clean as they expect, so it seems.”

Wyatt takes another breath. “What about the Balakins? Any sign of Yuri?”

“There haven’t been any direct sightings yet, but his people are moving one way or another,” I answer, recalling the briefs I received most recently.

“Where?”

“All over, but never for long. They’re keeping a low profile too, with or without Yuri.”

“And your cousins are still watching them?” Wyatt asks alongside a brief rustle on his end, like he’s shuffling papers.

“Artem’s at the helm on that front. He sends us updates as often as he can.”

Even if I haven’t seen Artem personally for some time, I can still picture his face in my mind.

The way his subtle grin doesn’t always reach his eyes, almost like he knows something about you before you do.

He’s good at this kind of thing, hence why Roman has passed it along to him and his siblings. Soon enough, Artem will root Yuri out.

“Good, then he can focus on them, and we’ll keep our eyes on the Grimaldis,” Wyatt murmurs, voice lowering slightly. “We need to talk strategy, Ivan.”

“We are.”

“I mean execution,” he corrects, tone revealing just a touch of exasperation. “We can talk all night about details, but it won’t get us anywhere unless we have a plan.”

Taking a deep breath of my own, I cross my arms. “Go on.”

“We can’t afford to wait anymore,” Wyatt says.

“The Grimaldis took a hit when Orlando died, and it would’ve been best for us to strike then, but obviously, Carlo and Cesare were out of the picture.

But now that we’ve spotted them, it means they’re cornered.

If we continue to wait, we may lose this chance. ”

Being cornered doesn’t mean they’re defenseless. Even if they’ve been in shambles after Orlando was shot, that still leaves his men. His resources. They have something to work with, I’m sure of it.

“You want to take them off the board, so we’ll do that. But it needs to be clean and quiet,” he continues. “Roman’s just starting to trust me, and I don’t need to jeopardize that by making a mess of this.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You want to stay in his good graces,” I murmur, continuing before I can stop myself, “What about Mila?”

Wyatt hesitates, and it’s enough to make my stomach lurch.

“She’s collateral.”

“She isn’t involved.”

“She’s a Grimaldi,” he murmurs. “That makes her involved by default.”

Closing my eyes, I pull in a quiet breath and lean my head back against the cold bricks. “She’s Orlando’s daughter, not one of his soldiers.”

“That wouldn’t have stopped Orlando from using her if he were still alive, and it won’t stop her brothers, either. And as I said, they’ll throw her into any equation if it means furthering their cause.”

“Then we find a way to work around her,” I tell him, not knowing where my stream of consciousness is taking me. “She isn’t like them.”

Wyatt pauses. “You sound awfully sure of that.”

Even if I should save face, I don’t say anything. I can’t.

“Ivan,” he says, sounding more like he’s onto me than anything else. “You’re dragging your feet.”

“No, I’m not. I’m trying to be thorough and cover all our bases,” I say, well aware that it’s a lie.

I am dragging my feet. I have been ever since I started surveilling her, even if that’s a hard thing to admit to myself.

“Right,” he adds, obviously not believing me. “Because from where I’m standing, you’ve had a clear shot for weeks. You could’ve done anything to shorten this thing for us, yet you haven’t.”

“And if I did something to jump the gun, then it would’ve been me falling out of my brother’s good graces,” I mutter. “We have to minimize—”

“The risks, yeah, I know. You’ve only mentioned that every time we’ve discussed this.”

“Then you should already know it’s important.”

Silence falls between us, stretching to an annoying degree, only broken up by the muffled music from inside the club.

Then, Wyatt sighs. “At the very least, we need to keep an eye on Mila. If her brothers are planning anything, she’ll be the primary tell.”

“I already am.”

Without needing to see him, I know this catches his attention from the way his end goes completely still.

“How close?”

“Close enough. I’ll let you know if I learn anything new.”

Giving me a final, exasperated breath, Wyatt mumbles, “Just don’t lose sight of the objective.”

“I won’t.”

Before he can sound more disappointed in me, I end the call, watching as the screen goes black.

Slipping the phone into my pocket, I head back inside the club, navigating the dimly-lit space before easing back into my seat.

The noise is immediate as the opener wraps up his set, and the small, intimate crowd starts to clap.

I do the same, pretending like I didn’t just miss the entire thing. Though sitting near the back, where I’m likely obscured from view to anyone on stage, helps me blend in further.

I’ve been here before…more times than I care to admit.

Then, as the lights dim further, the chatter softens down to quiet anticipation, and before long, she steps onto the stage.

Mila Grimaldi doesn’t look like the daughter of a dead boss.

She isn’t done up like someone used to being doted on or showered in praise for merely existing.

She isn’t covered in diamonds or gold; she’s not surrounded by an entourage or bodyguards.

Instead, she wears a simple black dress that sits perfectly on her frame, along with understated heels that don’t scream luxury.

Her long blonde hair frames her face like a curtain, looking even more golden under the stage lights. She curls a hand around the microphone, gripping tight for just a moment before she relaxes.

She has done that every time. She braces herself, then, when she’s ready, she lets go.

As the first note leaves her mouth, something all too familiar tightens painfully in me.

Mila’s voice isn’t loud or dominant, and it doesn’t need to be. She starts out soft and gentle, almost like she’s trying it out for the first time, vulnerable and raw. Then, she slips into that confidence again, putting more strength behind every note.

Leaning back in my chair, I force myself to breathe.

I’ve been telling myself for weeks now that this is only about surveillance. That I’m here to watch for patterns, signs of Grimaldi activity, or potential threats. That I’m doing this to get myself closer to her brothers.

But my eyes never leave her.

Mila sings like she doesn’t have anything to lose, and yet, she’s risking everything to be here. Really, that is the case.

It’s a low-key show without any cameras, press, or anyone who might be lurking due to her name. Just some locals and likely some curious tourists who stumbled in due to sheer curiosity.

She shouldn’t be able to get away with this, given everything that has gone on in the last few months. But then again, I know why her brothers let it happen. They have no clue.

There’s a guard at their place usually stationed near her room, and on the nights of her shows, she smiles just enough to make him feel special, I suppose. Though he doesn’t seem to notice how she never pushes too hard.

By the time she slips away, he’s convinced it was his idea all along. But it’s all just a ruse for her sake.

I noticed it the first night she did it, following her at a distance, and stupidly ready to put a bullet in anyone who got too close to her.

When the song ends, the room erupts into applause, and Mila ducks her head slightly, just enough to look bashful. That shy smile pulling at her lips guts me every time.

After a short break and speaking to the crowd, she starts the next one, easing into it like it’s nothing.

I’ve been tracking the Grimaldis for some time now, between trying to locate her brothers and keeping tabs on her. Her name was supposed to be just another variable in the equation. But now, she’s a fixation, and one I can’t seem to drop.

I know what she orders at the bar before she gets on stage, and that she tips too much. That she always scans the crowd before she leaves, even if she doesn’t really have any means to protect herself.

As she hits an impressive long note, my pulse spikes, and it’s an impossible task to look away from that face. The one I long to see whenever I’m not actively watching her.

And as those hazel eyes reach the crowd again…

Fuck.

Drawing in a deep breath, I know I shouldn’t be so stuck on her. This should only be about duty, neutralizing threats, and protecting what belongs to my family.

But somewhere along the way, she managed to crawl under my skin without even knowing it.

She’s forbidden fruit in every sense. She’s the very thing I’m supposed to ruin.

But Christ, it only makes her sweeter. More tempting.

I should want to use her and turn her into leverage, like most men like me would do. Yet, all I can do is sit in the dark and let her voice wreck me over and over again.