Page 45 of The Russian's Stalked Bride
“Are you leaving?”
I nod. “Yeah. I’m needed at work.”
She studies me, and I can see the gears turning in her head, like she’s trying to understand as much of this as she can. “That’s vague.”
“As it should be.”
After some consideration, Mila stands and faces me. “Does this have anything to do with me?”
My first instinct is to confirm it, but I know better than that. Instead, I hesitate, and it doesn’t slip her attention.
Her expression hardens fractionally. “Ivan.”
“You don’t need to worry about any of this,” I tell her, both not ready to dive into the details with her or to burden her with the truth. She’s not supposed to be involved, even if a small part of me wants to keep her in the loop. “I’ll be back. Order something in if you want.”
“I’m not an idiot,” she mutters, not giving this up like I want her to. “I know you’ve been bracing yourself for what my brothers might do. If they’ve done something, you don’t need to hide it from me.”
Stepping closer, I give her a firm look. “What I need you to do is stay here and not ask questions, Mila. This doesn’t concern you.”
“If it has to do with my family, then it does concern me.”
She’s right, but I can’t let her know that.
“I have to go. Don’t wait up for me,” I murmur, turning before I let those eyes melt me into admitting that things aren’t as solid behind the scenes as I’ve been letting on.
“You said you wouldn’t lie to me anymore,” Mila calls to me as I approach the door, standing there with her arms crossed and her lips in a thin line. “You’re lying by omission.”
Grabbing my keys, I keep going anyway as I reach the front. “I’m doing it to keep you safe.”
I catch her forced exhale, and just before I can close the door behind me, she mutters, “Be careful.”
The two words surprise me, and for a beat, I almost turn around again. I almost haul my ass back in there to kiss her hard like I’ve been wanting to for the past week, but I don’t.
Instead, I give the faintest nod before leaving, making sure the door’s secure before I go.
I’m not ready to acknowledge how big those little words truly are.
***
It doesn’t take long for me to find the wreckage of the first shipment, along with a small fleet of our men busy taking care of it before too much attention is drawn to it. The inventory not taken is already hooked up to a different truck and hauled back to one of the warehouses, while the original cab is being assessed for damage.
From what I can tell, the truck was hit, and the driver killed, staged to look like a collision, but the Grimaldis didn’t rob us blind, at least. Though enough was taken for Roman to be fuming by the time I reached the warehouse.
He’s leaning against his desk, arms crossed, when I walk in. Nikolai and Mikhail are there on the couch, and all three sets of eyes land on me without hesitation.
“You were sloppy,” Roman mutters, eyes hard.
“I was seen. That’s it.”
“Yes, seen in public, where Grimaldi men tend to be at times. And now, we’re short on inventory and profits.”
“I’m aware,” I murmur, closing the office door and leaning back against it. “I saw the truck on the way here.”
“You revealed your hand,” Nikolai adds, checking through feeds again on one of the tablets.
“They would’ve found out eventually anyway. It’s not like I can keep her stuck inside all day like a houseplant.”
Roman’s eyes narrow. “You accelerated it. You gave them a reason to strike.”
