Page 22 of Unexpected Bratva Baby

“It’s done, boss,” he says, his voice gruff but satisfied. “Clean hit. No witnesses and no traces.”

I let out a shaky breath. “Good. Any retaliation from José’s people?”

“Not yet, but we’re keeping an eye out. He hasn’t even heard about Mendoza’sunfortunatedemise yet, and there’s no concrete proof tying it back to us.”

“Excellent work,” I say. “Keep me updated on any developments.”

I end the call and take a moment to compose myself before returning to the table. Phoebe is studying the menu intently.

“Sorry about that,” I say, sliding back into my seat. “Unavoidable business matter.”

She looks up, staring at me for a long second. “Everything okay?”

I force a smile, pushing thoughts of assassinations and rival mafias to the back of my mind. “Of course. Just a small issue with a merger. Nothing to worry about. What delicacies have you chosen for us?”

She launches into a description of the tapas she’s ordered, and her enthusiasm makes my stomach rumble. As she speaks, I relax, the tension from the call with Sergei slowly ebbing away. Masha laying her head on my foot for a hopeful bite of bread also distracts me, and I comply.

The dog’s stainless-steel bowl of water and our wine arrives, and I take a sip, savoring the rich flavor. The waiter begins setting down small plates of food—patatas bravas, gambas al ajillo, pan con tomate, and more. Lastly, he places a larger plate of delicately sliced steak on the patio ground in front of Masha. She waits until he backs away before starting to eat.

“This looks amazing,” I say, genuinely impressed by Phoebe’s selections.

She beams, clearly pleased. “I thought we could use a little variety. Plus, I’ve always wanted to try authentic Spanish tapas.”

We dig in, the conversation flowing as easily as the wine. I’m laughing more than I have in years. It’s a strange feeling, this lightness of being, so at odds with my typical responsibilities.

As we’re finishing our meal, Masha, who has been quietly lying at our feet after eating her steak, suddenly perks up, ears twitching. I follow her gaze and spot a familiar face in the crowd of pedestrians passing by the café.

It’s one of José’s men, trying and failing to look inconspicuous as he surveys the area. My muscles tense, ready for action if necessary.

“Misha?” Phoebe’s voice pulls me back to the present. “Are you all right? You look worried.”

I force my attention back to her, plastering on a smile. “I’m fine. Just thought I saw someone I knew, but I was mistaken.”

She nods, but I see the doubt in her expression. “If you say so. Sometimes, I get the feeling there’s a lot you’re not telling me.”

I reach across the table, taking her hand in mine. Her skin is soft and warm. “Phoebe, I...” I pause, searching for the right words. “There are things about my life, my work, that are... complicated. Things that I can’t always share, for your safety as much as mine.”

Her fingers tighten around mine. “That sounds ominous. Misha, are you in some kind of trouble?”

I shake my head, hating her wariness. “No, nothing like that. It’s just the nature of high-level business. Corporate espionage, fierce competition, that sort of thing. Nothing for you to worry about.”

She doesn’t look entirely convinced but slowly nods. “Okay, but you know you can trust me, right? If you ever need to talk...”

“I know,” I say, squeezing her hand gently. “I appreciate that more than you know.”

Our moment is interrupted by the waiter returning with the check. I quickly pay, leaving a generous tip, and stand. “Shall we continue our walk?” I ask, extending my hand to help Phoebe up.

She takes it, rising gracefully. “Lead the way, Mr. Mysterious Businessman.”

We leave the café with Masha trotting happily beside us, and I worry our peaceful evening is about to be shattered. José’s man was here for a reason, and I doubt it was just a coincidence.

I guide us toward a more populated area, constantly scanning our surroundings. Phoebe chatters away, oblivious to the potential danger, and I’m torn between the desire to protect her and the need to keep her in the dark about my true identity.

For now, I’ll enjoy this glimpse of what life could be like if I were just Misha, the man Phoebe thinks I am even though it can’t last. Sooner or later, my two worlds will collide, and when they do, I can only hope Phoebe will understand why I’ve kept so many secrets and won’t run from me

9

Phoebe

---