Page 36 of Unexpected Bratva Baby

Before she can respond, I march out of the shop, nervous but determined. The two men watch my approach, their faces impassive. “Why are you following me?” I demand, my voice stronger than I feel. “Who sent you?”

The men exchange a glance before the taller one speaks. “Miss MacKenzie, please calm down. We mean you no harm.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” I snap. “Who are you, and why are you following me?”

The shorter man reaches into his jacket. I tense, but he only pulls out a small leather wallet. He flips it open, revealing his identification from Miami. “We’re private security, Miss MacKenzie. Mr. Sokolov sent us to ensure your safety.”

The world tilts on its axis. “Mikhail sent you?” I whisper, shock coursing through me. “Why? Why wouldn’t he tell me?”

“Mr. Sokolov believed it was best for your protection if you were unaware of our presence,” says the taller man. “He didn’t want to alarm you unnecessarily.”

A maelstrom of emotions swirls within me. Relief that these men aren’t a threat, anger at Mikhail’s deception, and a growing unease about what kind of man needs to hire secret bodyguards for his girlfriend.

Nastya’s hand on my arm grounds me. “Phoebe, are you okay?” she asks, her voice laced with concern.

I shake my head, struggling to find words. “I don’t know. This is all so...”

“Overwhelming.” She turns to the men, her expression stern. “I think you owe Phoebe a more detailed explanation. Why does Mr. Sokolov believe she needs protection?”

The men share another glance before the one with the Florida driver’s license speaks. “I’m afraid we’re not at liberty to discuss Mr. Sokolov’s reasons. Our job is simply to ensure Miss MacKenzie’s safety.”

Frustration bubbles up inside me. “Your job just got a lot harder because I’m not going anywhere with you until I get some answers.”

The taller man steps forward, looking displeased. “Miss MacKenzie, please. There are things at play here that you don’t understand. It’s not safe to discuss this in the open.”

His words make me shiver. What kind of danger could I possibly be in? And what isn’t Mikhail telling me?

Nastya squeezes my arm gently. “Maybe we should hear them out somewhere more private. Your safety is the most important thing right now.”

I look at her, seeing the concern in her eyes. Despite the shock and anger swirling inside me, she’s right. I need answers, but I also need to be smart about this. “Fine, but I want to call Mikhail first. I need to hear this from him.”

The men nod, and the shorter one hands me a cell phone. “This is a secure line. Mr. Sokolov’s number is pre-programmed.”

My hands shake slightly as I take the phone. I dial the number, my mouth dry as it rings. On the third ring, Mikhail’s deep voice fills my ear.

“Yuri? What’s wrong? You aren’t due to check in for another two hours.” The concern in his tone is evident.

“It’s me, not Yuri,” I say with barely contained anger. “What’s going on?” I ask, my voice cracking slightly. “There are men here saying you sent them to protect me. Why didn’t you tell me? What aren’t you telling me?”

There’s a pause. “Lyubimaya, I’m so sorry. I never wanted to frighten you. I thought I could keep you safe without burdening you with the truth.”

“And what is the truth, Mikhail?” I press, anger seeping into my tone. “What kind of danger am I in that requires secret bodyguards?”

Another pause, longer this time. When he speaks again, his voice is heavy with resignation. “It’s complicated. There are aspects of my business that I’ve kept from you to protect you, but it seems that separation is no longer possible.”

My stomach drops. “What do you mean, aspects of your business? Mikhail, please, just tell me what’s going on.”

“Not over the phone,” he says firmly. “It’s not safe. I’ll talk to you when you get back.”

I sigh, wanting to insist I’m coming home now for answers, but I bite back that compulsion. I refuse to give up this amazing vacation. “I’m going to stay angry with you until I get home,” I warn and hang up, handing back the phone to the man. Yuri, I guess. My mind is reeling, trying to process everything that’s happened in the last few minutes.

Nastya touches my shoulder, steadying me. “Are you okay?” she asks softly.

I shake my head. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m in some kind of bizarre dream. Or nightmare.”

“I’m here for you, Phoebe. Whatever happens, I’ve got your back.”

I manage a weak smile, grateful for her presence. Then I turn to the men, squaring my shoulders. “All right.” Turning away from the unwanted bodyguards, and no longer feeling the need to hear more from them when it’s clear they won’t tell me much, I say to my friend, “What’s our next stop?”

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