Page 39 of Unexpected Bratva Baby

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “No, I’m fine. It’s just... Please, Phoebe. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

Another pause, shorter this time. “Okay,” she says finally, her voice small. “I’ll book a flight for tomorrow.”

“Thank you. I’ll meet you at the airport. Text me your flight details.”

“All right. Are you sure everything’s okay?” She still sounds angry with me, but it’s tempered now with true concern, letting me know she still cares.

I swallow hard, hating the lie I’m about to tell. “Everything’s fine,lyubimaya. I just miss you.”

We say our goodbyes, and I end the call, tossing the phone onto the nearby couch. My decisions presses down on me. I’ve disappointed her, but the alternative—leaving her vulnerable to Valdés’ men—is unthinkable.

I walk to the bar, pouring myself a generous measure of vodka. The first sip burns, a welcome distraction from the turmoil in my mind. Images flash before my eyes—Phoebe, laughing in the sunshine, then Valdés’ sneering face and bodies lying in pools of blood.

A knock at the door interrupts my dark thoughts. “Come in,” I call out, not turning from the window.

Sergei enters, his reflection visible in the glass. “Boss, we’ve got an update.”

I turn to face him, gesturing for him to continue.

“We’ve intercepted some chatter... Valdés knows about Phoebe, of course, and we’ve been trying to figure out how much he knows.”

The glass in my hand shatters, vodka and blood mingling as shards embed themselves in my palm. I barely notice the pain. “What exactly does he know?”

“Not much,” he says quickly. “Just that she exists, and she’s important to you. We don’t think he knows where she is.”

I clench my fist, ignoring the sting. “He won’t get the chance to find out. I’ve asked her to come home.”

Sergei’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Are you sure that’s wise? She’ll be right in the middle of?—”

“I know,” I snap, then soften my tone. “I know, but I can protect her better here. We’ll increase security at the penthouse and assign a personal detail to shadow her at all times.”

“Understood, boss. I’ll make the arrangements.”

As Sergei turns to leave, I call out to him. “Sergei? Make sure the men understand if anything happens to Phoebe, if even a hair on her head is harmed, I’ll hold them personally responsible.”

He nods gravely. “They’ll guard her with their lives, Mikhail. You have my word.”

Once I’m alone again, I walk to the bathroom to clean my injured hand. While I pick out the glass shards, my thoughts wander to Phoebe. How will I explain all this to her? The danger, the violence, and the life I’ve kept hidden from her?

I wrap a bandage around my palm, clenching my jaw as I think of Valdés. He’s crossed a line, trying to use Phoebe against me. I’ll make him regret ever hearing her name.

Returning to the living room, I survey the maps and documents spread across every surface. Somewhere in this mess is the key to bringing down Valdés and his entire operation. I have to find it, and soon. For Phoebe’s sake, and for my own.

As dawn breaks over Miami, I’m still at it, my eyes burning from lack of sleep. My phone chimes with a message from Phoebe giving her flight details. She’ll be here in less than twenty-four hours.

I settle back in my chair, weariness finally catching up with me. Soon, Phoebe will be here, safe under my protection, but she’ll also be thrust into a world she knows nothing about, a world of danger and violence from which I’ve tried so hard to shield her.

I can only hope that when she learns the truth about who I am and what I do, she’ll understand why I kept it from her, and maybe she’ll find it in her heart to forgive me.

15

Phoebe

Isit in the first-class lounge at Edinburgh Airport, drumming my fingers in a nervous rhythm on the arm of the plush leather chair. The taste of my third espresso lingers on my tongue, bitter and unsatisfying. My mind races, replaying the events of the past few days like a film reel stuck on repeat.

Nastya settles into the seat beside me, scanning the nearly empty lounge. “Are you ready for this, Phoebe?”

I force a smile, but it feels brittle on my face. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

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