Page 42 of Savage Bratva King

“Yep.” My voice shakes, and I pray that he doesn’t notice. “Leonidwho?”

“Are you trying to tell me that yesterday meant nothing to you?”

“Correct again. You catch on quick.” Marvel whines by my side and I stroke his head, murmuring to him softly, “It’s okay, boy. Daddy isn’t in any danger.” I glimpse Leonid’s stern profile, and my heart starts thudding.

“That’s debatable, Gianna.”

I don’t speak. I’ve said too much, already. I’ve let my captor off the hook and preserved my dignity, but I’m sad that I’ll probably never get to see Marvel again.

“Are you finished?” His voice is strained.

I inhale deeply. “Yes.” It comes out sounding way meeker than I wanted it to.

“Good.” He slides his hand into mine and veers left before we reach the tennis courts.

I don’t try to pull away. His hand isn’t restrictive; it’s warm, gentle almost, the way a father might hold his daughter when he wants to keep her close. Marvel, sensing the truce, runs off ahead and I shriek out loud when he pounces on a pigeon and almost catches it.

Leonid chuckles. “He hasn’t figured out how to fly, to my knowledge.”

But I’m not paying attention. Up ahead is a huge pond surrounded by weeping willows, long-necked graceful swans gliding across the water’s surface. There are lily pads and bulrushes and golden fish bobbing for food. A flash of sapphire darts away from the pond as we approach. A kingfisher.

Marvel lowers his head at the edge of the pond and quenches his thirst. Then as if suddenly catching the scent of food, he dashes around the pond and stops at a red and white gingham blanket spread out across the grass. There are baskets on the blanket, a wine cooler, crystal champagne flutes.

“Marvel.” Leonid whistles, and the dog raises his head, his ears instantly standing to attention.

“What’s this?”

Leonid smiles at me, and I forget, just for a moment, why I’m here.

“Dinner.”

16

LEONID

I once prepareda picnic for Elena. I was going to propose to her. My mother said that a picnic would be romantic, the way to impress a woman.

Maybe some women, but it didn’t impress Elena.

She complained that she was uncomfortable sitting on a blanket on the ground.

She complained that she could hear a wasp buzzing around the food even though it was covered, and the only insect I saw was a delicate dragonfly.

She complained that the champagne didn’t stay chilled in the heat of the sun, and that she didn’t bring sunblock with her, and that, if she’d known, she’d have worn something practical.

Gianna squeals with delight when she realizes that I’ve prepared a picnic. She pulls her hand from mine and runs to the blanket, dropping to her knees and throwing her arms around Marvel’s neck before murmuring, “Shall we see what we’ve got?”

She opens the basket, peering inside at the tiny dishes of caviar and pâté, the triangles of toasted bread, the ripe tomatoes and the sweet tuiles curled into slender rolls and dipped in chocolate.

She looks at me with wide eyes. “Did you prepare this food?”

“Would you believe me if I said yes?”

She smiles. “Probably not.”

I open the champagne with a gentle pop and half-fill two glasses, handing one to Gianna.

“Okay.” Her expression is serious. “What’s this all for?”

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