Page 71 of Savage Bratva King

I almost turn around and head back inside the house to call Victoria and call off the refuge plan. Almost. But then Gianna is standing in front of me on tiptoes, and smiling at me with those turquoise eyes, and my lips meet hers.

23

GIANNA

Leonid crouches on the ground,and Lucky throws her little body at him while Marvel washes his face with his tongue. It’s like a scene from a cheesy Hallmark movie where the guy without a heart finally thaws when he discovers that all he ever wanted was the daughter of his rival and a garden filled with dogs.

“Do you have a stash of meat treats in your pockets or have you been training them in secret to come to you?” I ask.

“I think it’s my allure. Dogs just love me.”

At the mention of the word ‘love’ I feel the heat spreading up my neck and into my face. After last night, I woke up to find Leonid gone again, and tears immediately welled in my eyes like he was never coming back. What is wrong with me? I’m his prisoner—he can’t just disappear and leave me here with the wicked witch of the west and goth-Glinda for company.

I realize that he’s dodging the furry bodies clambering all over his once-immaculate suit and watching me closely. I hope he wasn’t planning on wearing it outside of the house again today.

“Is that right?” I toss the tennis ball I’m holding from one hand to the other and deliberately throw it away from the decking. “Go get the ball.”

Both dogs follow the ball’s trajectory and bound after it without so much as a backwards glance.

“It’s a shame your allure doesn’t quite live up to a tennis ball.”

I chuckle, and Leonid comes over to me and kisses me on the lips, gripping my chin in what I’m starting to think of as his signature move.

“What do you want to talk about?”

When I found him in his study last night, he looked like a shadow of the man he is today, the man in the designer suit with his well-groomed hair and the kind of broad shoulders that Atlas would’ve been proud of. I never expected to see Leonid Ivanov looking anything less than perfect, like he was crafted from marble and steel. But last night … it was as if something had broken him.

Or perhaps that’s how he looks with the polished veneer stripped away, and his guard lowered.

Now that I’ve seen it though, I can’t unsee it, and I still have the overwhelming urge to wrap my arms around him and cradle him to sleep the way a mom would cradle a baby.

“Let’s walk.” He whistles. The dogs come running over, and I fall into step beside him.

There are still guards positioned strategically around the property, but it feels bizarre to stroll across the lawn with Leonid and the dogs like this is a game of happy families. At what point will he come to me and say that it’s time for me to leave? It’s inevitable. This isn’t real, and people like me and Leonid will only ever be game players even if I’m just a lowly pawn and he’s the king.

I should have kept him at arm’s length. I saw what he was capable of that first morning and promised myself that I would make him pay, and here I am walking beside him and counting down the hours until he slides between my legs in his bed tonight.

We keep walking, past the maze and the tennis courts, and I’m hit with a strong sense of déjà vu. This is the same route I walked with Tamara when she offered to help me escape.

Is this some kind of trick? Does he expect me to reenact what happened or is he going to give me a second opportunity to run while he looks the other way? If that’s the case, what will I do? Can I leave Lucky behind and pick up my life where it left off?

And what about Leo? To never feel his arms around me again, or his lips crushing mine, or to hear him call me his printzessa… Is that what I want?

I already know the answer.

We approach the edge of the woods, and my pulse starts to race. This is it. This is where he tells me that I get a head start if I want to reach the perimeter of his land before his men hunt me down.

He tosses the ball for the dogs to chase and turns to face me. “I have a proposition for you, Gianna. Well, two propositions. Although they’re connected so perhaps it is only one after all.”

Is henervous? Leonid Ivanov, Russian mafia boss, casino owner, and enemy of Xander Amory is actually sweating.

“Are you going to tell me what it is?”

“Gianna, what happened yesterday?—”

“That was yesterday.” I intertwine my fingers with his to stop him from pulling away from me as fresh tears collect on my bottom lashes. He’s letting me go, and he doesn’t even realize that this isn’t what I want. “And today is another day. It’s what my mom used to say when I was a little girl.”

“She sounds like a wise lady.”

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