Page 72 of Savage Bratva King

“She was.”

What would she have thought of Leonid? It makes my chest ache to think that I’ll never get the chance to ask my mom’s opinion, but I think that Mel would approve. She would want me to be happy, and to experience the kind of love she has for Xander, no matter how difficult it might be.

“I want to build a women’s refuge in the city.”

I blink. I think I must be delusional because it sounded like he just said that he wanted to build a women’s refuge in the city.

“Which city?”

He grins at me like I just told him he has ketchup on his tie. Not that Leonid probably ever eats ketchup. “This city.”

“Chicago? Why?” I hear him, but the words aren’t computing inside my head.

“Why not? There aren’t enough places to go around.”

The dogs run back to us, and I throw the ball for them on autopilot. “But … a women’s refuge? I mean, it’s a wonderful idea but…”

“But not the kind of project a man like me would undertake.”

His eyes grow dark, and my chest grows heavy with guilt. This is exactly what I was thinking, and I should know better than to judge people on what the rest of the world sees. He rescued Marvel, something that I could never imagine in a million years Xander Amory doing.

Something I could imagine though, is my brother-in-law getting hold of this information and using it to his advantage.

“I’m sorry.” I suck on my bottom lip, and I swear I can still taste Leo on it. “I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”

“Gianna, you don’t have to apologize to me. Ever.” He holds my gaze, and I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. “Perhaps it isn’t a project that I would have accepted, until now. But you’ve opened my eyes.”

My heart does this funny skipping thing. “I have?”

“I see your passion, and your conviction, and your determination to make the world a better place, and I know that if anyone can succeed, it’s you.”

“What are you saying, Leo?”

“The refuge is yours… If you want it?”

“Mine?”

“Yours.” Leo tilts my chin towards him and kisses me on the lips producing more tears. “I told you I look after what’s mine, and I’ve never wanted to protect anyone more than you, my printzessa.”

“I could fly my friends over from Montenegro to help me.”

“You can fly the Pope in to help you if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t know how to run a refuge, but I can learn.”

“Anything can be learned, Gianna.” He folds me into his arms and holds me close. “Anything.”

My thoughts are spiraling out of control. I can already picture me, Mika, and Cartier in our own refuge, helping vulnerable women to rebuild their lives while keeping them safe. I can imagine Lucky dividing her affection between the women like a therapy dog, listening, loving, and teaching them to trust again.

It’s a dream come true.

But these idyllic images shatter when I think of my father’s reaction to me rejecting Seamus to, instead, manage a refuge with Leonid Ivanov.

He will never allow it. He would rather send me back to Montenegro than have me flaunt his orders in his face right here in the city.

My fragile dreams are already turning sour on my tongue as Leo holds me at arm’s length and lowers his face to peer into my eyes. “What is it, my printzessa?”

I swallow the solid lump in my throat. “It’s a lovely idea, Leo, but it will never work.”

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