Page 38 of Stolen By the Don

Stoic, firm Polina.

“She’s fine,” I say, easing her worry.

“Okay.” She nods, though the nod is hesitant. “I made soup for her. When should I take it up?”

“Anytime,” I reply with a nonchalant shrug. “I did my part. I brought her back. The rest doesn’t concern me.”

It’s a lie, but I deliver it well. “I’ll be out till dark,” I add, already walking past her. “No need to prepare dinner for me.”

“Oh,” she says, her voice catching in a way it rarely does. I stop and turn to her. “What is it?”

Polina hesitates, her fingers twisting the edge of her apron before quickly releasing it. “It’s nothing, sir. I just…assumed you’d be staying home. I made plans for you and Miss Ricci to have your meals together. I’ll make the necessary adjustments,” she adds briskly.

“That won’t be needed,” I reply curtly. “Miss Ricci and I will not be eating together…anymore. If it’s a hassle to make our meals separately, then I’ll have someone?—”

“Oh, no.” She waves her hands and shakes her head. “I didn’t mean it that way, sir. You don’t have to worry about me. Thank you.”

She walks away then, her hands clasped behind her back.

I have no business being in the same room with Isabella unless it’s to make an heir. And before then, she needs to have my last name. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve dragged it on for too long.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, she becomes mine in the eyes of God and the law.

“Bill,”I drawl as he walks into my office on time. “You’re punctual. That’s good.”

He smiles—a continuous attempt to get on my good side. Which, as far as I’m concerned, is a waste of time. The only reason he’s here, untouched, is because I have use for him.

The moment that ends, he ends.

“Sit.” I point. “Tell me what you have for me.”

He hesitates momentarily before picking up his pace, and my eyes narrow. He perches at the edge of the chair and clears his throat. “I—I found someone who might know where Marco is. Igor Smirnov.”

I stroke my chin. “Who?” I’ve never heard the name before.

“He’s a pakhan,” he says. “He used to be under a different brotherhood but left and formed his organization a few months ago. According to my sources, he was a double agent for Marco when he was still under the brotherhood. When he left, he lay low.”

“So?”

Billie exhales. “He’s back. He’s back, and he’s making a lot of noise. One of my sources said he was bragging about his plan for some families, yours included.”

Mine? My brow arches as I chuckle dryly. “Me?”

He nods. “Yes. But—but not for the reasons you think. He’s smart enough to know that challenging the Volkovs wouldbe a death sentence. What he’s coming for is Isabella Ricci. Some people…” He swallows, his gaze shifty as he contemplates finishing his sentence. “Say that you have Marco Ricci’s daughter.”

“Some?” I say slowly as my lips twitch in a sardonic smile. “What do you think, Billie? Do you think I have the daughter of the man who betrayed and killed my father?”

“I don’t…” He scratches the back of his neck, glancing around furtively. “I don’t know. They say you took her on her wedding day. If you did,sir, I’m sure you had a good reason.”

“Damn right,” I growl, leaning back. “You’re damn right, Billie. And yes”—his eyes almost pop out in shock—“I took her. If you’re curious why, I think you’d find the answer if you ask yourself why you’re still alive.”

His brows furrow in confusion, followed by more perplexity as he scrunches his face. “Because I can help?”

Well…close.

“Why does he want her?” I ask, moving on.

“She’s his fiancée.”

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