Page 85 of Stolen By the Don

“No,” I say tightly, my muscles still tense and my eyes on alert as we step out of the elevator onto the busy ground floor of the building. “It’s something I can handle. Don’t worry.”

She sighs. “Sure. It’s not like my contribution ever mattered anyway. I’m still Marco Ricci’s daughter to you, and you’ve got what you?—”

I swing on her so fast the words die on her tongue. “Don’t.” The word feels like sandpaper on my lips. “Don’t you dare cheapen yourself, Isabella. You’renotjust his daughter. I made that clear the second I made you my wife.”

“So I’mjustyour wife, then?” she retorts. “If you think that makes it any better, then the answer is no.”

Not just my wife. Mine. God—mine, in the way that I’ve become hers. But I understand what she means. “I doubt anyone could lay claim on you, printsessa,” I say with a small smile. “You’re the most stubborn, strong-willed person I’ve ever met. I’m barely holding on to you at this point.”

Her mouth twitches in a smile, and she tries to conceal it and fails. “You’ve gotten better at being coy, Roman Volkov. I don’t know whether to be impressed or wary.”

I take her hand in mine, holding it securely. “Let’s go home.”

As we walk closer to the doors, my phone vibrates. I can guess that it’s a text from Leo, but I ignore it. I made that mistake the first time—putting something else in front of my wife.

Not anymore.

We’re only a few steps from the exit, and I see Leo crossing the drop-off area. Then, we hear the sound of sirens and stretchers being rolled in. I pull Isabella to the side, tucking her close and out of the way. Doctors rush to the scene, and everything descends into rushed chaos.

“Sometimes I think I’ll get a call, and that’ll be you,” she whispers beside me as instructions are shouted and nurses hurry in all directions.

I turn, and her eyes are sad, brimming with fear.

“Isabella, I?—”

The sound of a gun clicking, faint but distinct, makes my blood run cold. “Isabella,” I whisper, reaching subtly into my waistband for my weapon. “I need you to leave. Okay? Walk out of the doors without turning around.”

“Wh—”

“No.” I shake my head as she tries to turn to assess the danger I’ve already marked. “Just go. Tell Leo I said Igor slipped through. Tell him to take you home. Sergei will know what to do.”

Her bottom lip trembles as she protests quietly, but I squeeze her hand firmly, my composure steady. “Go.Iyubov moya.”

She nods, and I let her go, watching as she takes tentative steps ahead. I keep my eyes trained, looking for any potential threats around her. I don’t breathe, not until she gets out. Then I turn and tuck into a corner with the chaos as cover.

I see Igor.

Bastard.He grins. I wait for his move while my hand remains nestled on my gun—half concealed. He tucks his gun away and walks toward me.

“How did you know?” he asks.

“You just signed your death warrant, Igor Smirnov,” I growl.

He shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. You’re not going to shoot me in a hospital, are you? Meanwhile, I have people outside who, on my command, are ready to kill your wife and your loyal dog.”

Isabella. Leo.

Fuck. Fuck! He was a diversion.

“Just give me the woman, Roman. And I’ll let him go. Maybe I’ll even give you your child after she gives birth. Who knows?”

“You’re a dead man, Igor,” I repeat as my jaw grinds so hard it almost turns to dust, and my fist curls till my knuckles turn white.

Igor clicks his tongue. “Not when I have the upper hand.” He looks at his watch. “You have a minute to decide, Roman. Or they all go boom.”

I could shoot him.

At this close range, I could put a bullet between his eyes without hesitation. But I don’t know what orders he has—and I could be putting the lives of innocents in danger.

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