Page 123 of Devil's Vows
The warmth in the room seems to leave with him, and I curl up, biting my lip to stop a sob from ripping through me. This man knows just how to break my heart.
63
IVAN
When I sit down at my desk twenty minutes later, I stare at my black laptop screen for a long time, then gather my hands to my face and rake my fingers through my shower-wet hair.
Fuck it.
Somewhere along the line, I fucked up. Instead of going back to check in on Gabriella, I rushed past her closed bedroom door and came to do what I need to do: phone Matteo Scalera.
At some point, while we were consummating our marriage, it felt as if a bullet whizzed past my head, missing its target with less than half an inch to spare. It’s the aftershocks of the coup that still haunt me, combined with the knowledge that some Russian crime lord is on her scent like a bloodhound. I got triggered to make these urgent calls, but Gabriella deserved more.
More aftercare, more assurance, more cuddles.She was crying for fuck’s sake, you fucking idiot.
Darya wasn’t a virgin when we got married, and she couldn’t get away fast enough from me after sex. That’s what I got used to in the marriage bed, never expecting more, but now I’ve doled out the same to Gabriella, if for a different reason.She’s new to this, and whatever I teach her is what’s going to stick. I’m going to wonder forever what trauma Darya suffered, trauma I never asked about and she never talked about, but leaving Gabriella like I did was harsh.
It wasn’t intentional. It was more like a knee-jerk reaction, because in my mind’s eye, I was having disturbing visions. A predator at our door. Nothing I could pinpoint, but they were born out of her biggest fear—now my biggest fear: of someone coming for her, hurting her…killing her.
All I know is if anybody touches my wife, even thinks of hurting her, I’ll murder them with my bare hands. Been there, done that, and adding to the tally won’t bother me in the least.
I sigh and shake off my anxiety. If I actuallydosomething, it will help.
Fuck. Maybe, if I can deal with this call quickly, I’ll still find her in bed and can strip and this time really get her to gasp out ‘yellow’.
Something tells me that ship has sailed for today.
I turn to the safe and extract her Bible, mentally shoving this morning’s disaster away and getting in the right headspace for this call. I might have fucked up, but I have time to fix things.
I page through Gabriella’s Bible again, taking a few notes, then I dial Matteo Scalera’s number.
“Petrov,” he says in greeting. “To what do I owe the honor? It’s a bit early in the marriage?—”
“Scalera,” I cut him off. “Gabriella is in danger. I’m not sure how bad it is or who is connected here, but she’s being hunted.”
Several beats of silence and I almost feel the tension twist in him over the line. “Fill me in.”
I don’t give details, just high-level pointers to her being marked, then sketch him a copy of the picture she drew us last night.
“I don’t doubt my wife,” I say, surprised how easily the wordwifeslips from my tongue, not with the snark I used last night, but with affection, “but I want to know if you see any connections here, can share any insights?”
“You’re sure it’s Bratva?Russian?” Matteo asks on a sigh, and in the background, his chair is creaking.
“Yep. Yuri agrees, it’s definitely Russian.”
“Then you should know better than us. We’re Mafia, not Bratva. Before our deal, we hadn’t had business connections with any Russians.”
“Youmaybe haven’t but given what Randazzo was involved with as her ‘father,’ she’s inherited business with Russian Bratva on that side.”
Matteo hisses in a breath and grunts. I just hit a nerve.
“Fuck. Never kill a man until he’s had his fill of talking.”
“What’s that?” I ask, sitting straighter.
“Just a little impulse I regret.”
I hitch my brows. Don Randazzo is dead at Matteo’s hand? That’s something we weren’t aware of. Just goes to show, our little mutual mole is selective with the information he shares.
