Page 170 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

I shiver involuntarily and suddenly realize how cold I am. “Why is it so cold in here?”

“Oh.” Arslan reaches for the air conditioner. “You had a slight temperature spike when they took you off the plane. Nikolai wanted to make sure you were cool.”

“Well, now, I’m freezing. Turn the heat up. Please.”

Arslan hesitates before reaching for the air again. “Fine. A bit. But like I said twice now, Nikolai is worried about you. He’s on edge. I’m not throwing myself into the fire for you or anyone.”

“So you just do whatever he says? You blindly follow his orders?”

He smirks. “Is this one of those ‘If Nikolai walked off a cliff, would you follow’ kind of questions?”

“Well, would you?”

Arslan doesn’t even think about it. “Yes. Absolutely.”

“Are you serious?”

“Deadly,” he says.

“But why?”

When his eyes meet mine in the mirror this time, all signs of humor are gone. He really is deadly serious. “Because I’ve never known Nikolai to do something without a damn good reason. Which is the only reason I’m risking bringing the entire wrath of the Greek mafia down on me by transporting his secret pregnant mistress to his house. Because, despite it all, I trust him.”

“I wish I had your trust,” I grumble. “And we don’t know I’m pregnant yet.”

“That’s another thing,” Arslan says. “I’ve known him my entire life. We grew up together in the inner circle of hell and fought for the Bratva side by side for years. He’sneverwrong.”

My stomach twists with nausea. I fold my arms around my midsection like that’ll make all this go away.

Except I can’t quite bring myself to wish I wasn’t pregnant. Even as I’m thinking about how difficult it all will be, there’s a flutter of excitement in my chest. The looming anvil that hung over my head everyday before I set out to start my shift at Tony’s is gone.

“If you want my advice…” Arslan starts.

“I don’t.”

He carries on anyway. “Trust him. Even if you don’t feel it yet, trust him. He’ll earn it.”

“Yeah, no thanks. I’ll stick to hating him instead.”

He guffaws at that. “You don’t hate him.”

“How the hell would you know?”

He catches my eye in the mirror again, one eyebrow raised. “Because sometimes, I’m right about things, too. And I know what hate looks like. This thing between you and Nikolai? That ain’t it, sweetheart.”

The jerky car ride and Arslan’s bargain-brand therapy session is making me nauseous, so I lean my head back and try to relax. Eventually, I’ll try to fight my way out and get myself and Elise out of here.

But right now, there’s nothing to do but wait.

42

NIKOLAI

I watch through the front window as Belle climbs out of the car and runs to Elise. She wraps her baby sister in a hug like she thought she'd never see her again.

As if I'd do something to hurt an innocent little girl.

"Are you okay?" Belle asks, running her hands over Elise's hair.

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