Page 16 of Lobanov Bratva Obsession
“Yes.”
“I personally don’t trust her being alive, boss.”
“Yourpersonalconcerns are noted,” I told him, looking out the window.
“No, I mean, I’m… congratulations, boss.”
“Hm,” I uttered, nodding. “Preparations start immediately. I don’t have a date yet, but invitations should be prepared to be sent. It’s going to be a rapid Bratva-sanctioned wedding. Get the lawyers to prepare the legal paperwork binding her lawsuit protections to Bratva interests.”
“Consider it done, boss.”
We got to my main warehouse in minutes, and I got into the swing of business as usual, while Yuri made calls in preparation for the wedding. It took intentional effort not to think of the impending union throughout the day.
But as I got into the bedroom I’d claimed as mine in the safe house, I acknowledged the truth I’d been trying to avoid.
I don’t just want Elena alive, I want her bound to me.
The thought was dark, intoxicating, and final. Desire intertwined with control, and both couldn’t be separated anymore.
*****
Going down to Elena’s room seemed to feel automatic. I was opening the door again before I could even let my acknowledgment breathe.
Elena stood by the window in moonlight, wearing a plain burgundy T-shirt and black joggers that couldn’t hide the flare of her hips despite being loose-fitting. She turned at my entrance, and I watched her expression shift from neutral to alert in the space of a heartbeat.
"Something's wrong," she said immediately.
“And you think that because…?” I prompted.
“I don’t know. You’re giving off a different kind of energy: closed off, predatory, decisive,” she revealed, shrugging.
“So, not only do you sense things quickly as a lawyer, you pick up vibes like a psychic, too,” I remarked.
She didn’t give a response, not even a change of expression. All she gave me was that steady look that told me she was waiting for what I really had to say.
"The situation has escalated." I kept my voice flat, professional, hiding the chaos underneath. "The traitor is getting desperate. You’re no longer safe being independent, arrangement or not."
Her face paled fractionally, but her voice remained steady. “Independent?”
"As opposed to what? Completely under your control?"
"As opposed to being protected by legal and political structures that make you untouchable." I watched understanding flicker across her face, followed quickly by suspicion. "You'll be relocated to a secure estate for a family gathering. Maximum security."
“I’m not some cargo you can ship off wherever you want to,” she lashed out, her upset tone telling me she knew she didn’t have the leverage to refuse this time.
It made me feel some kind of funny, uncomfortable way that I was backing her into a corner.
“You’re not cargo. But we both agree that your safety isn’t a bad thing, don’t we?”
She didn’t answer; she just looked on.
As I left her room, I finalized the last detail in my head: The wedding will happen within the next forty-eight hours.
Let’s get this over with.
It would happen, with or without her consent.
Chapter Seven
