Champagne Venom (Orlov Bratva, #1)(64)

ROWAN: Be there in ten.

I put my phone aside and order an almond milk latte for Rowan, another immune booster for me, and the pastry basket for both of us to share.

My appetite comes and goes lately. When it comes, I like to shovel as much food into my body as I can manage. Today, that includes two jelly danishes, two chocolate croissants, and a trio of honey butter biscuits, with plenty of room for more.

By the time the pastry basket hits the table, Rowan is walking into the shop with her own laptop tucked under her arm.

She sits down in the chair across from me and nods approvingly. “This is a nice change of scenery.

My insulin disagrees, but the rest of me is onboard. Although…”

I arch a brow. “Although what?”

“Is there any reason this change in scenery was necessary?” she asks.

I groan. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only to me,” she promises.

Pressing my forehead to the cool table surface, I mutter, “Misha has been a little… hovery.”

Rowan chuckles and helps herself to a danish. “I think it’s cute. He obviously cares about you. He wants to make sure you’re okay.”

“I can’t exactly establish any authority with my big, bad husband skulking around my department, giving everyone dirty looks if they fail to address me with proper reverence.”

“I actually quite enjoy his little impromptu appearances.”

“That’s because you’re the only one in his good graces.”

She winks and playfully flips her hair over her shoulder. “Oh, I dunno… I think I’d enjoy them either way. He is very nice to look at.” I shake my head at her, and she laughs freely. She’s always so much more relaxed when we’re out of the office. “But seriously, it must be so weird for you. Married to the boss.”

“You have no idea. I’m still getting used to working for him. Let alone being married to him.”

“Well, he wasn’t wrong to promote you, you know. I’ve worked for this company long enough to know when someone has the skills to pay the bills. You’ve got ‘em.”

“I ran my own business for six years, so I do know what I’m doing,” I tell her, refusing to sell myself short. “But never on this scale.”

She waves away my concern. “You can handle it.”

“I just wish Misha would back off a little. Give me some space.”

“I’m not sure men like him are built to take a step back, hon,” Rowan tells me gently. “He’s the CEO

of a multi-billion dollar company. ‘Control’ is his middle name.”

The thought strikes me that I have no clue what his middle name is. Maybe I should figure that out. So many little secrets he keeps jealously protected for God-knows what reason.

“That may be true, but he’s not going to control me.”

“You mean at work, right?” Rowan asks.

“Yeah. And in general.” I frown at her. “Wait, what do you mean?”

She smiles mischievously. “Well, there are some times where, occasionally, a woman like you might not technically mind being controlled by a man like him. Like… in bed, for instance.”

My entire body burns red. “Rowan!”

She cackles. “I knew it! The sex must be off the charts. Tell me more.”

I cover my face with my hands, peeking between my fingers to see if anyone near us is listening in.

“Well, am I wrong?” she whispers, leaning close.

This is so far from appropriate, but the truth is practically bursting out of me. “The sex is… good.”

“Good?”

“Great,” I admit as Rowan claps her hands together with triumph. “Amazing. The best sex I’ve ever had in my life. Honestly, I didn’t think it was possible to have so many orgasms in one night.”

“You lucky bitch!”

My hand slips down to my belly. I still haven’t told her I’m pregnant yet. It feels like a betrayal the

longer I keep it from her. Then again, there’s so many things about my so-called marriage that I haven’t shared.

As far as Rowan is concerned, Misha and I fell in love and had a whirlwind romance that turned into a spontaneous elopement. It’s a romantic story. I enjoy telling it. It’s nice to pretend, even if just for a little while.

I reach for another croissant and freeze. Through the plate glass window at the front of the shop, I see a familiar face.

A shudder works through me. It’s a bone-deep instinct. A sign to get back to Orion immediately.

“Paige?” Rowan asks, frowning. “Are you okay?”

“No. We’ve got to go. Now.” I slam my laptop closed, nearly spilling my coffee.

Rowan is confused, but she follows my lead, gathering her stuff. “But why? What happened?”

“I think I’m being followed,” I whisper.

Rowan arches around, scanning the room. “Like stalked? By who?”

I utter his name just as he passes by the window, slipping out of sight.

“Petyr Ivanov.”





47

PAIGE

Rowan’s face pales immediately. How much does she know?

When I was Misha’s assistant, he took me with him to a meeting. Has Rowan been to one? Has she seen the thirty-two guns Misha came armed with to make sure Petyr wouldn’t try to kill him?