Ravaged Throne: A Russian Mafia Romance (Solovev Bratva #2)(76)

“If it were that easy, don’t you think he’d be dead already?” Leo asks. “Ariel would have killed him a thousand times over if that were the case.”

“He won’t expect it from me.”

“You’re my wife. Anya’s daughter. Of course he’ll be expecting it from you,” he snaps. “Think, Willow. You’re going to get yourself killed right along with Pasha. I can’t lose you both.”

I can’t lose you both. His words still me. Now who’s the one who’s not thinking clearly? It’s hard to imagine Leo being afraid. I don’t think he’s capable of it. But this feels awfully close.

“I’ll be okay,” I whisper. “It’s a good plan. I know it.”

I look him in the eyes. They’re swimming with clouded, turbulent emotions. I’m sure mine look exactly the same.

But for one moment, it feels like we might break through. Like a ray of light is almost there, ready to burst through the storm clouds. A ray of trust. A ray of hope.

A ray of love.

Then it falters, and the storm rages on. “You don’t know anything,” he snaps.

I pull away from him and start towards the mountain path. He’s not going to listen to me, and I can’t listen to him. Especially when I know I’m right.

He strides up beside me. “You’re acting like a child, Willow.”

“Leave me alone.”

“So you can run off to Belov and get killed?” he asks. “Fat chance.”

“Like you care?” I shoot back. “You’re just interested in keeping Pasha alive to preserve your legacy. You’re not impotent like Belov. If he and I die, you have plenty of women willing to make you more babies.”

His hand clamps around my arm and pulls me to face him. I gasp, but bite it off as he towers over me.

His face is black with fury. I was angry and I said something I didn’t mean, but I can’t take it back. The words are lodged in my throat.

And he can see it. He can see I’m not backing down. After all, I learned the art of that from him.

“If that’s what you think of me,” he hisses, “then maybe you’re better off with Belov.”

He drops my arm just as suddenly as he grabbed it and leaves me alone on the path.





31





LEO





“Can I come in?”

I throw Gaiman a cursory glance and a grunt that he decides to interpret as permission. He slips in and closes the door behind me.

“Is there a reason it’s so dark in here?”

“The blinds are down.”

He shoots me an annoyed look. “Yeah, I got that bit. You done with that drink?”

I down the last sip and hold out my glass. “You can pour me another.”

“Your wish is my command,” he mutters, refilling my glass and handing it back over.

Then he gets himself one and fills it halfway. We sit and drink together. There’s nothing like a silent drink in good company. Correction: there’s nothing like a silent drink in silent company.

That’s the nice thing about Gaiman. He respects my boundaries and my moods. Jax always bounds in like a golden retriever puppy, doing tricks to cheer me up.

Only when our glasses are empty does Gaiman speak. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

“Because you’ve been holed up in here since the moment we got back from the meeting.”

“I’ve had a lot to think about.”

“Belov or Willow?” he asks.

“It’s hard to tell where one starts and the other one stops.” I push my glass towards him. “Pour me another.”

This time, he gives me only a raised eyebrow.

“What?” I demand.

“It’s ten in the morning.”

“Did I stutter? Pour the fucking drink.”

With a little sigh, Gaiman pours me a stingy bit of whiskey. I snatch the bottle out of his hands, top myself off, then set it back down and take a satisfying sip.

“She’s out in the backyard training right now,” he tells me—a little unnecessarily, since I know where Willow is at all times. “Y’know, it’s only been a year, but the two of you fight like an old married couple.”

I roll my eyes. “I expect that kind of funny, gossipy bullshit from Jax. Not from you.”

“I’m not trying to be funny—”

“Good. Because you’re not.”

He sighs and cracks his neck. “I’m guessing she disagrees with whatever plan of action you’ve come up with?”

“More like the other way around,” I mutter. “She wants to play into that fucker’s hands. She wants to offer herself up and get close enough to him to kill him.”

“Sounds reckless.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell her.”

He nods in agreement, but I can tell from his face that he has something else he wants to say. He’s just looking for the right way into the conversation.

“For fuck’s sake, just spit it out, Gaiman,” I snap.

He exhales. “She’s a mother,” he says quietly. “Her first instinct is going to be to throw herself into the fire to protect her child.”