“Are you okay?” Matvei asks again, blue eyes as intense as I’ve ever seen them. He’s still cupping my face but pulls back to examine me.
“I’m okay. I’m not hurt,” I tell him, and I mean it this time.
“There’s blood on your dress.” Matvei snarls, a tinge of panic in his tone.
I look to where he’s frantically pulling the fabric at my waist, where uneven circles of red stain the blue gown. For a moment,I think I might have been shot, but a search of the area comes up clean.
“It’s not mine.” I look up and realize there’s a stain spreading along the sleeve of Matvei’s tuxedo jacket. “Shit!You’rethe one who’s hurt!”
I paw frantically until Matvei jerks back with a hiss of pain, clamping his hand down on his arm. He pulls off his jacket and peers at the sleeve of his shirt, stained bright red. “It’s just a graze. It will stop bleeding soon.”
I see the moment his mind discards any concern for his own wound and returns to my well-being. I stare up at his face, at the forbidding expression of anger tinged with concern for me, not himself.
“You saved me. You protected me.”
His face creases into a scowl. “I told you I would. I gave you my word. The contract doesn’t end until I get you home.”
“No.” I put my hand on his good arm. “You protected me with your life. You could have been seriously hurt… or worse.” I don’t want to think about the ‘or worse’ part.
Matvei didn’t have to risk his own life to protect mine. There is nothing in our contract about him dying for me, and besides, I doubt his word extends that far, no matter what he said in the hotel room in Prague.
His life was never part of our bargain.
I’m still staring at him when the sidewalk around us fills with people running and crying. Evgeny is shouting orders at men in dark suits who have seemingly come from nowhere. Sirens echoin the distance, getting closer with every heartbeat that pounds in my ears.
I wrap my arms around Matvei. There’s a second’s hesitation, or maybe surprise, before he pulls me to him, his arms strong and protective around me. And no matter what just happened, no matter that someone was trying to kill me or that I’ve seen this dangerous man kill someone else, I still feel the safest in his arms.
“Matvei!”
Samson and Genevieve are running down the steps, along with her father, who’s shouting. “What the fuck happened?”
“You’re askingmewhat the fuck happened?” Matvei snarls as he pulls away to confront his brother, but not without tucking me safely under his arm, putting his bulk in between me and everyone else. “Are you trying to tell me you’re not behind this fucking attack?”
“I had nothing to do with it!” Samson snaps. “Or I wouldn’t be asking you, you fucking asshole. Why would I have someone killed at my own wedding?”
The sirens become lights dancing across the buildings around us as police cars come to a squealing stop at the curb. Evgeny, Samson, and Genevieve’s father, Rodolfo Mancini, move to greet, or rather intercept, the police.
“Stay here,” Matvei tells me quietly. As soon as he leaves, I feel cold, his absence causing a chill to my bones.
Movement to my left becomes a police officer running toward me. Kelly crashes into me, her embrace so tight I can barely breathe.
“Oh my God, are you okay? What happened? When I heard there was a shooting at the Mancini wedding, I freaked the hell out. Where were you when it happened? Oh my God, you’re hurt!”
I’m glad I know Kelly-speak, because the rush of words would probably be unintelligible to anyone else.
“I’m fine, Kelly, I promise! It’s not my blood.”
My sister stops reaching for her radio, most likely to call for an ambulance, but she doesn’t look convinced. I return the embrace, hugging her tight.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I tell her.
“You know, I didn’t join the CPD just to keep you out of trouble, Sonya. This isn’t going to be a thing, is it?” I hear Kelly’s question for what it is—concern.
“I sure as hell hope not,” I sigh. “I don’t even know what happened.”
Someone clears their throat—pointedly—and we both turn at the sound to see Matvei watching us closely.
“You’re him, aren’t you?” Kelly asks, marching up to theBratvaboss and into his personal bubble. Closer than I’ve seen anyone else get, besides myself.