The way Kyrill glanced between us, shaking his head with quiet amusement, made it clear the history between the two men ran deep enough for this ridiculous breakfast involving stolen shirts and territorial Russians to be the most normal thing in the world.
Chapter 27
Sasha
Takinghershoppingseemeddeceptively domestic. Perhaps it should have been my first warning, because there was nothingdomesticabout my little devil.
She needed clothes. This part was simple. While I found it deeply satisfying to see her wandering through my villa in one of my shirts, it wouldn’t do for the days ahead. She looked far too good in my clothes, and I refused to let my men see her like this all the time.
I chose a district I controlled. My uncle had established a territory here months before my arrival, so there were confirmed safe zones we could venture into without fear of an ambush … theoretically.
Theoretically meant lines had been drawn. Lines backed by blood and unwritten agreements understood by both sides. This stretch of coastline and these streets, with their businesses, were mine.
Ours.
Bratva territory.
You didn’t walk into it uninvited unless you were stupid, desperate or looking to start a fight you couldn’t finish.
I sent word ahead and brought a decent amount of security along. I did everything correctly, there should have been zero issues. Nil. Nada.
And still, the moment Addy stepped out of the SUV, it dawned on me that the risk was not external.
It washer.
Addy walked beside me like this was a slightly unhinged honeymoon. The sun hit her hair and she kept tilting her face toward it, closing her eyes and soaking it in. She commented on the architecture, the color of the doors and a fucking stray dog that was completely irrelevant to our mission.
I kept my hand on her waist the whole time. Not because I was afraid she would run away, but because I needed the physical contact. Then again, she might not run away, but I wouldn’t put it past her to chase after a kitten or some other creature.
Two of my men were trailing us at a distance, blending easily into the crowd, yet Addy spotted them almost immediately.
“Are they with us or are we being followed?” she asked conversationally.
Fuck, maybe she was more observant than I’d anticipated.
“They are with us.”
Addy nodded thoughtfully. “Thought so.”
She accepted the presence of the armed security guards the way other women might accept the presence of pigeons in a park: with mild curiosity and minimal alarm.
Inside, the boutique was airy and sun-drenched. The walls were painted a soft coral pink, which made the turquoise ocean visible through the open doorway stand out even more.
The faint clink of fishing boats echoed from the port outside, mingling with the occasional squawk of a seagull.
Behind a carved wooden counter, the owner stood, greeting me with careful respect, his eyes briefly flicking to Addy but never lingering.
That part, at least, was understood.
Addy moved through the store, running her fingers along fabrics, holding dresses up to herself and tilting her head at her reflection in the mirror.
“This one makes me look like I’m about to inherit something,” she called from across the room, holding a fancy dress up to herself.
“I mean, you would if anything ever happened to me,” I replied without thinking.
She peeked around the rack. “What?”
“I told you I’ll take care of you. In, ahh, let’s say my line of work, it’s important to think … ahead.” I cleared my throat. “If you catch my drift.”