Sinful Bride (Belaya Bratva 3) - Page 26

“Where did you get this idea from?” Ilsa asked, clearly still surprised that her friend had come up with it to begin with.

Naomi bit her lower lip. and I felt all the blood rush to my cock. We had two groups after us and no plan, but I wanted to push her against the wall and fuck her until we were both sated. “I got it from Maria Afanasyevna.”

I paused as I heard my mother’s name cross her lips, my cock shriveling nearly immediately. “Maria who?” Ilsa asked.

“Gavril’s mother,” Naomi supplied before I had a chance to. “She told me when we visited Russia that sometimes you have to do unspeakable, unpalatable things in order to achieve the end results of protecting the ones you love.”

I swallowed hard. First my mother had decided that all of a sudden she liked my wife, and now my wife was quoting my mother. I felt like I was in some sort of weird, alternate universe.

But she wasn’t wrong. My mother had done unspeakable things early on after my father died to keep our family together, and the sacrifices she had made for me and my sisters could never be repaid. And to think that my last words to her in person had been to throw those very sacrifices back in her face… Suffice to say, I had plenty of amends to make when this was all over.

I didn’t want to put Naomi in that position. She wasn’t going to be in that fucking position. Even if something happened to me, I would have plans in place to ensure that she never had to worry about her future or our kid’s.

She wasn’t going to be my mother and grow into a bitter woman because she had been left behind without a good means of support.

“So how will you ensure you get both Krasnaya and Hampton in the same location?” Marchetti asked. “What will be the bait?”

“Me,” Naomi simply said. “It has to be me.”

“Absolutely not,” I bit out, a sour taste coating my insides. “I’m not putting you in danger like that. Not when you’re finally safe!”

We would come up with something else, but Naomi wasn’t going to be the bait.

“Gavril,” she said softly, laying her hand on my chest. “It has to be me. Jon will never come after you. He wants me, and so will the Krasnaya Bratva so that they can get to you.” She looked up at me. “Besides, didn’t you just tell me that you would protect me?”

I opened my mouth, but promptly shut it. My conscience stated that it was a good plan, and everything she said was making sense. She was the bait that everyone wanted. She was my weakness, and Konstantin knew it.

She could lure them both in and then I could take them out, making them all disappear from our lives forever. We would have to talk about this some more, I decided. I couldn’t let her be in danger. She was carrying my kid.

“I don’t care what you do,” Marchetti drawled. “But you can’t do it here.”

I glanced at him, seeing the decision written all over his face. He wasn’t going to help me. He wasn’t going to get involved.

“Roman,” his wife started but he gave her a look.

“I will not risk you or our child,” he told her, his eyes glancing downward at her protruding belly. “The Marchetti Mafia will not get involved in this war. There’s too much on the line for me, and I’ve already done plenty to burn our claims of neutrality.”

Her expression grew stormy. “She’s my friend,” she stated, crossing her arms over her chest. “She needs help.”

“She is and she does,” Marchetti answered, his eyes flickering to mine. “But I’m not going to insert myself into this war any more than I already have.”

“It’s fine,” I sighed, understanding what Marchetti was trying to tell me. “I don’t blame him.”

Hell, I was in the same position as he was, with a pregnant wife and the driving need to lock her in the bedroom while I went after our enemies. I didn’t want Naomi involved any more than he wanted his wife to be, and I had already lost her one time.

But Naomi wasn’t going to give up, and she wasn’t going to let me take her somewhere safe. The smart thing to do would be to leave her here and let Marchetti take care of her. Reaching out for Naomi’s hand, I pulled her to my side.

“Come on. We are going home.”

We walked to the door. “Kirilenko,” Marchetti called out. “A moment.”

I let go of Naomi’s hand. “Go on to the SUV,” I told her. “I will be there in a moment.”

She glanced over my shoulder but in the end moved toward the waiting brigadiers to be escorted to the SUV. I cleared my throat before turning toward a waiting Marchetti in the hallway, his hands in his pockets.

“I don’t fucking like you,” he started out, his eyes cold.

I gave him a cold smile in return. “I don’t fucking like you either.”

Tags: Brook Wilder Belaya Bratva Romance
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