Jozef woke Shaun shortly before the plane landed. She grumbled at him for making her sit up and put her seatbelt back on. "We're on a private jet, I should be able to sleep through the landing." You can sleep but you have to do it sitting up with your seatbelt on. "And my tray table in an upright and locked position. Blah, blah, blah. You own the aircraft, you can suspend a few of the rules." She patted her hair, wincing when it felt as bad as she suspected it looked. That was the problem with wearing an afro. She had to have an emergency recovery effort whenever she slept. "I worked a twelve-hour shift at the hospital with four of those hours on my feet in surgery. I need to get my beauty sleep before I have to dodge mafia bullets." Not funny, Jozef signed, pulling the blanket from her lap, folding it and setting it aside. She found it endearing that Jozef tended to be the more domestic of the two of them. I won't compromise with yo
Havel's steps were muffled as he navigated the path from the mansion to Leeza's cottage. Leeza and Adam's cottage, he corrected himself. The home that they'd built together. The place where they'd created a family. After Adam's discovery in the closet safe room, six months earlier, it had been decided that he wasn't a threat. He was allowed to return to his cottage, allowed to resume his work. Or so Adam believed. In reality, Jozef and Havel had decided that no decisions would be made about the other man's fate until Leeza was found and brought home. Jozef thought perhaps she would try to contact her husband and they could trace her. Havel knew better. Leeza wouldn't contact Adam. She hated the man. No, that wasn't true. She used to hate him. Now, she didn't think enough of him to hate him. She wouldn't contact Adam because she wouldn't think of it. As far as she was concerned, the man she married all those years ago was useless to her. Havel kne
Jozef greeted the Bratva with nods and handshakes as he accepted his place among them. He'd been led by their footman to the 'study' where business was conducted during those times when it absolutely must occur on palace grounds. In general, the palace was used as a vacation home for the top members of the Bratva, not business. Jozef believed the Bratva had brought him to the palace to make a statement. They wanted him to know that he was welcome among them. If they'd been trying to intimidate him, they would have invited him to Moscow. If that had been the case, Jozef would've left Shaun behind, despite the invitation making it clear that her presence was mandatory. Jozef didn't care if he went to war with the entire Bratva organization, he would protect his wife with the last breath in his body. Fortunately, for their sake, it seemed the Bratva didn't want him dead. There were eleven men in the room. Jozef recognized all of them. The eldest memb
Shaun slipped from the bed, pulling on a fluffy bathrobe provided by their hosts as she hurried to the door. She didn't want the knocking to wake Jozef, though he was sleeping heavily, snoring loud enough to wake the recently departed. With a hand at the top of her robe, she opened the door. "Yes?" she asked sleepily. "Your morning repast, Mrs. Koba." A servant spoke in halting English, waving toward a cart with covered trays. Shaun stepped back so he could wheel the cart inside. He placed the covered trays, a pot of coffee, cream and sugar on the small table next to windows with panoramic views of the rear mansion park. Shaun could definitely get used to this kind of service. "This is for you, ma'am." The servant held a card out to Shaun. Shaun sat at the table, opening the envelope, her curiosity peaked. It was an invitation, quite fancy, considering the contents. It was written in English, in sprawling calligraphy.
Shaun sucked in a breath as images from that day slammed through her. She had worked with her counsellor on mitigating their impact, but when the head of the Vor told her she was meant to be dead, it was like a fresh wound being ripped open again. "So I've been told," she murmured, bringing her teacup to her lips with a shaking hand. "You survived." He didn't sound either approving or disapproving, and Shaun wondered where the direction of the conversation was going. "You were poisoned, and you survived. You were attacked, stabbed, and you survived. Your husband was attacked, many within the building fell, yet you still survived." A chill ran through Shaun and she felt nauseous. She desperately wished she'd told Jozef where she was going. Was Ivan angry over the deaths that seemed to follow Shaun? Did he blame her for what happened to Krystoff? She didn't know what to say to Ivan, but he'd paused, seeming to expect some kind of response. "Yes, I survived."
Fatima giggled at Shaun's description of a drunk Jozef. "He must've been a bear the next morning," Fatima mused. "It seems so out of character for him to overindulge." Shaun laughed and sipped the rich burgundy liquid from her wine glass. "He was certainly growling like a bear. It took a lot of convincing before he would let me take care of him, but I finally got some painkillers and toast into him and he turned back into a human. Later, he told me he rarely drank that much and didn't plan on ever doing it again." "Famous last words." "Yes," Shaun agreed. "Though Jozef is usually pretty responsible. I think it was the excitement of meeting with the other Vor for the first time. I wonder if the other wives discovered drunk husbands in their rooms that night?" Shaun was filling her mother in on the details of her trip to Russia with Jozef. The five days spent at the palace were indeed the vacation Jozef had suggested they would be. Except for evening m
Nikolay had a bad feeling. He'd had it for months, but when no one accused him of betraying Jozef, he'd shoved the feeling aside. They didn't know. He was safe. Then why did he feel like the sword of Damocles was hanging over his head, awaiting the right moment to drop? "Saskia." He'd been standing in the shadows outside her suite, waiting for her to appear. She was coming down the hall toward him, her blue headphones wrapped around her neck, her wild brown hair a messy halo around her head. She wore tight ripped jeans, a black hoodie and running shoes. It hit him that she was really quite beautiful in her own way. He'd never found her particularly attractive when they'd dated. She was too wild and headstrong, and he preferred his women compliant. Submissive. Not words one could use in association with Saskia Koba. Yet, in this moment, with the light of the sun behind her, she looked ethereal. He felt a moment of loss, but quickly shook it away. His
Jozef didn't know what to do. It was a strange sensation for him. He always knew what to do, but this time he was out of his element. He crouched next to Shaun's chair, holding her hands in his as she sobbed. He hated every tear that crawled down her face. He was usually the one to cause her tears, but this time, it wasn't him. It was the doctor who'd disappeared discreetly from the room. They were in the fertility clinic where Shaun had gotten her referral. They'd been called to the clinic for the results of their first round of testing. Her tears dripped onto his hands where they were clasping hers. He bowed his own head, blinking back his own tears. Her heart was breaking, and he couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't kill the thing without hurting the woman he loved more than anyone or anything in the world. He couldn't kill PCOS. Polycystic ovary syndrome. Shaun was infertile and the diagnosis was destroying her. He would have to take go