Page 83 of Savage Little Secret

I don’t like leaving her alone, but I won’t bring her in front of the Council. I just got her back, and the last thing that I’m going to do is endanger her by putting her in the presence of people who would prefer if she were dead.

Cara’s like glass to me right now, fragile in ways I can’t fix with guns or money.

And I’m terrified my anger will become the next thing that breaks her.

I’m worried that I’ll hurt her somehow, even if all I want to do is keep her safe.

Things are still so fucked up.

Before striding into the conference room where the Bratva Council is waiting, I pause outside of the double doors and take a breath, knowing that even stepping foot inside this building is risky. I’m not their favorite person right now.

That’s why I’ve planted loyal men nearby. If I don’t walk out in an hour, Luca and Andrei will know, and Sean will make sure Cara disappears somewhere safe.

I pull open the double doors and walk inside, setting my jaw as more than a dozen eyes fall on me. I take a seat in the empty chair at the end of the table, my gaze immediately going to Victor as he sits at the other end.

“Let’s get this over with,” I mutter.

Bitter murmurs echo up and down the table as disappointed faces surround me. I never expected to be the black sheep, but I might as well embrace it now.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing teaming up with the Irish?” Victor grits out.

“You know exactly what I was doing,” I tell him as I fix him with a challenging stare. “The Italians took Cara hostage because they were pissed off at me for allying with an exiled family member. They were torturing her, and none of you were going to help me find her. I had to find help elsewhere.”

“You have been burning bridges left and right, Ivanov,” Valentin warns me from my left, looking at me like I’m a misbehaving dog. “Why can’t you just do what you’re told?”

“You pissed off the Suyunovs. Now, you’ve killed Paolo’s nephew! The Ferros want blood,” Pavel adds, tossing a hand up in frustration.

“And why would you ally with someone on the Italians’ blacklist? Are you trying to start a war?” Anton questions me from my right.

“I did what you refused to do,” I say, eyes locked on Victor. “I found Cara. I brought her home. And I ended a war with the Irish that was bleeding us dry and made a new ally.” I lean forward. “You’re welcome.”

Victor scoffs. “As if we want to ally ourselves with the likes of the Irish. Sean O’Malley is trash. Do you truly believe you can trust him just because his daughter has you by the balls?”

I curl my fingers into a fist under the table, holding myself back from splitting his face open. It won’t do me any good right now. I’ve got enough on my plate trying to track down the Italians who escaped from the farmhouse.

“I’m confident in that alliance for now,” I reply in a steady voice. “We’ll need them if the Italians decide to strike back.”

“If?” Pavel scoffs. “Of course, they will! This isn’t a war that we wanted! You need to clean up your mess yet again.”

“He needs to do what he’s told. If he can’t prove himself loyal and useful, he shouldn’t lead anyone,” Valentin says. “Maybe he should be forced out of Las Vegas altogether.”

“Trying to remove me from the city would destabilize Vegas. You’ll lose more than you gain,” I warn them as my eyes sharpen. “I’ve built something here, just like Mikhail wanted, and I plan on staying for a while longer,” I say evenly.

Victor’s face hardens, his fingers pausing in their constant spinning of his family ring. “Built something? You could’ve built an entire empire if you’d just married Annika! That alliance is vital for the Bratva to flourish in this city!”

They’re still overestimating Artur’s worth, but all they see are dollar signs.

“You can still correct some of your mistakes. Grovel at Artur’s feet. Agree to marry his daughter and bridge the divide that you caused,” Anton demands as he jabs his finger toward me.

I can’t help the laugh that rumbles in my chest as I shake my head at them. Honestly, I’m more pissed off than amused. “How many times have I told you that I’m not marrying her? No, and that’s final.”

Victor stands abruptly, making the table shake. “You better watch yourself, Ivanov! You’ve been on thin ice for months now, and if you think that you can just sit there and deny direct orders without consequence, you’re mistaken!”

I don’t even flinch as he bellows at me in Russian, my face remaining stiff and unchanged. Whatever they say doesn’t matter. I’ve come so far that it’s too late to turn back, even if they claim that I can get back into their good graces.

Why the hell would I?

“I’m not trying to harm the Bratva. That’s never been my intention,” I say evenly. “But I won’t roll over and just obey any order. Not if it fucks me over. Throwing me into a marriage just to please one Bratva family isn’t even smart business. Think bigger.”