Page 31 of A Bride for the Mafia King

I can feel the hesitation ripple through his entire body. Then he exhales and turns in my arms. His eyes search mine as I look up at him with a doe-eyed expression, softening in a way I’ve never seen before.

He lets the pants fall to the floor and climbs back into bed, pulling me against him with surprising tenderness. His strong arms wrap around me, caging me against his chest.

I nestle into him, heart thudding steadily now. His lips brush the crown of my head, and just before I drift into sleep, I hear his voice low and raw against my skin.

“I’ll stay.”

Chapter Eleven

Tolya

Morning breaks through the blinds in streaks of gold and gray. For once, I don’t rise before the sun. Slowly coming to consciousness I remember I’m in the master bedroom with Eva. I can feel the weight of her against me, warm and soft, her leg hooked over mine, her head tucking under my jaw.

Eva.

I listen to her for a moment, finding the rhythmic calm breathing of her sleep soothing. My hand rests against the curve of her spine, and I don’t want to let go.

And that’s the problem.

Last night was supposed to be sex, just sex. A release, a consummation, duty, and nothing else. My way of reminding her who she belongs to. That I’m still in control.

But then she touched me like that, asking for me to stay, and something in my heart snapped. So I stayed, and not because I had to. Not because I was tired or had nowhere else to go. Because she wanted me to. I rub a hand over my face, exhaling a slow breath through my nose.

How did I get here? I can’t afford to want her like this. Can’t afford to let her get under my skin. It weakens me. And weakness in this world… gets you killed.

My phone buzzes against the wood surface of the nightstand. Carefully, I shift out from under her, untangling our limbs as I reach for the phone. She murmurs in her sleep, brows twitching for just a second, but she doesn’t wake.

I swipe my thumb across the screen. It lights up with a message from Yaro, I have more information on our rat. I’ll be in the penthouse shortly to give you a full report.

Of course he does. The man’s timing is impeccable. Because God forbid I have one day of personal peace. I shut off the screen, setting the phone back on the table as I roll off the bed and head for the bathroom. The floor is cold against my feet, and the mirror fogs while I shower, but the steam does nothing to clear my head.

I towel off, dressing in silence. Black slacks, crisp shirt. I clip the holster into place inside my waistband, tucking the SIG to my side. Always prepared, even in my own home. When I’m done, I return to the bedroom just long enough to look at her again. She hasn’t moved. Still in that same soft sprawl, the comforter tucked around her bare shoulders.

I lean down and kiss her forehead. Light. Gentle. The kind of touch that betrays everything I refuse to recognize. She stirs, lips parting slightly, but sleep pulls her back under. And I leave before I change my mind and end up in that bed with her all over again.

The elevator dings right as I reach the main room. Yaro steps out in an all black suit, as usual. He’s got a folder in one hand, and eyes me with a glint of smug amusement in his eyes. His gaze shifts toward the hallway behind me and back at me.

I cut him off before he opens his mouth. “Not a word.”

His brow lifts, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” I stride toward the office, opening the door and stepping inside. He follows close behind, silent like a shadow.

Once the door clicks shut behind us, the energy shifts. The amusement drains from his face as he tosses the file on my desk and nods at it.

“This is what I’ve uncovered thus far,” He doesn’t sit. “There’s a possibility it goes deeper than just this one man but as of yet I’ve found no further connections.”

I open the folder. Photos. Timelines. Phone records. Surveillance stills from one of our clubs. The name printed at the top turns my stomach.

“Gavril?” I mutter, jaw tightening. “He’s been with us for years. You're sure?”

“Da. About four months ago his gambling debts started stacking up. Someone offered to cover them. In exchange for intel.” Yaro folds his arms. “I cross-checked the dates of the security leaks with when he started losing heavily at The Verge. It lines up.”

“Motherfucker.” My teeth grind together. “And he’s still breathing?”

“For the moment. I wanted to bring you the proof first.” He nodded, “I’ve got him in holding at one of the outlying safe houses. Quiet, remote. I plan to interrogate him fully with your permission at the end of this meeting.”

I stare at the glossy photos spread out before me. Gavril at the docks. Gavril talking to someone in a car we’ve been trying to trace. Gavril outside the De Mello estate two weeks ago. By the looks of it he’s been feeding them information consistently for some time.