Page 47 of A Bride for the Mafia King

Chapter Seventeen

Eva

Yaro’s SUV

The SUV’s engine hums low, vibrating beneath me as I shift against the hard uneven floorboard. My wrists burn where the zip ties cut into my skin, plastic biting at bone.

Every bump in the road slams my hip against the seat frame, but I barely register the pain anymore. I can’t see much—just flashes of dim lights and blurred shadows through the cracks between the seats. Bracing my spine against the center console I suck in a breath, and slam my heel against the side window as hard as I can.

His reaction is instant.

“Enough.”

The metallic click of a safety disengaging cuts through the air like a blade and I freeze, slowly turning my eyes toward the front seat. A pistol angles downward—black, sleek, and merciless—and lands cold and heavy against the side of my head.

“You should behave,” Yaro says. Calm. Almost amused.

My breath catching in my throat, I slowly pull my feet back down to the floorboard. Satisfied, he withdraws the gun and shifts his focus back to the road ahead. One hand on the wheel, the other with the pistol resting casually in his lap like he hadn’t just threatened to blow my brains out.

We drive in silence for a long stretch. My heart pounds hard inside my chest, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of asking questions or begging for my life. I know him well enough to know he would get amused satisfaction out of either. I can feel him watching me in the rearview mirror. Waiting. Enjoying the moment of power over me.

Finally, he breaks the silence, speaking up when I don’t give him the satisfaction he is craving.

“I bet you’re wondering why I’m doing this.” His voice is low, conversational. Almost friendly. “If it’s some bullshit about protecting Tolya, or keeping him focused, or eliminating a suspected Italian sleeper spy.”

He chuckles darkly. “But I’ll tell you that it’s nothing quite so noble.”

I inch my face toward the bottom of the window, trying to catch any hint of where we are. It’s no use. The angle’s wrong, the floor too low for me to see anything without my movements being blatantly obvious.

Yaro continues, his voice darkening. “You think I care that you’re fucking up his judgment? That you’re softening him? That you’re in the way?”

He snorts, then glances down at me and I freeze again. His smile cold.

“No, Eva. This is personal.”

When he turns back to the road the SUV slows, gliding onto a more uneven road. I can hear gravel crunches under the tires.

“You want to know the real reason?” His tone turns venomous, and his grip tightens on the wheel. “Because he took something from me.”

My stomach coils.

“My father,” he mutters. “He was the Pakhan’s personal bodyguard. Loyal to the end. He died protecting Tolya during a botched deal at the beginning of his reign years ago. Took two bullets to the chest so Tolya could crawl away. And of course as the faithful son I got to take up his mantle.”

He grips the steering wheel like he wants to strangle it. “You know how hard it’s been watching his six all these years when all I want to do is put a bullet between his eyes?”

The SUV jerks slightly as he pulls off the road.

“All we got afterward was money. A neatly packaged apology with a wad of blood money inside. Like it could make up for the fact that the only man who gave a damn about us was dead. My mother cried for a week straight. Then she stopped crying. She stopped everything.”

He swallows hard.

“She died six months later. The doctors said her heart gave out from heart disease, but I know better. She died of a broken heart. Forty-three years they’d been together. Forty-three long years. She just couldn’t go on without him.”

The sky outside was growing darker, shadows stretching into the cab of the SUV.

“Tolya tried to buy his way out of what he owed. Out of guilt. Out of shame. Out of responsibility. He thought money would cover the cost of losing my family. We are raised to be hard, unfeeling. But the truth is we are just like everyone else.”

He finally looks at me again—really looks. His eyes are flat, glinting with triumph.