Chapter 20

Victor

I WATCHas Laura devours the last piece of her Belgian waffle, topped with a mountain of whipped cream, fresh strawberries, and a drizzle of chocolate sauce. She’s already polished off a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast.

What the hell? Has she been starving herself all this time?

She looks up at me, a contented smile on her face, and I realize I’m smiling back.

No. Stop it.

“So, enjoying the food?” she asks, syrup lingering on her lips.

I can’t stop staring at her fucking lips, syrup clinging to them like an invitation.

Fucking irresistible.

Part of me wants to reach across the table and lick it off to see if she tastes as sweet as she looks. I’m hit with a vivid image of yanking her into my lap, crushing my mouth against hers until she’s breathless and panting. Fuck, just the thought has my balls drawing up tight, lust slamming into me.

Fuck. Get a grip, Morozov.

I clear my throat awkwardly, shifting in my seat as I try to will away the growing bulge in my pants. “Seems like you’re trying to eat the entire menu,” I quip, raising an eyebrow. “Planning to hibernate?”

She laughs, a genuine, hearty sound that makes her eyes crinkle at the corners. “Maybe. It’s just nice to eat with someone for a change.”

Something in her tone makes me pause. “What, you don’t usually eat with people?”

“Well, not really. David, I mean Dave, he… He’s not really the breakfast kind…” Laura takes a deep inhale, stopping herself. It’s clear she doesn’t want to talk about that creep of an ex-husband.

“So, is today a special occasion or something?” she asks, changing the topic. There’s a playful glint in her eye. “I mean, first the bookstore, now this fancy breakfast… If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to impress me.”

I snort. “Don’t flatter yourself, wife. I just figured you could use a decent meal after all that crying.”

She laughs, the sound warm and rich. “Well, consider me impressed anyway.”

I open my mouth to reply, but I’m interrupted by the arrival of our waiter. He’s young, probably in his early twenties, with a mop of artfully tousled hair and a too-bright smile.

“How are we doing over here?” he asks, his eyes lingering on her as he refills her coffee with a flirtatious wink. “More coffee for the lovely lady?”

My jaw clenches as I watch him, the urge to punch his smug face growing stronger.

“Hey, Romeo. She’s fine. Why don’t you go polish some cutlery?” I snap, the words harsher than necessary. The waiter backs off, hands raised, and Laura’s hand touches my arm.

“Can you stop being angry at everything and everyone?” she chides, her tone light but serious.

I shrug, brushing off the lingering irritation. “It’s part of my charm.”

She rolls her eyes again, but there’s a softness there that wasn’t before. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re grumpy.”

Cute?

No woman ever pegs me as cute—I’m the damn Pakhan.

But here I am, grinning like an idiot over her compliment, feeling like a dog that’s just scored the juiciest bone. Happy as hell and completely whipped.

I lean back in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m not grumpy. I’m just not a morning person.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” she teases, but there’s a note of affection in her voice that makes my chest feel tight.

Focus, Morozov.

Leaning forward, my expression turns serious. “Speaking of fooling… I want to know what the fuck Dave wanted at our wedding.”

Laura nearly chokes on her water, her eyes widening. “What?”

“You heard me. That little weasel didn’t just show up to wish us well. He wanted something from you. And I want to know what it was.”

The color drains from her face, the earlier happiness vanishing in an instant. She sets down her glass with a shaky hand, her gaze darting around the restaurant like she’s looking for an escape route.

I need her to talk. I need to know what the fuck is going on.

So, I take a deep breath to steady my rising temper.

I lean in, my voice low and insistent. “Laura. What did he want from you?”

She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, her gaze darting away from mine. “Victor, I… It’s complicated.”

“So uncomplicate it for me,” I growl, my patience wearing thin. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re hiding something. And in our world, secrets can get you killed.”

Her face pales at my words, and for a moment, I almost feel guilty for pushing her. But I can’t afford to have any weaknesses, any vulnerabilities that our enemies could exploit.

Even if that vulnerability is my own fucking wife.

Laura takes a shaky breath, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “Okay,” she whispers. “I’ll tell you. But not here. Somewhere private.”

I nod curtly, signaling for the check. As I pull out my wallet, I can’t shake the feeling that whatever she’s about to reveal is going to change everything.

“Where are we going?” she asks as I slide into the backseat beside her.

I reach over and pull the seatbelt across her, clicking it into place. Letting my hand brush gently against her arm, I pause just a moment to feel the closeness.

“Somewhere we can talk,” I reply cryptically, nodding at Misha.

Misha fires up the engine, glancing in the rearview mirror with that hawk-like vigilance that’s kept us alive more times than I can count. He pulls out into the traffic, and we start the drive to the helipad located just outside the city, a place discreetly dubbed as The Aerie. It’s about an hour’s drive from Manhattan, giving us plenty of time alone.

Laura is quiet, staring out the window as the city skyline fades into the distance.

I can’t take the silence anymore. “Do you want to tell me why Dave was at the wedding?” I ask, trying to keep my tone even.

Laura’s head snaps toward me, her eyes wide. She glances quickly at Misha, then back at me, pressing her lips together.

She doesn’t want to talk in front of him.

“I hide nothing from Misha,” I tell her firmly. “Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of both of us.”

Misha meets my eyes in the rearview mirror, his expression serious. He’s ready to hear this, too.

Laura pauses, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “He… He wanted to know where the ledger was.”

I frown. “Ledger?”

“Yes…” She hesitates again, and I feel my patience starting to fray.

This woman is going to kill me with all this suspense.

“What ledger, Laura?” I ask, my tone sharper than I intended.

She flinches slightly, twisting her hands in her lap. “I found a ledger in my apartment. The day you… The day you took me.”

She looks at me then, a mixture of confusion and fear in her green eyes. I tilt my head, studying her. “Did you look inside?”

I see Misha’s knuckles whiten on the steering wheel, his grip tightening as he listens intently.

“Yes,” Laura whispers.

“And?” My voice is louder now, and I make an effort to soften it. “Laura, this is important. I need you to tell me everything you know about this ledger.”

She nods, blinking back tears. Of course she’s scared. She’s not cut out for our world.

Ksenia’s voice echoes in my head. “She’s not like us, Vitya. She’s too soft.”

I push the thought away. Blyad, she’ll have to toughen up fast if she wants to survive.

“It’s… It’s a ledger for Vasil… Vasiliev Corp,” Laura says, stumbling over the name.

I feel a chill run down my spine. “You mean a ledger for Vasiliev Corporation?”

She nods, her eyes wide. “Yes. Vasiliev. Is that… Is that the same Vasiliev who ambushed you?”

I exchange a dark look with Misha in the mirror. If Laura found a Vasiliev ledger… This changes everything.

“Yes,” I say grimly. “The very same.”