Chapter 20

HOLLAND

I try to open one of my eyes and I’m hit with a painful light that is so bright it takes over my entire being. Rolling onto my side, I whimper as I try to open my eyes again, but the room spins. I don’t know what happened last night. The last thing I remember was talking to Grisha and drinking. Moaning, I try not to think of the drinking.

So much drinking.

So much vodka.

There is a knock on the door and it opens slowly. I can hear it creak open, even though I know it’s not really loud, but I feel like it is. Inhaling a deep breath, I try to open my eyes and I see him standing across from me.

“Grisha,” I exhale.

“Food downstairs. You need to eat.” “No food,” I groan.

He chuckles. “Food and coffee. Water. I was told to expect a call from Danill sometime today.” “Danill?” I ask.

Pushing myself up, I look around and lift my hand to my forehead.

He stays where he is, then takes a step toward me, and another. “Do you need help?”

“I think I have this,” I whisper. “Maybe.” “Maybe?” he asks on a chuckle.

“Probably not, but I’m not going to fall down in front of you,” I say.

He laughs, then takes a step back, holding his hands up, then turns around and I hear the door close quietly. Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I clear my throat and look over to the bathroom. I need to make it. I’ll probably puke when I get in there, but as long as I make it there, that’s all that I care about.

My legs are shaky with every step that I take. They’re wobbling as I keep my palm against my forehead, trying to make it to the bathroom before I puke everywhere. It feels like it takes a lifetime to make it to the bathroom. Once my feet hit the cold tile, I know that I’m free to be sick.

And I am just that.

Sick.

After attempting to clean myself up, a hot shower, teeth brushed, I pull on one of Danill’s oversized black T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants before I head downstairs.

I don’t know when or if Danill is going to be calling, but I want to be ready for him when he does. And in order to be ready, I need to be at least sober and right now I don’t feel sober at all.

I almost cry out with pleasure at the sight of the bacon, eggs, fruit, biscuits, pancakes, and sausage links. It’s a hangover’s dream. Sucking in a breath, I sink down and start to load up my plate with food.

I forget the diets, forget the clothes that I’ll have to fit into later, I forget all of it, because right now I’m feeding my hangover and that’s all that I care about. All I fucking care about. I shove food in my face, not giving a fuck about Grisha or anything else, until I hear a deep chuckle.

Turning my head, my fork suspended in the air, I look over at the man who laughed. There is a strange man watching me, with Eriks standing behind him, his eyes on me and a smirk on his face.

“Hello?” I ask with a mouthful of food.

“It’s amusing to see a beautiful woman eat. You don’t see that too often, yes?”

Sitting up straighter, I bring my napkin to my face and wipe the grease and gristle off of my lips. I feel like a slob, as I turn to the man, watching him for a moment and wondering who the hell he is and why he’s sitting at my breakfast table.

“I’m Ludis, Danill’s attorney.”

I breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of the attorney and at the same time I’m filled with anxiety for what this could mean. What he could tell me. He clears his throat, his eyes focused on mine, holding my gaze and I suck in a breath, holding it until he finally speaks.

“We have a good case. I don’t think that he’ll spend any more time in jail than just awaiting his trial,” he begins.

“What happens now?”

“You’ll need to be at his hearings. You’ll be there?” “I’ll be there.” I’m firm in my words and I will be there.

Granted, me being there will no doubt cause a circus, but I haven’t looked at the celebrity gossip so I don’t know what that will mean for Danill, if it will ruin anything or not. I start to ask that exact question when Ludis reaches across the table and I feel his fingers curl around my forearm.

“You must appear to be the doting, loving, heartbroken new wife. You can do this?”

“That’s who I am,” I whisper.

He nods his head. “Good. Stick with that.”

I lean forward and look directly into his eyes. “It’s who I am, Ludis,” I say again, making sure that he understands me completely.

His eyes widen before he clears his throat to speak. “Good.”

His word doesn’t make me feel any better. In fact, I feel like I need to prove myself, prove my devotion to Danill, to this group, this Mafia, even though I’m not sure it’s something that I even want to be part of. I don’t feel like I have a choice, though, at least not right now. I need to see Danill, I need to talk to him. I need to know what the hell is really going on.

DANILL

WHEN I’M TOLD that I can make a call, the first number that I dial is my own. Maybe I should be calling Ludis, maybe I should be calling my Pakhan, Kazimir. Or maybe I should be calling Grisha, who I know is looking after my world. But I don’t. Instead, I call Holland.

“Danill?” her voice calls out as soon as she picks up.

“Kroshka,” I breathe. “Are you okay?”

“Danill, tell me what’s going on…”

I interrupt her, knowing that she is no doubt going to ask me about being arrested, about the Bratva, but this call is monitored and I can’t have that shit.

“We’ll talk when we can, Holland. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” she whispers.

“You’re not,” I state.

She doesn’t say anything right away and I don’t prod her. Instead, she lets out a sigh. “It’s a lot to process,” she whispers. “Your friends keep saying you stole me. But you didn’t.”

“Didn’t I?” I ask on a chuckle.

“Can you steal something that wants to be taken?” she asks.

Pinching my eyes closed, I let out a low laugh. “Kroshka,

I’m glad to hear you like being mine, yeah?”

“I do,” she whispers. “I miss you.”

“I’ll be home soon.”

My words are a promise that I don’t know if I can even keep. Lifting my hand, I run my fingers through my hair and then I ask her another question. One that I don’t know if she’ll answer truthfully, but I hope she does.

“You’ll be in court?” I ask.

I don’t know why I’m nervous. I’ve never been nervous a day in my adult life. In fact, I think the last time that I was, I was probably eight or nine years old. Probably when I had my first kill. That was a bit nerve-racking, if I have to say so myself.

“I’ll be there, Danill. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“This wasn’t the way I wanted to start us,” I confess.

She doesn’t say anything right away and I hear someone shout that my time is almost finished. Clearing my throat, I lean my forehead against the wall. “I gotta go, kroshka. Be good, yeah?”

“You know I will be,” she says, her voice soft and sweet.

“Will you?” I ask.

I can’t stop thinking about Nate, about the way he hugged her and touched her. I killed him, but the memories of the way he obsessed over her, I wish that I could kill him all over again. Slice his throat and feel his warm blood all over my entire body again.

Once wasn’t e-fucking-nough.

I want to know if Nate has been found, or at least if he’s been reported missing. She doesn’t say anything and I don’t ask. That’s all I need, for these fuckers to find out that I was the last person to see Nate alive and then try and pin me with that shit, too.

“I will. I miss you, Danill. I want you to come home soon.”

The guard clears his throat and shouts that my time is up. “I’ll see you soon, Holland.”

Ending the call, I walk away from the phone and past the guard. He grunts at me and I grin up at him. He’s one of the ones that is on our payroll. Thankfully. He’s in charge of my cell and I get a few perks. But not much, it’s still very much fucking jail.

Walking back to my cell, I sink down on the edge of my cot and pinch my eyes closed. I need to get the fuck out of here, and fast. I need my wife. My wife who says that she wanted to be taken by me. That she wasn’t stolen.

Fuck.

How did I get this lucky?

Gorgeous and all mine.

Fuck me, I need to get out of this place.