Page 72 of Ruthless Reign
But who knows. It’s not like Anatoly tells me anything, especially since I’ve come home from London. He’s been busy with work, and I’ve been “busy” wedding planning—a convenient lie that has allowed me to avoid him as much as possible.
As long as he stays away from Sofiya, I can deal with him.
Roman’s phone rings, and he takes the call through bluetooth. “Privet.”
“Get your ass to the office. You’re going to want to see this,” a deep male voice—that I recognize as Pavel’s—says.
Roman hesitates. “I have a guest with me. I’ll be another hour.”
Pavel snorts. “Screw that. Pull over, put her in a cab, and get here stat. I looked over the files Katerina sent, and we have a problem.”
My head snaps towards Roman, but he’s too busy pulling a crazy ass U-turn to look my way.
“Roman, are you serious? Call a cab? I don’t even know where we are.”
“I’m not putting you in a cab,” he grits. “You’re coming with me. You can wait until I finish my business, and then I’ll bring you home.”
“Or you can bring me home and then go on your merry way. My preferred option, in case you care.”
“No can do.” He hits the accelerator. “We’re close to my office, and this matter we’re dealing with is pressing.”
“Fine.” I cross my arms in front of my chest. “Will you at least tell me what’s going on? Why Katerina?” I ask before I lose the nerve. “What business could she possibly help you with?”
He looks over at me before his eyes ping back to the road. “I like that you’re jealous.” A hint of a smile plays on his lips, making those damn dimples pop. “It shows you care.”
I shrug. After my outburst at the opera house, I can’t exactly deny how I feel.
“It’s about our business with the Petroviches,” he continues. “Probably best if you don’t know, seeing as you’re marrying Anatoly.” He says those final words like a challenge, waiting to see how I’ll respond.
Anxiety coils low in my gut. I’m strangely tempted to tell Roman the truth about, well, everything. How terrible Anatoly is. How indebted I am to his family. How he uses Sofiya to keep me in line. The urge to share my secrets and unburden myself of everything I've held so tightly has never been stronger, but I force the feeling down.
I can’t get sloppy. Not now. Not when Roman is in business with Anatoly. Not when my money is growing every day. I’m close to being free of Anatoly; I just have to see my plan through. Even if I will always wonder “what if” when it comes to Roman.
His gaze shifts to the rearview mirror. He frowns then checks his side mirror, and bites out a curse. Before I can ask what’s going on, the high-pitched squeal of tires cuts through the air.
“Hold on." Roman’s voice is tight, his eyes darting to the mirror again. "We're being trailed.”
Fear nudges at my calm, my heart thumping against my ribs.
Even at high speed, Roman controls the wheel with practiced ease as he reaches under his seat. For a gun.
Oh, shit.
My grip tightens on the door handle. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Wish I knew.”
The sharp crack of gunfire shatters the night, bullets pinging off the car's exterior.
Without a second's hesitation, Roman's arm shoots out, pushing my head between my legs. "Stay down!" he commands in a voice that no one in their right mind would argue with.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I swallow down the fear and terror lodged in my throat. I focus on breathing and not having a damn panic attack on the floor of Roman’s car because that wouldn’t help anything.
He lowers his window. The screech of tires is louder and more ominous. And then he’s returning gunfire. Or at least, I think he is.
I peek up to watch him drive with his right hand and shoot out the window with his left.
“Let me take the wheel.” A surge of adrenaline gives me a momentary boost of courage.