Page 61 of Frozen Heart

I grabbed his hand and towed him into the middle of the dance floor. “Just one dance, I promise.”

He put his hands on my waist and tugged me close. My breasts pushed against his chest and I felt his cock harden against my thigh. He growled, pinned me firmly in position andwhispered in my ear. “One dance. Because any more than that, feeling you against me like this, and I’m going to be dragging you into the nearest storeroom.”

I felt my face light up red but the words, said inthataccent, spiraled straight down to my groin and made me crush my thighs together. He’d been holding back, all these weeks, until he knew I wanted him. I could feel the need in him: in his hand, gripping my waist, in the way his eyes kept going to my lips, and in the press of that thick, hot cock. It felt like he was one second away from just ripping my wedding gown off in front of everyone and throwing me over one of the tables. I went weak inside and pressed myself closer to him, reveling in the feel of his body as we slowly spun around the dance floor. I was giggly and heady: I glimpsed Jen smiling at us as we whirled past and I felt my own big, stupid grin on my face. I couldn’t remember the last time I was so happy.

There was a scream, down at the end of the room. Radimir and I stumbled to a stop and looked in that direction but for a moment we couldn’t see anything through the crowd of people. Then another scream, the crowd split apart and?—

Spartak Nazarov, his lips twisting in hatred as he saw us. And standing in front of him, three men with machine guns.

I gave a strangled cry of terror as they opened fire.

43

RADIMIR

I’d done exactlywhat I swore I’d never do: I’d let my guard down. Spinning around and around the dance floor, with Bronwyn’s breasts soft against my chest and her white gown billowing out behind her, I washappy.I knew I was grinning and that people from the other mafia families could see it, and I didn’t care at all.

Then Spartak and his gunmen burst in, and it took me a few seconds to come out of that warm, pink fog. The first spray of bullets would have killed us both if a man from one of the East side families hadn’t run in front of us in his bid to escape. He was cut down, and as he fell screaming, I finally woke up, picked up Bronwyn andran.I dived behind the waist-high wall of amplifiers the band was using and pressed Bronwyn to the floor, covering her body with mine. Bullets tore into the amps, sending out showers of sparks and deafening screeches of feedback. The band fled the stage, sending their mic stands tumbling. The guests were all trying to get out but there were too many people and not enough doors.

More bullets slammed into the amps. They hummed and crackled, belching white smoke that stung my nostrils.I don’thave a gun!When I’d been getting dressed that morning, I’d been too focused on trying to figure out what to say to Bronwyn. Plus, who takes a gun to awedding?

Answer: my brothers. I peeked out and saw Valentin and then Gennadiy returning fire.Where are my security guys?I’d had three men stationed outside but there’d been no warning: they must have been slaughtered before they even got a shot off.

The amps started to spit blue arcs of electricity and I flinched as one of them singed my jacket. “We’ve got to move,” I told Bronwyn. When the gunfire stopped for a second, I pulled her to her feet and ran for one of the doors.

Time seemed to slow down. For the first time, I could really see the devastation. People lay bleeding, perhaps dead. Tables around the edge of the room had been overturned as people fled and the exits were still clogged by the crowds. Spartak had disappeared as soon as my brothers fired back but his gunmen were still there, reloading their weapons to fire again.

Suddenly, Bronwyn tore herself out of my grasp and veered off to the side. I grabbed for her but missed.Where the hell is she going?

Then I saw him. In the middle of the room, stumbling through the glittering snow of glass shards.Shit!A kid, no more than six, forced by his parents into a little three-piece wedding suit. He was red-faced and bawling, blind with tears.

Bronwyn was running straight towards him, sprinting. I raced after her, skidding a little in my dress shoes. The floor was polished wood, slick with spilled champagne, and she was in heels: it must have been hell on her joints, just staying upright.Chyort, my little librarian was brave. But the gunmen were going to fire again long before she could get the kid to safety. She scooped him up and looked desperately around for cover but there wasn’t any: we were right out in the open. I picked her up and spun around, clutching her and the kid to my chest andputting my back to the gunmen. Then I closed my eyes tight and waited for the bullets to tear into me.

There were three heavy thumps behind us and then screaming. A machine gun fired but it hit the ceiling, not us. I tentatively uncoiled from around Bronwyn and the kid and looked behind me.

The three gunmen were on the floor, rolling and sobbing. Two had a dog’s jaws locked into their arms and had dropped their guns. The third had been foolish enough to keep hold of his gun. He had a dog on his chest, its jaws on his throat, and he wasn’t moving anymore.

That’s the thing about Mikhail’s dogs. They’re adorable bundles of floof...right up until the moment they see one of the family in danger.

Mikhail, unflappable as ever, collected up the guns and then recalled the dogs. They trotted over obediently, wagging their tails, one of them with its jaws dripping red.

“Baba!” said Bronwyn suddenly. “Where’s Baba?”

“She’s fine,” said Gennadiy, reloading his gun as he walked over. “I got her out of the room as soon as the shooting started.”

Bronwyn put the kid down, ran over and wrapped Gennadiy up in a hug. Gennadiy grimaced and pouted, unused to affection.

We reunited the kid with his parents and checked the guests. One man was dead. Three more people had been hit by bullets but would survive, several more had cuts from flying glass and two had been hurt in the crush at the doors. The three security guys I’d had stationed outside were all dead and that hit me hard: they were all good men who’d always been loyal to me. But I knew it could have been much, much worse.

The police arrived and started asking a million questions, but between Mikhail’s smooth diplomacy and a phone call to the police commissioner, who we had an understanding with, wemanaged to smooth things out.No, officer, we have no idea who these men were, or why they shot the place up.

But in reality, I knew exactly what had happened. Spartak had somehow found out I killed his brother.How?

The guests started to leave. Bronwyn was just hugging her friends goodbye when Gennadiy took me aside, saying there was something he needed to show me. He rounded up Valentin and Mikhail, too, and we slipped away from the police and out into the house’s gardens. It was very still and very quiet, and so cold that the snow that covered the tops of the hedges had frozen into a thick, sparkling crust.

“Spartak just sent me this,” Gennadiy told me, pulling out his phone.

At that second, Bronwyn ran out of the house and over to our group, still in her wedding gown. “What is it?” she asked, seeing our faces. “What’s happened?”