Roman chuckled and shared a sly grin with Sergei. “Note how quickly our brother seizes the opportunity to move his woman into his home?”

“Clever,” Sergei said. “Though, I suspect he’ll have a hard time moving her out of the carriage house with Evette playing interference. She likes having another woman close by.”

Whether it was the razzing from his brothers, or the highs and lows of the day that made him snap, he couldn’t say, but he spoke without censure. “She belongs with me.”

Silence stretched in the wake of his clipped words, Roman and Sergei trading shocked and uncertain looks between each other.

Kir shifted in his chair and lowered his gaze. Of all the people who deserved his short-temper, Sergei wasn’t among them. Not when he’d been one of the few people to stand by his side through the years. “My apologies. I meant no disrespect.”

“No disrespect was taken,” Sergei said. “Quite the contrary, I’m encouraged by the level of your commitment.” He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his desk and clasping his hands together. “I assume with the measures you’ve taken today, Cassie now knows the reasons behind your search?”

The question felt like a test. A trap like so many others that had been thrown before him growing up to see if he’d put his bratva in front of everyone else, or make the same poor choices as his father.

But Sergei wasn’t like other vors. He was a true brother-in-arms. As fair as he was lethal. “Until this morning, she was unaware. But once the email came in and I demanded she move, I felt she deserved to know. Without it, she would not fully understand the risk.”

Sergei didn’t miss a beat. “Good.” He looked to Roman, then back to Kir. “Then unless there’s anything else, I think it’s time to execute.”

“Agreed.” Kir stood, more than ready to engage in tangible actions after a morning of holding himself in check. He paused beside his chair only long enough to meet each brother’s stare and added, “The sooner we find who’s behind the email, the sooner we make them pay for what they’ve done.”

Chapter Thirteen

One definite upside to having bodyguards that drove you everywhere—someone else had to deal with rush hour traffic on I-10. Add to that, Sergei—or Kir, or whoever it was in charge of security—didn’t scrimp on cars, because the Mercedes they’d been carting her around in the last four days kept her comfortably isolated from the chaos outside.

Another thing she’d learned? Sam, Patrick and Abel were not only great at being stealthy, but had a decent sense of humor when Kir wasn’t around. Only once had one of her camera guys asked about Abel watching them, and that had only been because a drunk at a festival had made the hugely unwise decision to try and pick her up.

She stared out the passenger window, noting all the unknown people from all walks of life going about their normal days not giving her the slightest attention. She should be happy. Or at least relieved that nothing else had happened. God knew, every single person in Kir’s family had gone out of their way to make her feel comfortable. At home and relaxed. And, for the most part, she was. Especially, when it was just her, Kir and Frieda at the carriage house at night.