A large body covers me whole from behind, and for a moment, I’m too disoriented to decipher what just happened.
I’m not hearing or smelling anything. My vision is blurry, and it’s almost like waking up in a white room without a recollection of prior events.
“Stay low,” the very familiar voice whispers in my ear, and with that, all my other senses kick into gear.
It’s like being wrenched from underwater and taking the first gulp of air. As my lungs burn, I realize I haven’t been breathing either. My ears buzz and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
The coffee shop’s entryway, the concrete beneath us, the shot on the door…
“Rai, do you hear me? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say over the constant ringing in my ears.
I attempt to roll from underneath him, but Kyle keeps me pinned in place with a hand around my nape. “Don’t move.”
His grip is firm, disallowing me any shift, which wouldn’t be possible considering he’s crushing me with his weight. Every inch of me is covered by him.
The realization of what he did slowly creeps up on me.
Kyle jumped on me. As in, he used his body as a shield for mine. As in, he was ready to take the shot for me.
My breathing hitches, cracking and turning shallower by the second. It doesn’t make sense for him to do such a heroic act I would expect from only Katia and Ruslan.
He doesn’t care. He left seven years ago.
I try engraving those words to memory, because if I don’t? Then, I’m fucking screwed.
“Is the sniper gone?” I ask, voice low.
“Could be. I’ll go check.”
“Why would you go check? I’ll send the guards.”
“And cause a ruckus at your carefully planned brunch? None of the guards saw the bullet or the red dot. If you make sure Lia doesn’t talk, we won’t have a diplomatic issue with the Italians. If they know a sniper is on the loose, they will accuse you of bringing their women to be killed.”
His words get past the confines of my ears and the reality slams into me.
My best option is to play it cool.
My gaze slides to Lia, who’s crouching by the restaurant door, both her palms covering her ears and her eyes shut tightly as her lips move in inaudible murmurs.
Does she…have PTSD? It doesn’t make sense for Adrian’s wife to have PTSD. She’s been married to him for more than five years, and she knows the way of the brotherhood. We’re not a nice bunch, by any means, and our lifestyle is high on the danger parameter.
Even the most sophisticated Vory women, like Mikhail’s wife and Anastasia, might tremble in fear, but they don’t start bawling or suffer from PTSD episodes. We were brought up on the sound of bullets.
Lia should be the same. She was there during Adrian’s assassination attempt at Mikhail’s birthday. She even helped Stella, Igor’s wife, gather the women in the basement, while I followed Adrian and Damien to catch the attempted assassin.
We found him shot in the back of his neck. Vlad and Adrian ran a thousand background checks using the guy’s picture but came up empty. To this day, we don’t know who tried to kill Adrian or who murdered the assassin.
Point is, Lia was completely calm during that time. It doesn’t make sense for her to have PTSD now.
“I’ll count to three and you join her, okay?” Kyle says so close to my ear, drawing shivers down my spine.
“Take backup,” I say.
“Worried about me, Princess?”
“You wish.” My murmur isn’t believable even to my own ears.
“No backup. You know I work better solo. Now, one, two…” He lifts his body over mine push-up style. “Three.”
He completely stands up and I do, too, bolting to where Lia is crouching. I turn around to insist that he takes guards, but there’s no sign of him.
That hotheaded man will be the death of me.
I mimic Lia’s position and gently touch her hand. It’s sweaty and cold. “Hey…Lia…do you hear me?”
At first, she doesn’t give any sign that she does, but then, slowly, her eyes flutter open and she stares up at me with tears in them.
“Hey, it’s okay.” I take her by the arm and slowly stand her up with me. “You’re okay.”
“I-I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to…”
“You don’t have to be sorry for something you can’t control, Lia.”
“P-please don’t tell Adrian about this.” She grabs my hand in both of hers. “Please.”
“I won’t for now, but he’ll eventually know. We were under attack, Lia.” Or maybe she was the target. After all, the red dot was on her forehead, not mine or anyone else’s.
I reach into my bag and give her a tissue. “Come on, wipe your face and let’s get inside, okay?”
She complies, but her expression remains half-horrified, half-shocked.
I dust my dress off, use a tissue myself, and then hold my head high and walk into the coffee shop. It doesn’t matter that my legs are still slightly shaking or that my mind is still outside where Kyle ran off to God knows where.
This brunch is my way to play a role in the brotherhood, and nothing will ruin this. I shoot a message to Katia and Ruslan to go after Kyle and hope that will be enough.
Inside, the women are completely oblivious to the spy-level show that just took place outside. Thank God.
The décor is cozy with multiple soft lights hanging down from the ceiling. I had my guards rearrange the seats so it’s a large sitting area instead of having separated, impersonal tables.
Everyone sits on the sofas, each cradling a drink. From our side, the women present are Anastasia, Lia, and Igor’s wife, Stella. Of course, Mikhail’s wife didn’t join because her husband is a bastard. As soon as he heard I arranged this meeting, he said she wasn’t feeling ‘well’, and then Damien snickered and whispered to me that he would send his wife over if he had one.
From the Italians’ side, there’s Sofia, Lazlo’s wife, Emilia, whom I had the displeasure of meeting outside, the underboss’s fiancée, and a few new faces I’m sure are Emilia’s friends or the leaders’ daughters.
The gathering goes well—for the most part. Lia spends the entire evening pale and shivering while Emilia keeps acting passive-aggressively toward me, taking any chance to make a jab, like asking Stella if I’m a good daughter-in-law.
Stella, graceful as usual, rubs my arm. “She holds an important role for all of us. Being a daughter-in-law is the least of her problems.”
Emilia huffs, obviously not expecting that answer.
“Thank you,” I whisper to Stella.
She smiles. “We stand up for each other.”
And with that, she excuses herself to go check on the kitchen. I don’t know whether that means approval or what, but Stella and Igor have always been a mystery. They keep their thoughts to themselves, so I’m never sure if it’s all a façade or genuine.
Unlike Emilia, Sofia seems to like me since she keeps talking to me the most among all of the women present.
Anastasia is her adorable, lovable self and is the perfect co-host. No one could hate that innocent, eager-to-please soul. She’s too good for this world.
Whenever I get the chance, I check the messages in my group chat with my guards.
Katia: No traces of Kyle.
Ruslan: Same here.
Katia: Even his guard doesn’t know where he went.
Ruslan: That bleached-haired kid is good for nothing.
I curse under my breath, then smile as Sofia tells me about her grown sons and married life.
Married men and women are generally more respected in the mafia. Being able to form a family isn’t a duty everyone is capable of.
I quickly type a message to Kyle.
Rai: Where are you? Text me when you can.
Not expecting an immediate reply, I tuck my phone away and listen to Sofia. She’s older, in her fifties, but still appears serene as she speaks. Being part of the mafia at a young age makes girls turn into women like Sofia, women who know their duties and don’t deviate from them.
“Now that you’re married, you can start your own family, Rai,” she tells me ever so casually.
“We’re still not at that stage yet.” And we never will be. There’s no way in hell I would start a family with someone as unpredictable as Kyle, someone whose past I know nothing about and whose future I can never predict.
“Why not?” Emilia slides beside her sister-in-law, slurping from her smoothie. “Trouble in paradise?”
You wish, bitch. Instead of saying just that, I choose the diplomatic road. “We just want to spend more time together before kids come along.”
I hate how the lie doesn’t feel like a lie when I say it.
“Oh,” Emilia pouts. “And here I thought you’d toss him out.”
I glare at her. “Not happening.”
“I understand. He’s such a charmer with that accent of his.”
“Emilia,” Sofia reprimands softly.
Emilia finally lets it go and moves away to the other Italian women who showed up.
Sofia apologizes on her behalf, and I pretend it’s fine, even though I’m internally plotting the best way to spike Emilia’s smoothie with poison.
After making vague plans to have another gathering like this, everyone leaves, escorted by their guards.
I make sure Lia is in her car before I take Anastasia and walk to where Ruslan and Katia are waiting for us in front of my vehicle.
“Any sign of Kyle?” I ask, checking my phone again. No reply.
Ruslan shakes his head once, his brows drawn together.
“How about his guard—what’s his name again?”
“Peter,” Katia says.
“Yes, Peter. Where is he?”
She lifts a shoulder. “He said he’d keep searching, but I don’t think that kid can come up with anything useful.”
At this rate, it seems Kyle has disappeared into thin air.
“Why? What happened to Kyle?” Ana’s bemused gaze slides to each of us.
“Get inside, Ana.” I guide her with a hand on her upper back. My limbs resume shaking from when he left me earlier.
By the time we reach home, I’m nearing the combustion point. I force myself to go into Sergei’s office—the one that used to be Dedushka’s.
Usually, I avoid this place because memories of my grandfather hit me full force. The smooth wooden desk and the neat library filled with Russian books have Nikolai Sokolov’s touch to a T. He loved educating me here, sitting me on his lap to read me a book or just going about his business as I read in the corner.
Now, however, I feel numb, almost like the world is losing colors and I can do nothing to stop it. I find Sergei with Vlad going through paperwork.
I remain standing as I brief them about the attack. I’m surprised my voice is calm as I relay the facts.
Sergei stands and approaches me slowly before he takes my hand in his wrinkled one. “Kyle will be fine. He knows his way around.”
“Why do you make it sound as if I’m worried about him? I’m not.”
Vlad gives me a strange look, but he says nothing. I leave them and head to my room. To prove that I’m not worried, I stop checking my phone, take a shower, and go to bed.
Or try to, anyway.
In ten minutes, I’m up on my feet, checking and rechecking my texts. There’s no reply. I read my emails and find the clinic’s test, which says he’s clean. The date at the top indicates he took it late last night and in an emergency room. I wonder how the hell he made that an emergency and how he got the results so quickly. Though, if there’s someone who could make it happen, it’s Kyle. I bet he flirted with a nurse and threatened a doctor. The jerk.
I stand by the balcony and call him. The standard unavailable message greets me.
Just like seven years ago.
The same message. The same circumstances.
Tears gather in my eyes. Mom used to tell Reina and me that tears are a weakness and shouldn’t be in our beautiful eyes, and yet, I couldn’t stop them even if I wanted to.
I’m about to call again when his scent envelops me, and then, his sensual voice follows. “Did you miss me this time, Princess?”
