This man—this fierce, complicated man—is learning what love feels like, one small moment at a time.
And tonight, he’s not just protecting my daughter.
She’s protecting him and teaching him about love too.
The sun rises over a new day in Vegas, and after many reminders from Sofia, we’re finally visiting the pet shelter in L.A., which is home to the two animals Viktor has sponsored.
As we drive, Sofia sings to Leon in the backseat, inventing a song about ‘Kitty Red’ and ‘Puppy Gerald’ while Leon shrieks with delight, his chubby feet kicking in the air. Viktor doesn’t even flinch. His hands rest casually on the wheel, massive and steady, like nothing fazes him—not L.A. traffic, not Sofia’s out-of-tune singing, and not Leon throwing a teething ring at the back of his head.
When we finally pull up outside the shelter, Sofia squeals so loud that Leon startles before bursting into giggles. “We’re here, we’re here!” she announces as if none of us noticed the giant sign readingWelcome to Paw Prints Sanctuary.
Viktor parks, kills the engine, and climbs out of the SUV without a word.
I open my door and grab Leon, but I pause as Viktor pops the trunk. “Did you bring something for Red and Gerald?” I ask, picturing a couple of chew toys or maybe a bag of treats.
He lifts the trunk lid.
And my jaw drops.
It’s…overflowing. Towering stacks of food bags, boxes of toys, leashes, scratching posts, treats and blankets. There’s even a cat tower wedged in there, like some furry skyscraper. “Viktor,” I breathe, half laughing, half stunned. “What’s all this?”
Sofia gasps beside me. “You’re like Santa for animals!”
Viktor shifts awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. The big, scary mafia man suddenly looks like a little boy caught red-handed stealing cookies. “I, uh, brought some things.”
“Somethings?” I gesture wildly at the mountain of supplies. “Viktor, you could open a wholestorewith all this.”
He shrugs, eyes dropping to the sidewalk. “It’s not just for Red and Gerald. It’s for all of them… I remember what it was like, living on the streets. Cold. Hungry. Nobody looking out for you. I couldn’t…I didn’t want any of the animals to feel like that.”
My throat tightens as his words punch me straight in the heart. “Oh, Viktor,” I whisper.
Sofia tugs on his sleeve, beaming up at him. “You’re like a superhero for animals,” she says with awe in her voice.
He clears his throat, the tips of his ears turning red. “Don’t tell anyone. Bad for my reputation.”
I giggle. “Right, we’ll keep it secret. You’re not a big softie. And you’re definitely not a Bratva teddy bear with a heart of gold.”
“Exactly,” he agrees with a glower that’s half-hearted at best.
Leon babbles happily, smacking his hands together like he’s applauding.
I stare at Viktor and smile at him. This is a man who terrifies grown men with a single look, but he’s now standing here, blushing because he’s been caught spoiling a group of homeless animals today. My chest aches, full and warm. And I’ve never loved this man more.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
VIKTOR
Avelina and the kids are all settled in since moving back to the Kremlin a month ago, and everything is perfect.
I’m checking through invoices when the office door slams open hard enough to make the glass rattle. And Nikolai storms in like a Russian thundercloud dressed in combat gear. “What in God’s frozen hell isthis?” he snarls.
I don’t even look up from my laptop. “Whiskers Wonderland.”
He blinks at me. “Whiskers…what the fuck?!?”
Before I can answer, Queenie launches herself from a tiny velvet ramp and lands squarely on his shoulder like she’s conquering Mount Everest. Nikolai screams in fright, his words cut off mid-rant as a cat tail swishes across his face.
I spare him a glance. “It’s forher enrichment. Stimulation reduces aggression. You know, you should try it sometime.”
