I knew that if this place was going to make real money, I couldn’t keep it as the skeezy strip club it used to be. So I took a page out of the burlesque club Katya worked at back in Russia and used every detail I could remember about it. Before Vasily bought that place, Katya loved her job. She was excited to go to work. Proud of it.
Maybe, in a way, I redesigned my club to feel closer to her.
Or maybe I just wanted something that reminded me of better days, back when she was alive.
But I don’t need that reminder anymore. Not when we have Kira. She’s the only memory of my sweet sister I’ll ever need.
Still, I’d rather Kira not spend too much time here. After all, myBratvasoldatystill conduct business within these walls. Her boyfriend being wary of her coming here is warranted.
“What about Stella?” Kostya asks, his dark eyes sparkling mischievously. “I’m sure she wouldn’t make a fuss about picking you up.”
“That’s perfect!” Kira beams as Kostya hands her back her phone. She taps her fingers on the keypad of her phone a few times and grins. “Stella says she’ll be here in ten.”
“You hear that, brother? She’ll be here in ten.” Kostya winks.
I try to keep my expression cool, composed… but I doubt I’m fooling either of them.
Stella has been avoiding me since she stormed out of Russia with fire in her veins and her jaw clenched like she’d rather bite through steel than look at me again.
I told myself she’d cool off. That she’d come to her senses and seek me out eventually.
Then weeks passed.
Then more.
Until two long months went by without even a text or a phone call.
And while I haven’t spoken to her… haven’t touched her softness or heard her laugh… that doesn’t mean I haven’t seen her.
After learning her schedule, I drive to her school every morning and watch her walk across campus, books in hand, from the parking lot. I don’t dare turn the ignition off, becauseif I do, there will be nothing stopping me from getting out of the car and running after her.
No.
Watching Stella from afar is the closest I allow myself to be near her.
But now she’s just a car ride away.
She’s coming to me…
And that changes the rules of the game.
Kostya is still smirking at me as I help Kira gather up her things and lead her out of the office. We make our way down the hallway, past the low thrum of music and chatter of the main room, until we finally push through the front doors. The snow is coming down in thick, heavy sheets, the kind that muffles the whole damn world. Even the dark-blue neon glow of my new sign, the one that readsObsidian, looks softer under it, almost harmless.
Almost.
The rest of Chicago might believe this is the new nightspot to hang out in, but everyone in Little Russia knows this is aBratvaowned business and should be respected as such. Feared even.
Kostya stands beside me under the awning, hands shoved into his coat pockets, bouncing lightly on his heels. He’s trying to look casual, but I know him too well. He’s as restless as I am.
“Relax,” I mutter.
“I am relaxed,” he lies, eyes flicking toward the street for the tenth time in a minute.
I huff out a breath.
He’s excited.
I’m excited.
