This is all I want. This. With her. Forever.
The thought hits without warning, piercing me like a bullet to the heart. Despite the shock, I realize it’s true. I want this shared destruction, this creation, this woman with safety goggles and wild hair who rambles on about sea glass and oyster shells like they’re precious gems. I even want the stupid cat in the window and the too-loud music and the warmth blooming in my chest that might be hope.
I interrupt her explanation of grout techniques to say, “I got you into an art show.”
She freezes. “You did what?” Her hands tug at her earlobes. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t possibly have heard you correctly. I thought you said…but I must be mistaken. No one can just…”
“An art show. Juried. Downtown gallery. Someone dropped out. I suggested that you could take their place.” I wave to the creations already sprouting from the plywood canvas. What I fail to mention is that I paid the artist ten grand to drop out. A minor detail. “Maybe other people can’t. Kozlovs can. And I did. So you’re in.”
The mallet clatters to the floor. “Oh my god. I can’t believe it.” Her hands fly to her face, pushing the goggles up into her hair. “Are you serious? How? What? When?”
“Next week. Opening night is Friday.” I inspect her works in progress, trying to ignore her excited wiggling. “Do you think you can have a few pieces ready by then?”
She whips around to scan her workspace, clearly pondering and planning. When she swivels back to me, she pushes close, rises on her toes, and presses her lips to mine.
I wrap my arms around her and deepen the kiss. She parts her lips so my tongue can slip inside to tangle with hers. I tugher closer and revel in her body heat as it seeps through my clothing.
For several seconds—or maybe minutes—all rational thought flees, and I lose myself in her. I devour her mouth while her sweet, fruity scent invades my senses. My control begins to fray. This beautiful, maddening woman could do anything right now, and I think I might let her.
Her lips curve into a smile as she cards her fingers through my hair and plants a lingering kiss on the corner of my mouth. “Thank you.”
Kissing Aurora? Pretty fucking certain I just soared past the pearly gates and landed on the streets of gold.
She spins free, her ponytail whacking my chest as she returns to her workstation. “I need to finish the ocean piece.” She’s already picking up tools. “And the broken mirror one. And maybe the butterfly if I can get the wing right…”
She’s talking more to herself than to me, completely absorbed in the possibilities opening before her.
I watch her for a few more minutes. With a stupid grin plastered on my face, I stride toward the elevator and leave her to her creations. I have calls to make and work to do. But right now, the heavy weight that usually crushes my chest feels lighter, and the path seems a little less dark.
Maybe there’s room in my life for more than just breaking things.
Chapter 34
Alexei
After taking Aurora out for lunch when her sister is unable to meet for coffee, I leave her to her creating. Her joy radiates through the studio like a physical force. Back in the loft, I drop into my chair, unable to shake the lingering burn of her kiss on my lips.
I don’t want to shake it.
For the first time since MJ died, I’m experiencing a sense of rightness to my life. Of possibility. Then my phone rings, and reality crashes back when Roman’s name flashes on the screen.
“Alexei.” My uncle’s voice, smooth as aged vodka and just as dangerous, fills my ear. “I’ve picked your wedding date.” The declaration lands like a stone dropped into still water. “A week from tomorrow.”
I drag air into my flattened lungs. “A week isn’t much time.”
“For what? You’re already engaged. Unless…” A hint of amusement laces his voice. This man watched me learn how to lie. He knows my every tell, even over the phone. “Unless that was a convenient fiction.”
“We never found her dress.” I work to hide the myriad of emotions through me. “With the way things at the boutiqueended, I’ve been wary of bringing it up. We haven’t even discussed anything else. Flowers. Location. Nothing.”
“There’s nothing to discuss. I’ve taken care of everything. It will be a small ceremony. Private. Just family. I’ve secured the chapel already. At that old Russian Orthodox church your father used to go to. Reception at my place, of course. Food, drink, and security all on me.” He pauses so the generosity of his offer can sink in. “Consider it my gift to you both.”
Aurora won’t like being forced into this marriage much sooner than either of us anticipated. But I can’t say that to Roman. Not if I value our lives.
I rub the sudden ache in my chest. “Thank you.”
His sharp laugh reminds me of ice cracking. “No need to thank me. It’s what family does. And it’s high time you make Aurora a part of the family. Safe. Protected.” His volume lowers. “Chicago can be dangerous for a young single woman.”
The subtle threat garrotes my throat. “Indeed.”
