I grin, feeling a slight warmth spread through me despite the nerves buzzing in my stomach for the day ahead. “Okay, Dad. See you in a bit.”
“Alright, sweetheart,” he says.
When I hang up, I just sit there for a second, struck by how strange it is to have such an ordinary conversation with my father.
The Don.
The man who runs a crime organization with few rivals, whose name alone commands respect and fear. And here I am, on the cusp of stepping into that world, sitting at his side as his successor-in-training.
He insisted I see a stylist before these meetings. She was gorgeous, and she couldn’t stop gushing about how “wonderful” my dad was. It creeped me out. Odds are, they’d slept together.
Ugh. Just thinking about it made my stomach twist.
And the outfits she picked? Nothing I’d ever choose for myself. Every one of them screamedmob diplomacyinstead of me.
I pull out one of the outfits she picked for me, a pantsuit in bright red. The wide-leg pants and oversized jacket are bold, impossible to ignore.
Underneath, I wear a slim red tube top, showing just a sliver of skin at my stomach. A gold necklace rests at my collarbone, and a thin, gold belt cinches my waist. I finish the look with a pair of impossibly high-heeled, gold shoes.
The effect is both sexy and intimidating.
When I catch my reflection, I almost don’t recognize the woman staring back.
I look powerful.
Dangerous.
Every inch the Don’s daughter.
And knowing I’ll be facing Nik across the table today…
I like that more than I should.
24
NIK
The momentI step into the Commission hall, I spot Misha immediately. She’s scanning the crowd, eyes bright, her lips curve into a smile that makes her whole face glow.
And then, I see Volya, my anchor, my safe harbor.
Even from across the room, her warmth pulls the tension from my shoulders, makes the chaos feel distant for a second.
“Misha!” Volya calls, her voice smooth and honeyed, and even in Russian, it makes my chest tighten.“Moya malen’kaya volchitsa!”.
Her little wolf, alright.
Misha grins from ear to ear. “Moma!” she calls back and bolts forward without hesitation.
They collide in a hug so tight it’s almost ridiculous. Misha has grown now, yet still folding into the arms of this gentle, steady woman who’s been more of a mother to her than anyone else ever could.
Volya cups her cheek, tucking back a stray lock of hair with aching tenderness. “Ty ochen’ krasivaya,” she murmurs. “You’re very beautiful.”
Misha laughs, breathless, shaking her head. “And you’re the same as always, warm and terrifying at the same time.”
I can’t help but smile to myself. They fit together so seamlessly, like two pieces of a puzzle finally clicking into place. For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel… peace.
Volya’s gaze shifts, landing on me. Her smile softens, a motherly and steady one.
