I dig my nail into my palm, hating how much sense that makes in my head. I violated her trust. I know exactly how that feels, but that doesn’t mean I have any clue how to repair it. I’ve never even managed to repair my own.
I’m still consideringthe strange realization hours later, sitting in my dark office at Empire. The irritating beat of the music from downstairs seeps through the thick floorboards, vibrating the smooth surface of my desk and magnifying the ache pulsing in my head.
The long-anticipated knock against my door finally sounds, seconds before the barrier is cracked open. The godawful music rushes through the opening, infecting the room until Ivan finally clicks the door shut, silencing the noise to a mere buzz once more.
I hate this office during business hours.
Fists clenching with tension, I watch Ivan make his way to the chair across from me with poorly hidden anxiety, my patience growing thin.
“Well?” I finally snap out when he slides into the chair.
“She is well.”
The little shit stares back at me with a coy smile, purposefully providing the report I’ve anticipated for hours in the vaguest manner possible. I should’ve killed the asshole years ago.
“Did you deliver the groceries? Did she accept them?” I probe further, tone seeping with irritation.
“Yes, it appears she accepted the food.”
Happiness swims in my chest, a sigh of relief pinching my lungs. I half expected her to toss the offering directly into the trash. I wouldn’t have even blamed her, either. A single delivery can’t possibly come close to making up for all the pain I caused her that night.
“…and we had a little chat.”
The relief instantly dissipates.
Ivan’s face is still settled into an annoying-as-fuck sheath of humor, lips tilted up in a soft smirk. The fucker is enjoying this a little too much.
“If you don’t stop this coy shit and spill a second-by-second report out of your smug mouth in the next five seconds, I’ll slice off your weaker fingers knuckle by knuckle with a smile on my face,” I snap out, rage practically funneling from my nostrils.
His grin just stretches wider.
“Alright, lover boy, simmer down the death threats. Women don’t find that sexy, you know?”
“Ivan.”
“I was on watch at my post, and she came out to the car and offered me a cup of coffee. We talked a bit.”
“About what?” My anxiety intensifies. If he scared her off, I’ll find a very creative punishment, friend or not.
“This and that. I got the sense that you didn’t tell her much about the Bratva, so I kept it vague. She was interested, though.”
The shrill voice of Dr. Rosencrantz from earlier this morning floats in my memory. I thought the safest way I could approach earning her trust was by hiding this side of my life from her. After all, who would want to fall for a made man? My life will always revolve around violence and threats, something I came to terms with a long time ago. I chose this on my own, but she wouldn’t be choosing this life. She would be a captive in it.
You violated her trust, Mikhail. You should be intimately familiar with how that feels.
I glance up to my second, who’s now sitting back in quiet contemplation, watching me through that steady gaze of his.
“Was I wrong to hide all of this from her?” I ask quietly.
Ivan considers me for a moment longer.
“I don’t know how I would’ve done it all, were I in your position. But now that she knows a fraction of our reality, she’s in a significant amount of danger, not knowing the full extent of our world. She’s caught the attention of our enemies, yet has little to no understanding of why she needs a guard. Her ignorance of the situation doesn’t seem like an option anymore, brother.”
The honesty of his words pelts me one by one, shards of glass falling through the air. He’s correct. It’s my fault that she is in danger right now. And it’s no longer a viable option to keep her in the dark.
It’s justafter midnight when I slide into my car, settling my stiff muscles back into the leather curves of the seat. I eye the device in my hand like a tampered grenade, the alluring contact glowing across the screen. As much as I crave the soft, raspy sound of her voice, my thumb hovers anxiously over the button, unsure of how she’ll react to what I need to tell her.
I need to find a way to earn her trust.
