Lunch with Emilia couldn’t have come at a better time. I need normal. I have to remember who I am and why staying away from Aleksei is goal number one. Indefinitely.
Heading out of the house, I glance around for signs of him, but there are none. No black SUV idling by the curb. No shadow hovering near the edge of the trees. Still, my shoulders stay tight, my instincts humming with that low, persistent warning I haven’t been able to shake.
On my way to the car, I detour toward the mailbox, purse slung over one shoulder, keys already dangling from my fingers.
I’m not expecting anything. Just the usual junk mail, maybe another credit card application I’ll shred without reading. It’s too soon for another letter. They never come this close together.
But then I see it. Tucked between bills and advertisements. Unmarked. White. Same as all the others.
My heart pumps louder.
I tell myself to wait. To open it after lunch so it doesn’t ruin my mood.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I slam the door and rip the envelope open like it’s burning through my fingers.
How much would you pay to know what your family did?
The words hit like a blow to the chest, sending shock waves through me.
This has to be a joke. Someone is trying to mess with me, make me doubt everything I know. But I won’t let them. I shove the letter into the glove compartment and slam it shut, like that’s enough to seal it away.
They won’t win. Not this time. This ends now.
I’m done with the letters. Done with Aleksei. Done with all of it.
By the time I pull into the lot, Emilia’s already walking into the café, flanked on both sides by Konstantin’s cousins, Maksim and Dimitri, who look like the musclebound mafia version of Secret Service. They follow her wherever she goes. It’s their job now. Konstantin takes her protection very seriously, and I’m relieved about that.
When I head inside, Emilia spots me immediately and waves me over.
“Hey!” she says, standing to wrap me in a warm hug.
I smile and rest a hand on her belly. “How’s our future lawyer doing?”
“He’s kicking like he’s got something to prove,” she laughs, glowing. “I swear, he thinks my bladder’s a trampoline.”
“His dad must be proud already.”
“You have no idea,” she mutters with a smirk.
Maksim flashes a grin. “Miss Fiona. Lovely to see you.”
“Hi… Thanks.” I offer a polite smile, caught slightly off guard. I know who they are, but we’ve never exactly chatted over croissants.
“Aleksei still bothering you?”
I roll my eyes. “Unfortunately.”
Maksim shrugs like it’s out of his hands. “You could give him a chance. He might grow on you.”
“Like mold?”
“Exactly,” Dimitri deadpans. “Persistent. Impossible to kill. You’d never be lonely.”
“No, thanks, boys.” I raise a brow. “I like things just the way they are.”
Without the oversized Russian who knows how to use his hands…
I clear my throat before that thought finishes.
