“Just how many one-night-stands do you intend to have?”
“None of your business,” I retort, crossing my arms. I don’t really intend to have that many, but I don’t want to feel like having to get higher approval for some release. “The goal of me being here is not only to study, Aleksei. I want a life outside of mafia bullshit. How am I supposed to be a normal girl if I have two assassins trailing after me at all times?”
Even as I say the words, something inside me prevents me from meaning it with my whole chest and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
My ex-husband-turned-chosen-brother sighs but relents. “Fine. Gemma and Milosh will only be there as a preventive measure, one at a time. They won’t interfere with your life. Unless you start seeing someone more regularly. Then, it’s a full check, Lu.”
I thrust my hand for him to shake. “Deal.”
After another side hug, he’s out the door and I’m standing in the middle of my new place. The round table with a Japanese-inspired design and velour chairs look cosy, though somewhat mismatched. It’s something I’d have chosen for myself. Irina knows me well. My heart lurches in my chest at the proof.
But it’s the fluffy green couch that calls out my name. Maybe I should go out and explore my new neighbourhood. Test a few of the cafes alongside the picturesque streets with basements flats. But all I want to do is light one of the candles I brought with me and finish my book with a cup of tea in hand.
I choose that activity as my reward for putting my clothes and belongings away in the closet in the bedroom, and putting a fresh set of sheets on the Queen-sized bed. It only has two pillows, which is fucking sad so I start a list of things I want to get.
New throw pillows for the bed and the couch. More candles. Some plants.
I’ve been in this place for less than two hours and already, it feels more like me than the flat in London or my bedroom in France ever did.
I snap a picture and send it to Diane, with a commentary of the romance I just finished.
The night is slowly setting in when my stomach growls for food. Since I didn’t get any groceries, I decide to try my luck and put on a bright pink faux-fur jacket over the summer dress I’m wearing and opt for my platform derbies with frilly socks.
I hesitate in front of Gemma and Milosh’s door but decides against asking them to accompany me. My heart flutters with excitement as I open the door and step down the three stairs between my building and the street. I’ve never been a rule-breaker. I always knew the dangers of being in this life, but now, it sends a thrill through me.
Cool night air greets me. It smells like freedom. Here, no one knows me. No one can ask who my dad is, who my family is and what I can do for them. I’m just a student, getting cheap fish and chips at the corner shop.
As I stroll down the street and marvel at the architecture and the glow of the lamp posts, a familiar sensation settles on my shoulders. I stop. Turn around. Only a man in a suit looking at his phone passes me by, not even raising his eyes. I continue on and the sensation persists.
Maybe Gemma or Milosh followed me after all. They’re very stealthy, I’ll give them that.
“Hi sweetheart, what can I get ya?” the man behind the counter asks with a thick Scottish accent.
When he hands me the portion of fish and chips, I turn around and bump into a massive frame with a yelp. Strong hands steady me and I’m so glad for them because it would have been a tragedy if my first ever fish and chips had met an untimely end on the dirty floor. My eyes travel up to… Milosh. Looking pissed.
So he did in fact follow me. I wasn’t crazy.
“Hi, Milosh.”
He only grunts in way of response and I blush with embarrassment.
“You alright, lass?” the man who served me asks with concern.
I put on my bravest smile and tell him that everything’s fine. The shake of his head indicates he might not believe me but doesn’t give enough of a shit.
“You should have called Gemma or I, Miss Ventura,” Milosh says in a clipped tone.
“I didn’t want to bother you,” I scoff. “I’m just getting some food. And please, call me Lucie.”
I gulp. His facial expression remains stoic, his eyes assessing the street around us.
So much for escaping my upbringing.
Like I always do, I plaster a grin on my face and pretend I’m fine with someone hovering over me. Sitting on the stairs in front, a massive man next to me looking like he might kill anyone who walks by, I devour my meal. My fingers are greasy and salt sticks to them. It’s a very simple pleasure but something I haven’t felt in… I think ever. I wish I were alone to enjoy it. Or not alone, but with someone other than a bodyguard. Someone who would love this simple pleasure, too, and wouldn’t mind the complete anonymity. I wish I could share it with someone for whom I’d matter most.
When I’m done, I lick my fingers, throw away the container, then stride back to my flat. Milosh walks besides me, scanning the street like a guard dog.
The sensation from earlier remains. I glance over my shoulder, and I know Milosh follows my gaze. He doesn’t slow his pace. If someone as trained as him isn’t on high alert, I’m being paranoid. The street remains empty, the shadows unmoving. I feel like I’m going crazy, waiting for a threat to come out. No one does.
