The worst part—the part that makes me want to scream at myself until I’m hoarse—is that I want him. Badly. Even now, even knowing full well what he is, who he is, what he’s capable of.
You shouldn’t look at me like that.He’d said it like a warning.
How exactly am I looking at you?
Like you’re finally admitting just what I do to you.
I curse under my breath. The GPS announces another twenty minutes until the next exit. I swallow hard, pulling my attention back to the road. I need to focus. I need to shake him off. I need to see my daughter. That’s the only thing that matters.
Andrea. Think of Andi.
But the universe—or my own stupidity—has other plans. I almost blew right through a stop sign, mind torn between memories of the bank vault and just the other day. The way the orgasm felt like a storm rolling through me after years of drought.
A massive petrol tanker blares its horn, the sound tearing through my skull, and I jerk the wheel so hard my tires screech. “Jesus Christ!”
My heart slams against my ribs. I pull over, hands shaking uncontrollably on the wheel.
Focus, Roxy.Makari is not worth dying over. Not worth crashing over. He’s not worth losing everything you’ve built. I’ve spent the last six, almost seven years without him and been fine. But… something inside me echoes at that statement.
I inhale. Exhale.
When I pull back onto the road, I keep both hands locked at ten and two like a panicked driving-school student. I concentrate on the lines of the asphalt, the hum of the engine, the familiar skyline as Cambridge eventually rises in the distance like a sigh of relief. I don’t let my thoughts drift back to the cabin. Or his mouth. Or what we did on that table.
But the moment I turn onto Kat’s street, everything shifts.Thisis why I came. This is what matters. And it also complicates things—because Andi is Makari’s daughter.
Inside, I hear voices—my mother’s low hum and Andi’s excited chatter. Just like that, every nerve in my body softens. I opened the door.
“Mommy!” A small blur rockets toward me.
“Andi—oh baby—” I catch her mid-run and pull her into my arms, burying my face in her hair. She smells like crayons and cocoa butter and everything good in the world. My throat tightens painfully.
“Mommy, you’re early! Nana said next week! Why are you here?” Her little hands grip my cheeks, a bit sticky, but it grounds me. “Did you miss me too much? ’Cause I missed you soooo much.”
I laugh weakly. “Yeah, sweetheart. I missed youthatmuch. And I have some good news. Where’s Grandma? Where’s Auntie Kat?”
My mom appears at the end of the hallway, her brows knitting in confusion. “Roxanne? Honey, what—did something happen? You said you weren’t coming until?—”
“Hey, Mom. I need to talk to Katherine.” My voice comes out sharper than intended.
My mother’s eyes widen—because I never cut her off. Ever. She glances toward the kitchen, worried. “She’s home, but?—”
A few seconds later, Katherine steps out of the kitchen with her arms already crossed, as if she’d been preparing for a battle she didn’t expect to happen this soon.
“Wow,” she says, flicking her eyes over my rumpled clothes, my messy hair, my clenched jaw. “You look like hell. Bad day in Bar Harbor?”
I set Andi gently down and straighten. “Katherine. What the hell did you do?”
My mom quickly grabs Andi, whispering to her and carrying her upstairs. Andi watches over Mom’s shoulder with a serious, worried expression.
Katherine’s eyebrows lift a fraction. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” I step closer. “I asked you what the hell you were thinking, getting me a job with the Bratva.”
Her expression shutters, but not fast enough. “So he told you?” she asks, voice flat.
“He?You mean Makari Medvedev?The Bear?” My voice cracks. “You got me hired by a literal crime syndicate without telling me?”
She tilts her head. “Roxy, don’t be dramatic. You asked if it was the mafia, and it’snot.”
