A ghost of a smile touches my lips as a sharp, sweet pang pierces my chest.
She’s not asking for protection. She’s declaring her side. She’s walking into the fire with me.
Like the diamonds, heat and pressure shaped her into the person she is.
Forget Roman’s stones.
In my eyes, she’s the true gem.
Chapter 37
Kolya
The gates of Roman Kozlov’s compound swing open like the jaws of a beast. One I spent my entire adult life serving.
For the first time, I’m bringing a girl home to the family.
I grip the steering wheel tighter. Chloe’s presence beside me is a bright spot in my peripheral vision. The tote bag rests between us, the cheerful sunflower pattern a mockery of the violence that led us to this point.
Driving through the gates, I notice the increased security. Four men at the gatehouse instead of the usual two, roving patrols visible through the trees, the subtle bulge of extra weapons beneath jackets.
Tension creeps into my muscles. Roman’s anticipating trouble. Whether he believes that threat will come from Gio, us, or a different entity remains to be seen.
I continue scanning the perimeter. “You okay?”
Chloe nods and traces the edge of the sunflower bag. “Just processing. This place is…not what I expected.”
I follow her gaze across the manicured lawns. The gray stone mansion rises like a fortress at the end of the curved driveway. Crystal gleams from the windows, reflecting the late afternoon sun. The balconies on the second and third floors could use agood scrubbing to show off their white and ensure the railings match the trim of the windows, but it still looks good.
Beauty masking danger. Like Chloe herself, in a way.
Despite my prickling nerves, I smirk. “What did you expect? Barbed wire? Armed guards with automatic weapons?”
“I don’t know. Something less…normal. Ostentatious, but with much less curb appeal.” She grimaces at her sweater and jeans. “I’m underdressed.”
My gaze roams her body rather than the driveway, and I need to correct my steering before we hit a tree. “You’re perfect.”
After everything she’s endured—kidnapping, torture, a warehouse fire, discovering twenty million in diamonds hidden in her home—my little teacher’s worried about her clothes.
The absurdity is so distinctly Chloe that my chest loosens a fraction.
The SUV crunches to a stop on the gravel roundabout. Alexei pulls up behind us, and the others soon spill out of his vehicle. Max’s eyes sweep the grounds, no doubt charting and critiquing the guys on guard duty today. Vanya straightens his jacket, and Kirill checks his weapon before tucking it away.
We move as one unit toward the house, with Chloe protected in the center of our formation.
She stares up at the third-floor windows, then at the stone steps between the white pillars leading up to the front porch. The redwood double doors are fitted with bulletproof glass. We can see out, but bullets can’t get in.
The massive front doors open before we reach them.
Mikhail, Roman’s older brother and Alexei’s father, stands in the threshold, his face revealing nothing beneath his gray-streaked hair. His dark gray eyes narrow on Chloe before traveling to the tote bag I carry. He steps aside without a word, a silent command to enter.
Inside, the marble foyer echoes with our footsteps, ushering us into a world of crystal chandeliers, antique furniture, and priceless art on the walls.
The trappings of old money and older power.
Chloe tenses beside me. “Holy guacamole.”
Vanya snickers on my right. “Hear that, Max? Holy guacamole.”
