"Mrs. Orlov?" Marco's eyes find mine in the rearview. "Everything alright?"
"Fine." I close the lighter, slip it back into my pocket. "Just thinking about fire."
He doesn't ask what I mean.
Smart man.
Brooklyn rises ahead of us, all brownstones and bare trees, and somewhere in that maze of streets is a house that's starting to feel like home. A man who's teaching me to protect myself. A little girl who's starting to call me Mom.
A family I didn't know I wanted until I had it.
Elena's warning plays again:When he hurts you—and he will.
But she's got it backwards.
It's not Sergei she should be worried about.
It's me.
17
Izzy
"The hearing's been postponed."
Sergei's voice cuts through the phone, rough with frustration. I'm standing in our kitchen, coffee halfway to my lips, and the words take a second to register.
"What? How? Judge Galeotti was supposed to?—"
"Elena's lawyers filed for a continuance. Some bullshit about needing more time to prepare evidence." I hear him moving, the sound of a car door closing. "They'll notify us when they reschedule."
My grip tightens on the mug. "That's her stalling. Buying time."
"I know." His exhale crackles through the speaker. "But there's nothing we can do about it right now. I have to handle this job in Philadelphia. Client needs protection detail for a high-risk meeting. I'll be back tomorrow night."
"Sergei—"
"I know the timing's shit. But I have to do this."
"Be safe," I tell him.
"Always am,kotyonok. Mila's coming over after school. You good with that?"
"Of course." I glance at the clock. Three hours until she arrives. "We'll make cookies or something."
"She'll love that." A pause. "Thank you. For this. For her."
"She's easy to love." The words slip out before I can stop them, too honest, too revealing.
Sergei's quiet for a beat. "So are you."
The line goes dead before I can respond.
He didn't say he loves me. Just that I'm easy to love. There's a difference, and I'm not sure which side of that line we're standing on.
At 3:30,there’s a knock on the door. I open it to find Mila on the front step, backpack slung over one shoulder, her face paler than normal.
"Hey, sweetheart." I step aside to let her in. Elena drives off before I can even wave—not that she'd acknowledge me anyway. "How was school?"
