If the Lebedevs were coming after Beatrice, I wasn’t letting her out of my sight.
***
My driver led me straight to Fifth Avenue. I made him park the car a block away and went on foot toward the stores they were wandering in, not wanting to be seen. I wasn’t here to ruin Beatrice’s fun. Hell, she needed a day like this to forget all her troubles.
I simply wanted to make sure that she stayed safe. Keeping an eye on her from a distance felt like an obvious way to do that without setting her on alert.
I walked past stores, staring in through glass windows. It was when I was passing by Hermés that I took a double step back and stopped. There, through the windows, I saw Beatrice laughing as Alena held up a ridiculous hat bigger than Beatrice’s entire face.
Beatrice held out a hand, and Alena passed her the hat. I watched, enchanted by this carefree side of Beatrice as she put it on and gave a playful curtsy to my sisters, her head dropping low, one sensuous leg, all skin, bending behind the other.
I felt the air whoosh out of my lungs, like time itself had decided to stop for me so I could take in this moment. Even when playing the fool, Beatrice was the most beautiful woman I had ever set eyes on.
For her, I wanted endless days like this, I realized. Days full of joy and laughter, being free to exist and explore without looking over her shoulder.
I didn’t go in. I just stood there at the window, looking in at this life of hers and side to her I’d never seen before.
She went into the changing room and had on a gorgeous, fitted pair of white pants, but instead of a top, she’d tied a scarf as a bandeau. Anja got out a twill, insisted on tying Beatrice’s hair back with it, letting some loose strands frame her face.
Beatrice laughed when Alena followed suit by painting her lips red and putting on a necklace larger than my fist. I’d never seen her laugh the way she was laughing that day; Unguarded, with her head thrown back and eyes crinkled. It was like looking at a completely different person from the one I’d gotten to know.
She looked younger than her years, if that was even possible given that she was twenty-five. But right now, shelooked like a timeless beauty, like one of those postcard-worthy images of what youth could be.
People came and went, the chimes over the store’s door ringing in warning. But I never moved from the spot I stayed rooted on, my eyes fixed on Beatrice like she was the center of my gravity.
For an hour, I watched them go from store to store. Beatrice tried on dresses, shoes, and coats. She twirled for my sisters’ approval, posed dramatically, and made silly faces. With each new outfit, each burst of laughter, I felt the fear crawl down my back with firmer claws.
I was terrified of how much it pleased me to see her so happy, spending the day with my sisters, because sooner or later, I might be the one to wipe that smile off her face. I began to think that a day would soon come when she would realize just how much her family and mine hate each other, and when that would happen, I feared Beatrice would retreat into her shell again, only deeper and harder to bring her out of.
Fuck. In that moment, just letting her have this pure, unadulterated joy was the one gift I could give her before shit hit the fan.
So, I stayed out of the way and watched her have the time of her life. I would have stayed till the sun set, till the next morning, till however long she needed, as long as she laughed.
But it seemed the day had other plans, for just then, I saw a face out of the corner of my eye that had me do a double-take.
It was one of those same men who chased us the night I took her out for dinner at my restaurant.
A god damn Volkov man.
He was inside the store, his eyes fixed on Beatrice.
Somehow, by god’s grace, he hadn’t seen me lingering.
My hand went to my gun, hidden beneath my jacket. I scanned the street, checking to see if he had any others with him. There, across the intersection, I noticed a man in a baseball cap, standing suspiciously at attention. And closer to the cafe on the right, I saw a third pretending to read a newspaper.
They had us surrounded.
I crossed the street, keeping my eyes on the Volkovs. The girls were leaving the store now, heading toward a high-end boutique on the corner.
I waited until they disappeared inside, then called my driver to meet me here and followed. The store was crowded with shoppers, which would provide cover. I spotted my sisters and Beatrice heading toward the back, where the dressing rooms were located.
One of the Volkov men entered behind me. I pretended to browse a rack of men’s shirts, but kept a keen eye on him. He was so focused on the girls, the bastard didn’t even notice me.
I needed to get to the girls before he did.
I ducked behind a display, cutting through the center of the store to reach the dressing area first. I heard Beatrice’s laughter sounding in the air.
“That color makes you look like a traffic cone,” she was telling Anja, who had emerged from a dressing room in a neon orange dress.
