A sob catches in my chest, and my tears spill. “Of course you knew,” I whisper.
“You’re my best friend,” Hallie says fiercely. “I didn’t want to push you into talking. I didn’t want to fix you. I just wanted to be there. However, you needed.”
I pull back, wiping my cheeks, embarrassed and grateful all at once. “You were,” I breathe. “More than you know.”
Her expression turns careful again. “Does Drago know?” she asks.
“H-he does,” I say, voice trembling. “He has for a long time.” I swallow hard. “He actually saved me that night. I just… I had no idea it was him.”
Hallie’s mouth drops open. “What the fuck?” she gasps. “That’s insane. Like… destiny.”
I laugh through my tears because it’s the only way I can breathe. “He’s my soulmate,” I whisper.
Hallie squeezes my hands so tightly it almost hurts.
“I’m happy you’re happy,” she says, eyes shining. “And I’m going to hate the fact you’re leaving. But I’ll visit. We’ll call all the time. You’ll be my best friend no matter where you are. And let’s face it, I’ll just use Bella’s private jet. Or get Conan to buy me one.”
Something in my chest cracks open.
I pull her in again, clinging like I’ve needed this for years. “I love you, Hallie,” I whisper.
“I love you more, Lils,” she whispers back, voice thick. “And I think a fresh start will be perfect for you. Even if it kills me that you’re leaving.”
Leaving Hallie is the worst part. But I know she’s happy with Conan. She has her own little family, her own peace carved out. I want my own now.
Hallie passes me my cocktail, and I take a sip. It makes me feel sick as I swallow it. So I place it back down.
Then the air shifts. It’s subtle, but I feel it. Like my body recognises him before my mind catches up. My breath stutters, and my eyes flick toward the doorway. And there he is.
Drago.
His jaw is tight, his shoulders tense, and the second he steps into the kitchen, his gaze locks onto me like a weapon finding its target. He doesn’t even look at anyone else. Because he’s already reading me. Scanning my face. Clocking the redness around my eyes, the way I’m blinking too much, the way my mouth is pressed into a line like I’m trying to hold myself together.
He crosses the room in three long strides.
“Lily,” he murmurs as he stops straight in front of me, blocking me from everyone else without even thinking about it.
His fingers cup my jaw, tilting my face up.
“Why are you crying, lastochka?” he asks.
I swallow, my throat tight. “I’m fine,” I lie automatically.
His thumb brushes under my eye, catching the last of the tears I didn’t even realize had spilled again. “Please don’t lie to me, baby.”
I try to smile. It comes out wobbly.
He leans in, pressing his forehead to mine, right here in the middle of the kitchen, like we aren’t surrounded by chaos and killers and a war looming over our heads.
“Talk to me, malysh,” he murmurs. “Please.”
The softness in that word makes my chest ache. It melts something inside of me when he slips in Russian terms. A little reminder of who I really am.
I blink hard. “I told Hallie,” I whisper. “About… everything. And that we want to move to Monaco.”
His entire body stills. “You’re so brave,” he says quietly.
I shake my head. “I’m not?—”
