Minutes later, we’re seated at a corner table. The view’s perfect, giving us a great view of the spring day unfolding around us. We order coffee and croissants and start the catching-up process. The kids are totally happy, chomping on their croissants and people-watching. But I can tell they’re both beyond eager for Daddy to show up.
“God, how long has it been since our last coffee date?” she asks, shaking her head. “Like, four weeks?”
“Way too long. But that’s life when you’re a CFO with two children. The days are just this insane blur. How’s marketing at Dandelion going?”
“Never a dull moment,” she says, tossing her hair a bit. “Johan and Sasha have been talking about expanding into Scandinavia and taking over North Sea oil logistics.”
“I’ve heard. God, it’s been barely a year since the UK expansion, and they’re already talking about the next move.”
“That’s how these Bratva guys work—it’s always war in one way or another.”
“But this is the kind of war I’m fine with, where the only battles are in boardrooms.”
Thankfully, I can talk about the other kind of war like it’s a faint concept. It’s been three years since the end of the Orlov-Morozov war, and a little less than that since the beginning of the alliance between the two Bratvas. Peter had joined our little Dandelion-AngelCorp merger, bringing everything above board.
Not since that day with Ruth has a single shot been fired. I pray every damn day that that doesn’t change.
It’s beyond nice being able to sit and catch up with Angie. But when the bell above the entry chimes, my heart skips in the same way it always does when my husband’snearby.
Sasha walks in, tall, crisp, and almost unfairly sexy. His coat hangs open, dark suit immaculate underneath, tie loosened enough to suggest he’s already had a morning. Behind him, Bogdan stalks in like a half-domesticated grizzly bear. Just like every time Sasha walks into a room, people around him just sort of stop and stare. Bogdan does his typical scan of the room, then nods in my direction.
Sasha walks toward us, a smile on his face. “Morning, my love.” He leans down and kisses me—quick but warm, his thumb sweeping over my jawline, like I love. Then he turns to our children, who erupt into squeals at the sight of him, like they always do.
“Papa!” Lena yells, throwing open her arms for the hug she knows she’s going to get. Nikolai’s already squirming across the booth, going in for a hug of his own. He’s closer, so he gets scooped up first. Sasha plants a kiss on his forehead, then ruffles his curlswith his huge hand.
“My little prince,” he says.
Lena’s next, practically leaping into her daddy’s arms. He’s strong enough to hold them both with ease. A big grin, the grin I only see when he’s with the twins, spreads across his face.
“And my little princess,” he says. “My favorite pair.”
“Hey, I’m pretty cute, too.” Angie smirks.
“I suppose so,” Sasha says with a wry smile, giving the twins one more big kiss apiece before sliding them back into the booth. He leans over and takes Angie’s hand, lifting it toward him and placing his lips gently on top. “Always a pleasure, Angela.”
“And you too, Sasha. You could always call meAngie, you know. We’ve been acquainted for a while now.”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree,” I say. “I’ve been trying for years to get this guy to call me Gabby.”
“I prefer the dignity of the full name,” Sasha replies as he slips out of his coat and eases into the booth next to the twins.
Bogdan, as per usual, stands near the table like a sentinel. I lean over and give him a quick side hug.
“How’s it hanging?”
“It hangs, Gabby. Good to see you.”
“Uncle Bogs!” the kids shout in unison.
“Hello, little ones,” he says, reaching over and tousling their hair. “Your Uncle Bogs is on duty, so I can’t play.” To their disappointed groans, he says, “Later, later. Back at theapartment.”
“You know, Bogdan,” I say, “considering the way things are going, you might be aiming toward an early retirement.”
“Don’t say theR-word around him,” Sasha says, his arms draped over the back of the booth. “You’ll give him a heart attack.”
“I’m not even thinking about that,” Bogdan says. “Danger has a tendency of returning the moment you?—”
Another chime at the entry way cuts him off. Two men enter. A hush rolls through the room.
