He’s more amicable than I expected. Stepan barely speaks; I’m not even sure how much English he understands.
My eyes drift to the women’s table.
Viviana talks animatedly with Mila, her face bright.
Katya listens, amused.
But Autumn, she sits stiff, shoulders tense, lips pressed tight.
Something is wrong.
Or maybe she’s just overwhelmed.
Either way, I feel her unease from across the room like a wire pulled tight against my spine.
Did Mila say something? No.
It’s her face; Autumn’s gone pale.
“Excuse me.” I push back from the table. Every man nods except Declan, who watches me like he already knows something’s wrong.
Fuck this.
My wife comes first. She will always come first.
I cross the room, kneel beside her chair.
“Autumn.”
She doesn’t even blink. Viviana and Mila fall silent, eyes flicking to me with concern.
“Trouble.” I take her hand gently, and that’s when I see what she’s clutching under the table.
Her phone.
The screen lit.
“Miss me?”
My vision goes black at the edges.
She tries to yank her phone back, but I pocket it instead.
“You’re surrounded by Irish and Russian mafia,” I whisper against her ear. “Trust me—you couldn’t be safer.”
She nods, barely.
I take her chin and lift her gaze to mine. Her pupils are huge with fear.
I keep my voice calm. Controlled. But inside? I’m ready to tear the city apart brick by brick.
“I will never let anything happen to you, trouble.” I kiss the tip of her nose.
She gives me a tiny smile, no words. That’s enough for now.
I rise and walk back to the table.
Flanaghan is staring with a smirk, like he enjoys the thought of her being scared.
