Ransom’s mom reaches for the wine bottle.
Baron bolts up.
Mav’s eyes widen.
And…
“EVERYONE DOWN!” Baron shouts just at the shattering of glass and the ringing of bullets pops through the air.
The next thing I feel is the wind knocking out of me as I hit the floor and Ransome lands on top of me.
There’s screaming. Car tires screeching. And then white noise that fades into a ringing and my vision goes dark.
53
RANSOME
“I’m alright. For fuck’s sake, I’m fine.” My mom shoves the EMT who is trying to bandage her hand away.
The bullets, shot from a Chadovich car outside the restaurant, luckily missed everyone inside. The only contact they made was with the bottle of chardonnay that my mother was reaching for. It exploded and cut her hand, but other than that, we saw no bloodshed.
This time.
My father, with little to no concern for his wife, throws down his napkin. He has been spewing Russian swear words for a solid ten minutes. Who he even called, I don’t care. All I care about is Amara being safe.
Once the perimeter has been secured, I turn to Ivan. “Take her to the penthouse.”
“But I don’t want to go,” she argues. “I want to stay with you.”
Amara is clinging to me like a five year old clings to their parent on the first day of school. Which I get—she has just been onthe other side of a lead shower—but I don’t have the mental bandwidth to entertain her right now.
“You can’t stay with me.” I usher her into the back of the Escalade.
“Ransome, we were just shot at! I don’t want to be alone!”
“You won’t be,” I tell her. “You’ll be with Ivan.”
“I don’t want to be with fucking Ivan! I want to be withyou.”
“I have things to take care of.” I shoot her a hard look. “This is all part of it. Get used to it. Now.”
She looks wounded by my words. Her bottom lip is trembling the way it does when she’s fighting a big emotion. The kind she desperately wants to keep private. Guilt, humiliation, fear.
I know she’s scared. Fuck me, I do. But she knew what she was getting into when she agreed to date me. She signed on the dotted line. She doesn’t get to have a mental breakdown and realize she’s in too deep now.
She’ll collect herself if she knows what’s good for her.
“Okay,” she whispers. “Fine. If that’s what you want, Mr. Rozanov.”
Her cold address makes my fists clench harder, but I force myself to ignore it. To ignore the glaring evidence that I’ve just hurt her in more ways than one.
Being unhurt was never part of our deal.
I close the door and Ivan takes off. Then Mav, Baron and I walk over to the parking lot.
“Did anyone see the car?” I ask.
“It wasn’t Tristan,” Baron answers.
