But Dimitri is shaking his head. “It won’t.”
I raise a brow at him. “You can’t promise that.”
“No,” he admits. “I can’t. But I can promise you that I’ll have six of my best men with us. Men I trust with my life and yours. We’ll maintain a perimeter and stay in public spaces. At the first sign of trouble, we abort.”
I want to say no. I want to tell him this is reckless and dangerous and a terrible idea.
But he’s right. We can’t hide forever. And maybe—maybe if we can draw this person out, we can finally end this and finally be safe.
Finally have a chance at... whatever this thing between us is becoming.
“Okay,” I hear myself say. “Okay, we’ll do it.”
Relief flashes across his handsome face, quickly masked. “Tomorrow morning. I need time to coordinate security, plan the route, and identify safe zones.”
Wait, this is too soon but what choice do I have? “Tomorrow,” I echo numbly, swallowing heavily.
What have I just agreed to?
The next morning arrives too quickly.
I stand in front of my closet, staring at my clothes like they might offer some guidance. What does one wear to potentially get attacked at a mall?
I settle on dark wash jeans and a dark blue colored sweater. I tap my finger against my lips as I survey my shoe options. Do I wear heels? I dismiss that thought immediately. It’s impractical. I then look at my flats versus sneakers. I decide on sneakers because I might need to run. The thought makes my stomach churn.
When I come downstairs, Dimitri is waiting in the foyer. He’s dressed similarly casual—black jeans, gray henley, and leather jacket. But there’s nothing casual about the way he’s standing. Alert. Ready. Every line of his body screams controlled violence waiting to be unleashed.
His eyes sweep over me when I reach the bottom of the stairs, and his expression softens. He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles.
“You look beautiful,” he says quietly.
Heat floods my cheeks. After everything he can still make me blush with a simple compliment.
“Thank you,” I manage, my heart thumping.
Six men wait outside, all dressed to blend in but clearly his security team. I recognize a few of them from the night of thecar bombing. The ones who threw themselves over us without hesitation.
Dimitri introduces them quickly, Sergei, Viktor, Mikhail, Dmitri, Pavel, and Anton. I try to commit the names to memory, but my brain is too full of fear and adrenaline.
The drive to the mall takes twenty minutes and I spend the entire time gripping Dimitri’s hand in the back of the SUVs. It’s the first time I've left the estate in two weeks, and everything looks foreign. Threatening.
I’m still watching.
The words echo in my head on repeat. Whoever sent that text could be anywhere. They could be following us right now.
Could be waiting for us at the mall.
“Breathe,” Dimitri murmurs, squeezing my hand. “I’ve got you.”
I force air into my lungs and then out again. Try to calm the racing of my heart.
It doesn’t really work.
The mall is massive. It was recently renovated to encompass three stories of gleaming glass and polished marble, anchored by department stores at each end. Sunlight streams through the enormous skylight overhead, creating patterns on the white floors that shift as clouds pass. The second and third levels wrap around the central atrium, connected by escalators and glass elevators that glide up and down like mechanical heartbeats.
Even at 11 a.m. on a Tuesday, it’s bustling, which isn’t a surprise as the holidays are approaching. Families push strollers past window displays. Teenagers cluster around the Apple storein hoodies and too-loud laughter. Elderly couples walk the perimeter for exercise and a group of women with shopping bags emerges from Nordstrom, already planning their next stop.
So many people. So many faces. So many potential threats.
