“Oh, sweetheart, you’re going to love this one. It’s tailored just for you. Sparkling like the stars.” I reveal the dress, watching her eyes widen at the glitz.
She hesitates a bit, biting her lip, looking between the dress and me. “It’s really pretty,” she says slowly, “But, um, can I wear a suit like Luka?”
I pause, then smile warmly, understanding the longing in her eyes. “A suit? Now, that’s a stylish choice. Luka would be proud.”
Her face lights up, and she dashes over to another section of her closet, pulling out a smart little suit that’s every bit as tailored as the Chanel dress. “This one!” she exclaims, looking at me for approval.
I laugh, nodding. “That’s the one! You’re gonna be the best-dressed kid at the party!”
Chapter 18
Luka
The three of us stand, looking every bit the elite of the underworld. Dimitri obsesses over his cuffs, ensuring every detail is just right. Erik lounges on the armrest of a chair, his dark suit making him look like he’s straight out of a GQ shoot. But his gaze is distant, his mind clearly elsewhere. I recognize that look; he’s running through every nuance of tonight’s plan, mentally rehearsing each step. His fingers absentmindedly play with a Swiss blade, twirling it, dancing it over his knuckles, and teasing the blade close to his thumb. It looks like he might slice it clean off.
“Five cars, then?” Dimitri asks, breaking the silence. He’s referring to the convoy we have prepared for tonight’s operation. The cars, filled with our chosen men, will be our main force in the attack against Aleks.
“Enough firepower to do the job, not enough to raise alarms,” I assure him. The balance is crucial. Too few, and we risk failure; too many, and we tip our hand too early.
Erik leans back, his eyes fixed on the blueprint. He shakes his head and mutters, “You think she’d prefer a garden? Miniature roses?”
For a fleeting moment, Dimitri and I exchange glances, then turn back to Erik, each of us grappling with a mixture of confusion and disbelief, silently asking ourselves what the hell he’s going on about.
“You sure about the dollhouse for Yulia?” Erik goes on. “I mean, it’s not too much?”
I glance at Dimitri, who’s stifling a laugh. “Really, Erik?” I ask. “We’re planning an attack, and you’re worried about a dollhouse garden?”
“It’s a very important dollhouse,” Erik responds, his face dead serious.
Dimitri bursts into laughter.
“And here I thought you only cared about guns and explosions,” I joke.
Erik raises an eyebrow. “Who says you can’t appreciate both?” He rubs his hands together, his voice tinged with wicked satisfaction. “By the way, Ivan just messaged. Our men are already mingling with the circus crew, slithering their way in. The game’s afoot.”
Dimitri’s voice drips with venom. “And how many packs of Aleks’s dogs are we expecting?”
“Three groups,” Erik replies. “Eight cars.”
“Eight cars, three groups. Bastards are playing it safe,” Dimitri mutters.
“And they should,” Erik counters, his eyes glinting with anticipation. “They know who they’re up against.”
“Make sure our men know their targets,” I instruct, my mind racing with the details of the plan.
Erik’s smirk turns into a knowing grin. “We won’t waste a single bullet. We know what we’re doing.”
“And the dollhouse?” Dimitri can’t resist asking, a teasing smile on his face.
“Safely packed away,” Erik answers, a hint of pride in his voice. “Some things are just more important than bullets and explosions.”
The low hum of the bunker’s private lift is a sudden intrusion, and we all turn as the doors slide open, revealing the tall figure of Svetlana.
“Svetlana,” Dimitri acknowledges, his eyes flickering with concern. “What’s happening up there? Any movement from Anya?”
“Anya’s been to Yulia’s room after sneaking from the kitchen,” she reports, voice flat. “Couldn’t catch what she said to Sophia, but it was a threat.”
“Fucking bitch,” I growl. “Review the exit strategy with us,” I ask as I glance between Svetlana and the map she’s just placed on the table.
