I lean back, steepling my fingers while my mind calculates angles and outcomes. This is the kind of challenge that requires decisiveness. Clear assertion of control before curiosity becomes entitlement.
“Set a meeting,” I say. “I don’t like surprises.”
Liev nods, already reaching for his phone.
Might as well end it before it begins.
As strategy unfurls neatly in my mind, another image intrudes; unwanted and relentless. Alyona in the alley, her breath hitching, her body responding to me with a trust I do not deserve and a hunger that mirrors my own. The forbidden nature of it only sharpens the edge. She is Liev’s daughter and not mine to claim.I have already crossed a line with her in ways that cannot be undone.
I close my eyes briefly, trying to shut her out because distraction is a liability and obsession is a weakness. I’m supposed to be better than this.
When I open them again, I know one thing with absolute certainty.
Whatever comes next, whether it is a cartel testing my borders or a woman testing my restraint, I will not lose control of what is mine.
Chapter 6
Alyona
My phone buzzes just as I’m stepping off the bus, shoulder aching pleasantly from the weight of my bag and my brain already half shut down from hours of practice heads and clinical lectures and being very careful not to mess up someone else’s face. Late morning light bleaches the sidewalk, too bright, too honest, and when I see my father’s name on the screen, I sigh before I even answer.
“Liev.”
“Alyona,” he says, warmth layered over disappointment like he’s learned how to sound casual through effort. He asked me years ago to call him Dad, I refused only once, and he hasn’t bothered asking again. “I was hoping I’d catch you.”
“I’m walking home,” I say, which is my way of signaling that I’m tired and not emotionally available for whatever this is.
“That’s fine,” he replies quickly. “I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
That lands heavier than it should, and I tighten my grip on my phone as I head toward my apartment. He does that sometimes, says things that sound like closeness without quite earning it, and it makes something sore and complicated twist in my chest.
“I’m fine,” I tell him preemptively. We both know that today hurts.
“I know,” he says, too fast. “I didn’t mean?—”
“I know,” I repeat, softer this time, but angry tears are gathering at the corners of my eyes. They fatten as I turn my head. Why can’t he just leave me alone?
There’s a pause, and in it I can hear everything he isn’t saying, all the years he missed, all the conversations we never had because he left when my mother was pregnant and decided distance was easier than accountability. Left us in Europe while he flew here, to New York and then Savannah, with Kazimir Baranov.
I don’t bring it up. I never do. Some silences have calcified into something permanent.
“Well,” he says eventually, clearing his throat, “I was thinking we could have dinner tonight. For your birthday.”
I stop walking.
“Oh,” I say. I thought he’d already given up on this a long time ago. Memories start to flood my mind. My first year here, raw and grieving, pushing a cake to the floor, not knowing me enough to get me a proper birthday present, and the silence he gifted me instead. “You don’t have to…”
“I want to,” he insists. “Twenty-five is important.”
Important. The word makes my chest ache. It’s sharp and sudden, because twenty-five is the age my mother bought our first little townhouse in London. She should be here to mark this milestone with me. There is a hollow place inside me today that I haven’t acknowledged out loud, and I won’t, not to him.
“I’m really tired,” I tell him. “I had school all morning, and I worked late last night.”
There’s another pause, heavier now. I can picture him frowning. He hates that I work at The Foundry. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him when I accepted the job, but it had beenan act of defiance. How long ago that seems now even though it was only nine months.
I feel older, tired, and worn out.
“Dinner doesn’t have to be late,” he says carefully. “We could go somewhere nice.”
