A man who made me feel more alive than I had since before the accident.
Climbing into bed, I laid still, staring into the darkness that never left me, my mind refusing to quiet.
You're going to get yourself killed.
I sighed heavily.
Probably.
Yet I wanted more.
I wanted to know who Milo really was. Why he'd been in the alley that night. Why he was still following me even though he knew I hadn't called the police or said anything to anyone.
I wanted to know what would've happened if he hadn't stepped back.
But most of all, I just wanted to see him again.
CHAPTER 7
MILO
Iknew her coffee order.
Vanilla latte. Oat milk. Extra hot.
I knew she wrapped both hands around the cup and lifted it to her nose before she drank. I knew her shoulders dropped on the first sip. I knew she closed her blue eyes—beautiful and useless as they were—like that coffee was the first good thing to happen to her all day.
I knew because I'd watched her. Because I couldn't stop watching her.
And now I was standing in line at the café near her apartment, ordering her fucking coffee, telling myself I was only doing to fuck with her. Keeping her on her toes. To see if she would slip up and give me something to tell the Russians.
The barista handed me the cup. "Have a nice night!"
I smiled. The easy one. The one that made people trust me.
It died the second I turned away.
You've lost your goddamn mind.
My father's voice suddenly slammed through my head. Cold and disgusted.
You're buyingcoffeefor a mark. What's next? You gonna braid her hair? Write her a poem?
Once again, I told the ghost to go fuck himself and walked to my car.
When I arrived at The Silver Table, hot coffee in hand, the service entrance was unlocked. It always was during the dinner rush with the staff sneaking smoke breaks and deliveries coming in through the back. Normally, I would point this security gap out to Viktor before some rival family snuck in a bomb, or worse.
Tonight, however, it got me inside without anyone noticing.
I moved through the back hallway, past the walk-in freezer with its incessant humming that easily covered the sound of my footsteps, and slipped into the alcove beside the platform where Raven played. The piano sat empty. Her shift didn't start for another eleven minutes, and she would be here in four.
I set the coffee on the closed lid of the Steinway, positioning it where her right hand would land when she reached to open it.
Then I pressed my back against the wall where the candlelight didn't reach me and waited like the obsessed fuck I'd become.
This is insane.
It really was.
