But I do, anyway, because I want it.
When Viktor finally pulls back, his eyes are still locked on mine, a silent question, a silent promise. I’m breathless, my cheeks flushed, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm. I glance around the room, and yes, all eyes are on us. Every single one. They watch, some with shock, some with envy, some with grudging admiration. They have seen the Bratva boss claim his woman, publicly, unequivocally.
And in that moment, for better or worse, I am his.
17
LEAH
The scent of freshly brewed coffee and old books in the bookstore café is a comforting balm. The hiss from the espresso machine and the quiet clink of coffee cups above a hum of muted conversation is a familiar anchor in a life that has become anything but familiar. It’s a desperate attempt to cling to the normalcy that feels like it’s slipping through my fingers.
“You know, for a woman living on the Upper East Side with a—” She drops her voice and leans across the table, closer to me, “Russian mafia boss, you’re remarkably good at pretending to be a regular person,” Suzie teases before taking a sip of her latte.
The steam wafting out of her cup reaches the hot pink tips she dyed her hair the day before. She certainly knows how to stick out in a courtroom.
“Shh! Will you keep your voice down?” I shush her, my gaze darting around the cafe before meeting Suzie’s eyes again. “I like it here. It’s quiet. Predictable.”
Predictable. The word tastes like ash in my mouth. Nothing in my life is predictable anymore. Not since Viktor. Not since thebaby. Not since the bullets aimed at me. Even now, I see the black SUV idling across the street, its tinted windows opaque—Viktor’s men. Always there, always watching. A comfort, yes, but also a constant reminder of the invisible cage I now inhabit.
“Right,” Suzie says, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Because up until now, your life has been entirely predictable. A surprise baby at nineteen, helping your mom through an illness at twenty-one, an asshole of a fiancé who ends up in an accident that cripples him, and a one-night stand with a mob boss?—”
I sigh, leaning my elbows on the tabletop. “You make it sound so dramatic.”
“Itisdramatic, Leah! Your life is a telenovela, except with more actual danger and less questionable acting.” She grins, then her expression softens. “Seriously, though, are you okay? Is the baby okay? I know it’s scary, but I’m kind of glad someone is watching out for you, considering the circumstances.”
“I’m fine,” I say, a little too quickly. “Viktor handled it.” My mind flashes back to his iron grip on Clarissa’s wrist, the primal growl in his voice, the possessive kiss that had silenced the room. It was terrifying, exhilarating, and utterly confusing.
The bell above the door jingles and a customer walks in. I change subjects, asking Suzie about her newest client, whose case I’m also on, a high-profile celebrity divorcing a high-profile hedge-fund manager that’s gearing up to be nasty. My best friend is more than happy to discuss the case with someone she can share it with, and I’m glad to lose myself in the details. The afternoon passes, clouds slowly crowding the sky until they blot out the sun. Leaves scutter by the window as the breeze picks up.
“Ready to brave the big, bad world, babe?” Suzie asks, sweeping the crumbs of her pastry into her napkin before balling it up.
I nod, pulling on my coat. The SUV across the street is still there, a silent sentinel. I feel a pang of guilt, knowing my presence puts Suzie at risk, but she brushed off my concerns. In fact, her exact words were: “I’m fine. I’ve dealt with worse than a few burly bodyguards in my line of work.”
We step out onto the sidewalk, the sudden chill in the air in contrast to the warmth of the coffee shop. The SUV’s engine hums, and I see Iliya waiting for us. Viktor’s right-hand man gives me a curt nod, his usual stoic greeting.
A dark van screeches to a halt directly in front of us, blocking my view of the men. Before I can process it, the side door of the van slides open, and two figures, large and menacing, leap out. They’re dressed in dark clothing, their faces obscured by balaclavas.
“Leah! Run!” Suzie screams, her voice sharp with terror, and shoves me hard.
My feet are moving before my brain catches up. Adrenaline floods my system, a hot, urgent current. I glance back, seeing Iliya scrambling out of the SUV, shouting into his phone, but the van is a wall between us. The two men are fast, closing the distance, and there’s no way he’s going to make it to Suzie and me in time.
“This way!” Suzie yells, pulling my arm. We duck into the narrow alleyway beside the bookstore, the scent of damp concrete and garbage assaulting my senses. My breath comes in ragged gasps.
Footsteps pound behind us, heavy and relentless. They’re gaining. Suzie, a runner since we were in middle school, ispulling me along behind her, weaving through discarded boxes and overflowing bins. I follow her lead, my mind a frantic scramble of fear and a desperate need to protect us, including the life growing inside me.
“Here!” Suzie hisses, pulling me behind a dumpster. We crouch, heartbeats thundering in our ears, listening to the heavy, echoing footsteps. They pause, then move past us, their voices muffled and gruff, barking orders in Russian.
“They didn’t see us,” I whisper, my voice trembling.
“Not yet,” Suzie replies, her eyes wide with fear, a spark of determination still burning in them. “Come on, we need to lose them.”
We emerge from the alley onto a quiet residential street. We run, not in a straight line, but between alleys, anything to break line of sight, a maze of damp brick and the smell of garbage and moldering leaves picked up by the ever-sharpening wind.
I’m not sure where we’re going, only that we have to keep moving. My lungs ache, a fiery protest, and a sharp pain lances through my side. I press a hand to my belly, a silent plea to my unborn child.Just a little longer. We’ll be safe.
“Think, Leah, think!” I mutter to myself.Where will we be safe?
My mind, usually so sharp, feels sluggish, clouded by fear, before we come upon one of those chain gyms, the window facing the sidewalk full of people running and walking on treadmills.
