Vadim laughs from deep in his belly, and it makes my heart skip. "Fair enough."
"But other than that," I continue, my voice softer now, "someone exactly like you."
He stops walking and turns to face me. His hands rise to frame my face as he looks at me like he's trying to memorize every detail. Whatever he's about to say, my heart feels so fragile. I can barely take the excruciating anticipation.
"Danica—"
His phone rings, shattering the moment, and he closes his eyes briefly while his brow furrows in frustration, then he pulls the device from his pocket. He glances at the screen and his expression hardens.
"I need to take this."
"It's alright," I say calmly, though it's just as frustrating for me.
He walks a few steps away as he answers. I can't hear what he's saying, but I watch the tension creep back into his shoulders, the way his free hand clenches into a fist at his side. Whatever the call is about, it's pulled him back into that other world he lives in.
I turn my attention to the water, trying to hold onto the feeling of the evening even as reality intrudes. I know what I feel for him now. I'm in love with Vadim, and it's a powerful feeling.
But love isn't enough.
Love doesn't change what he is or the life he leads. Nor does it erase the danger or make this situation any less impossible.
Regardless of how I feel, I know love is not all you need to have a healthy relationship. Trust and security and respect—they're all important. And while I believe I can trust Vadim in some things, there are other things I'm not sure of. And when it comes to security, I don't think it’s something he could ever provide.
It breaks my heart, but even if he had said those words just perfectly, I'm not sure it would make much of a difference.
I don’t fit in Vadim's world at all. And I don’t know if I ever will.
21
VADIM
Iwalk far enough down the beach that Danica won't hear the conversation. Fyodor's name on the screen means this isn't social, and the timing couldn't be worse. I was actually enjoying myself tonight, losing myself in the pretense that I could be someone normal with Danica, and this just pisses me off.
"What is it?" I grumble, irritated that my evening has been interrupted.
"Yuri's putting together a team," Fyodor announces. "He wants them in Belgrade within the week."
I close my eyes and bite back the curse that wants to escape. "I still have more than a week left on the deadline we agreed to." Yuri told me two weeks and it seems like he's getting impatient now.
"The boss is feeling antsy. He wants justice for his son, Vadim. He's not sleeping, barely eating. Every day that passes without results is another day he's drowning in grief."
The guilt trip rankles my good mood. Dominic was a good man, and his death has left a wound in the organization that won't heal until someone pays for it. But bringing in more men now, especially before I've confirmed who the real shooter is, will only complicate things.
"I understand that," I say carefully. "But rushing this won't help anyone." My cousin is only doing his job being the bearer of bad news, so I can't be upset with him. But it does piss me off. I can do this. I just need time.
"You know how he gets. Once his mind's made up, there's no changing it." Fyodor pauses, and I hear the sound of him lighting a cigarette. "He's also preparing for the baby. Inessa's due soon, and I think he wants this resolved before then. You know?"
That I can understand. I wouldn't want to bring a new life into the world while mourning another loss either. But understanding doesn't make this any easier to accept. He's lost faith in me.
"Tell me about the team he's assembling," I say as I glance over my shoulder at Danica. She's staring up at the moon and she looks beautiful.
"You know… a few soldiers, maybe Lev. Nothing too special, just feet on the ground to do the work."
"I want to add someone specific to the list." I pull up the grainy image from the video on my phone, zooming in on the tattooed arm. The quality is terrible, but the design is visible enough. "I'm forwarding you an image. The bearer of this tattoo is who I want to come to Serbia."
"Why?" Fyodor asks as I hit send and bring the phone back to my ear.
If I tell Fydor I think this man is a traitor, I lose all leverage against him. He'll find a way to twist things and make me look bad, and the hit goes out on me instead. No, I'm keeping this to myself. The victory will be mine to celebrate and I'll purge the family of one more rotten seed.
