“I’ll always be by your side.” I lift her hand to my mouth and kiss it, inhaling the floral notes from her skin.
I mean it.
Danika is the perfect person to be my wife. She’s smart, beautiful, and handles crises pretty well, which is a must in our world. Sure, she’s not as savvy as my mom, but many people aren’t. Danika is pretty involved in our world, though. Her dad has ties to the Bratva, and she grew up knowing he dealt in money laundering for the mafia.
I’ve asked Dad if we could invest in his business or offer a bailout of sorts, and he said he’ll look into it. Being my father-in-law comes with certain perks.
And hewillbe my father-in-law.
Danika and I will get married after we graduate from college. We might be too young, but we’ve been together for years, and she’s my perfect match.
Myonlymatch.
We’ve even talked about children. Danika wants at least two, and I’m fine with that, not because I’m thinking of kids at this age, but because I want to be a responsible, protective, and fun-loving dad, just like my parents are to me.
My friends, specifically Killian and Nikolai, say I was born with an old man’s brain, but they never lived under the weight of expectations and responsibility like I have.
They don’t understand.
No one does.
I’m about to drop Danika’s hand when loud laughter catches my attention.
Familiarlaughter with an edge of huskiness that I can pick out amongst a crowd.
My body stiffens, my skin breaking into a sweat, as if this is a full-on lethal attack, but my eyes are scanning the entrance.
My throat closes.
Donatelli, the owner of the restaurant, stands by the front door, welcoming his guests for opening night.
No way.
I must be imagining things.
And yet as Donatelli shakes the laughing maniac’s hand, asking his staff to take the basket full of wrapped goods and the bottle of alcohol that one of the guards is holding, I feel the earth swaying beneath my feet.
Yulian Yaroslavich Dimitriev.
What thehellis Yulian doing here?
This is neither his territory nor the place he should be.
It’s been years since I last saw him—four, to be exact—and it’s as if time is still trapped in the nooks of that humid, drafty, and absolutely miserable cave.
On second thought, it’s not.
He’s taller now, still taller than me, and he’s grown ridiculously bulky—as big as Nikolai, who loves building muscle for sport.
Seems Yulian has gone down the same path as Niko. His muscles are so defined, he’s about to rip out of his white shirt.
While all men here, including me, are dressed in suits or tuxedos to fit in with the upscale event, Yulian’s only wearing a white shirt with the first few buttons open, and black slacks that frame his tall legs. His hair falls in haphazard strands on his forehead, making him look every bit a gangster.
In reality, so am I, but I dislike the stereotype he’s embracing so openly.
“Please come in, come in. This is a lovely surprise.” Donatelli is personally leading Yulian to one of the tables opposite me. We have two tables between us, but I track his movements as he flops onto a chair, an arm flung over the back and his legs stretched out in front of him, the usual grin on his face, the same boredom in his blue and brown eyes.
“I wasn’t expecting you, but it’s my honor you’re able to make it to my humble restaurant.” Donatelli grabs the menu from a staff member who looks to be sweating.
