His response is immediate.
Take that back.
I press my hand over my mouth to muffle my laughter.
Nope. You're officially a sweety pie. It's documented now.
Vittoria.
Just my name. But I canhearthe growl behind it. Can picture his jaw clenching, fingers tightening around his phone hard enough to crack the screen.
I giggle into my pillow.
Goodnight, sweety pie.
You'll pay for that.
Promises, promises.
I turn off my phone before he can respond, still laughing.
Dmitri
Sweety pie.
She knows exactly what she's doing. That little provocation, wrapped up in innocent text bubbles, designed to make my blood boil. Vittoria Sartori thinks she can poke the bear and walk away unscathed.
I'll show you what sweety pie does to mouthy little princesses.
I'm already composing my response when my phone vibrates with an incoming call.
The caller ID reads:Nurse Katya.
My stomach drops through the floor.
"Mr. Baganov." Her voice is calm. Too calm. The kind of professional steadiness they train into medical staff. "Your father is experiencing some difficulties this evening. Doctor is on his way."
"What kind of difficulties?" I'm already moving, shoving back from my desk. Papers scatter. I don't care.
"His breathing has become labored. Blood pressure is dropping. The doctor thinks?—"
"I'm coming."
I don't wait for her response. The phone's still in my hand as I tear through the club's back hallway, shouldering past a server carrying a tray of glasses. They shatter behind me. Someone curses.
Not now. Please, not yet.
The prayer feels foreign on my tongue. I stopped believing in God when I was sixteen, kneeling in blood on a warehouse floor. But now those words claw up my throat anyway.
I hit Aleksander's number as I burst through the rear exit.
"Brother." His voice is easy, relaxed. He doesn't know yet.
"Get everyone to the house." My voice comes out rough, scraped raw. "Now."
Silence. Then: "How bad?"
"Bad enough. Karolina, Natalia, everyone. Call them."
