“Find me a woman.”
There’s a pause. “Specifics?”
“She has to look posh. Not fragile. Smart enough to stand with me and not be a problem.”
He whistles low. “Short list.”
“You have until morning.” I don’t soften the deadline.
“What is this about?” he asks.
“She needs to pretend to be engaged to me,” I say. “Make it look true.”
“Understood.”
I hang up and step outside. The wind catches my jacket, pulling at it as I walk, but I don’t slow down. I keep thinking about my father’s face when he realized I wasn’t afraid of him anymore, how quiet he went after that. Let him rage, let Boris make his threats. They can keep their deals, their daughters, their politics. I obey to no one.
As it turns out, Iama psycho. And a need a fake fiancée now.
CHAPTER TWO
Kira
The city feels almost kind tonight. Warm for October, the kind of afternoon sunlight that lingers between the buildings, soft and gold, touching everything it can’t quite warm. For once, I don’t take the car. It’s late, but the streets are bright enough—neon signs, open windows, snippets of laughter from bars spilling into the air. My shoes ache from twelve hours on my feet, but walking feels better than sitting in traffic and pretending the silence beside me isn’t waiting to swallow me whole.
Lilly walks next to me, the rhythm of her steps light and careless. She always moves like the world owes her a favor and I love that for her. “You know, most people celebrate the end of a shift by doing something fun,” she says, sipping her coffee. “A bad decision, a drink that turns into a blackout.”
I smirk. “You’re describing your last Friday, not mine.”
“That’s the point,” she says, bumping my shoulder. “You need one.”
“I had a patient flatline in front of me two hours ago,” I remind her. “I think I’ll skip the blackout.”
She rolls her eyes. “God, you’re such a nun sometimes.”
I laugh under my breath, not because it’s funny but because it’s true. My life revolves around scrubs, double shifts, and bills that never stop multiplying. I can count my reckless decisions on one hand, and all of them involve trusting my brother.
Lilly kicks a pebble down the street. “You ever think about taking a day off?”
“Days off are expensive.”
“So are ulcers,” she mutters. “Come on, Kira. You’re twenty-seven. You should at least have a hobby that doesn’t involve vital signs.”
“I like reading,” I say defensively.
“You like medical journals.”
“And old movies.”
“On your couch. Alone.”
I sigh. “You’re relentless.”
“It’s a skill.” She nudges me again. “What about Lucas? Still MIA?”
A familiar pinch tightens in my chest at the thought of my brother. “Yeah. A week now.”
“Did you call him?”
