I straighten, the hair on the back of my neck standing up. “That’s a weird question.” I want to tell him it’s none of his business, but I’m not brave enough for that.
He tilts his head, considering me. “Neighborhood is not safe.”
“I manage.”
“You should not have to ‘manage,’” he says. “You should be driven.”
I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Sure. I’ll just call my chauffeur.”
Something flashes in his eyes. Something like irritation. Or maybe concern. It’s gone before I get a grip on the emotion. “I will take you home,” he says.
My heart jumps. “No, thanks.”
“That was not a suggestion.”
I curl my fingers into my palms so he doesn’t see them shake. “This is my job,” I say, forcing my voice to stay steady. “You’re a customer. You don’t get to decide what I do when I’m off the clock.”
For a second, I think he’s going to push. Instead, he exhales, slow, like he’s reining himself in. “As you wish,” he says finally. “But be careful, Rosie Morgan.”
The way he says my full name makes it sound like more than a warning. Like a promise.
A small shiver runs down my spine. My name tag does not include my last name.
He stands, slides a folded bill under his empty glass, and then joins the others. They leave in a quiet sweep of dark coats and leather shoes, the cold seeping in through the door before it swings shut.
The room feels lighter the second they’re gone. Like we’ve been holding our breath and can finally exhale.
Louise whistles softly when she sees the bill. “He left you a hundred.”
I stare at the money, then at the door, where the last traces of his presence feel like they’re still clinging to the air.
“Guess he liked the vodka,” I say, even though we both know that’s not what this is about.
My phone buzzes in my pocket again. Dad.
I look at the hundred. I look at the texts.
I think about the college website open in a browser tab on my phone, about the life I want and the life I have.
Sighing, I go to the front door and lock it. Louise and I finish closing and then head home in opposite directions. As I walk through the quiet, dark streets, the hood of my raincoat covering my head, I dream of a future where I’ll be more than just a bartender with too many bills and one selfish father.
And I try to not think about the stranger with the pale eyes who knows my last name, or what that means.
2. BRIDE EVALUATION
ALEXEI
As Rurik’s car glides away from the curb outside Danyl’s house, I stand on the sidewalk a moment longer than necessary.
I should have insisted on taking her home. But we didn’t go in my car and myPakhanhad to get to another meeting. His time is more valuable than my curiosity about a girl who might soon be my wife. I’m a good soldier in the brotherhood, but regret still fills my chest.
“Problem?” Danyl asks over his shoulder as he walks toward his house.
“None,” I say and fall into step behind him, boots crunching over the gravel. The night is raw and damp, the kind of cold that seeps through clothing and into the bone. The security lights around his house flare to life as we approach. Their brightness reveals the stone walkway, and cameras turn silently to follow our path. I should know. I managed the installation of Danyl’s security system at his new home.
The house is enormous, but not ostentatious. It has iron railings and is built of white brick. A dark gray door that could probably stop a bullet or two mark the entrance. Two men in dark jackets that hide their weapons flank the door. They nod to us as they pull the heavy steel open.
Warmth hits my face, along with the smells of something baking. Lemon and sugar, and butter. It doesn’t fit with the image in my head of how I usually spend my time with Danyl. As his enforcer, I do the violence while Danyl wields the words. But now that he is married, Danyl has one foot in darkness and the other in bliss.
