“See,” I say to my husband, “Katya thinks you’re overbearing too.”
He smirks. “I prefer ‘attentive.’”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling. He leans down and kisses my forehead, his hand resting briefly on my shoulder before he heads back to the kitchen.
“So,” I say, shifting to face her, “Juilliard. You start in the fall, right?”
Her face lights up, genuine excitement breaking through. “Yeah. I still can’t believe it’s real. A few months ago, I thoughtI’d be married to Elio Valenti, barefoot and pregnant by the end of the year.” She shudders.
“Well, that’s definitely not happening.”
“Thank god.” She pauses. “Because of Newtown Creek?”
I nod. “After everything went down with Marina being revealed as the Ghost, the city’s... tense. The other families think Kirill and I played them. That we orchestrated the whole thing.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Marina’s soldiers targeted the heirs specifically. They separated them from their security, zip-tied them, and loaded them into trucks. She claims it was to scare them into complacency, nothing more. Either way, she ended up letting them go. No one got hurt. But they’re damn pissed.
Katya’s quiet for a moment, processing. “So the truce is over.”
“Yeah. Everyone’s back to watching their backs, competing for territory. The old alliances are dead.”
Which means Kirill, now leading the Bratva alongside his brothers, has been busy in meetings and territorial negotiations. But no matter how busy he gets, he always makes time for us.
She looks down at her wineglass, something complicated crossing her face.
“How are you doing?” I ask instead. “Really?”
She shrugs. “I’m fine. Going out, having fun. Living my life for the first time ever.”
“Yeah, your brothers have mentioned it to me a few times. I guess they’re not used to this side of you.”
“My brothers can mind their own business.”
“They’re just worried. You went through something traumatic,” I point out gently.
“So did you. So did Kirill. Everyone’s been through something.” Her tone softens. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be a bitch.I just … I don’t know. I feel like I spent my whole life being good, being quiet, being what Papa wanted. And now he’s gone, and I’m supposed to just go back to being that person? I can’t. I don’t even know who that person is anymore.”
I reach over and squeeze her hand. “I get it. You don’t have to be anyone but yourself.”
She nods, but I can see the doubt in her eyes. She’s searching for something, trying to fill a void that her father’s betrayal left behind.
Kirill steps back into the room, sliding his phone into his pocket. “You staying for dinner, Katyusha?”
Katya stands, grabbing her jacket. “No, I’ve got plans. But thanks.”
She hugs me carefully, mindful of my side, and then she’s gone.
Kirill walks her to the door, exchanging a few quiet words I can’t hear, and then she’s gone. He returns a moment later and collapses onto the couch beside me, pulling me gently against him.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better. Sore. Tired of being sore.”
He presses a kiss to my temple. “Give it time.”
