He doesn’t like me. He can’t.
When I lift the phone, I find a note in neat, unmistakable handwriting.
For you, since yours looked broken. You have my number.
You have my number?
What does that mean? Does he want me to call him just for fun? Like in a “hey, how was your day” kind of way? Or only when I actually need his help?
A stupid little thrill sparks in my chest, embarrassing enough that I shove it down and bury it with the wrapping paper like I can get rid of it that easily.
Stop being a child. He doesn’t want you. He’s just a nice guy, probably fixating on you like his new charity case.
Mandy reads over my shoulder, then peers up at me. “Okay. I take it back. He doesn’t just like you. That man is obsessed with you.”
“He’s not,” I say automatically, because the alternative makes my skin prickle.
Mandy gives me a look that says I’m crazy or delusional—or maybe both.
My fingers close around the phone again, and my mind trips over the same thought. The same question that keeps chasing me no matter how many times I try to outrun it.
What did I do to deserve this?
Nothing good ever comes without a price. How many times has life taught me that?
The urge to run hits. Running is what I do when something starts to become too good, too dangerous.
And still, the way my chest loosens, the way relief rushes in like air after being held underwater, makes me hate myself a little because I want to believe in it. I want to believe someone can hand me something and not expect anything back.
Mandy nudges me. “You’re staring at the phone like it might eat you.”
“Shut up.” I elbow her playfully, while my mind is still on the handsome single dad—or at least I think he’s single.
Oh my God, what if there’s a Mrs. Kirill and I’m over here imagining what it would be like if he kissed me?
“So, are you going to tell me what Mark wanted?” Mandy asks, slipping through my thoughts.
“Oh, that. Well…” I chew the edge of my lower lip. “I got promoted. To manager.”
Mandy freezes. Then her face splits open with a grin so bright it makes my throat sting. “Shut up! Oh my God, that’s great!”
She makes a strangled sound and throws her arms around me so fast, I nearly drop the box. One of the elderly men glances over, but Mandy doesn’t care.
“Can you not squeeze me like you’re trying to crack a rib?” I mumble.
But I’m smiling, and it feels strange on my face. I haven’t worn one this honest in a long time, if ever.
For the first time, the future doesn’t look like a wall. It looks like a door that might actually open.
CHAPTER SEVEN
KIRILL
The shareholders’meeting wraps up and the room starts to clear, chairs scraping back as men file toward the door with folders tucked under their arms.
These meetings matter. They keep people confident, and confidence keeps money steady. The legitimate side of what we do isn’t an afterthought, not if we want to stay untouchable, so we give it the attention it demands.
Once everyone is out, my brothers and I stay seated, the four of us alone in the quiet. After a moment, Konstantin steps away to call Emilia, checking on her and the baby she’s carrying.
