Page 87 of The Bratva King

I reach into my pocket and pull out the keys. I hold them up between us.

Her eyes open. “What’s that?”

“Keys.”

“I can see that. Keys to what?”

“Your car.”

She stares at the keys like they might bite her. “My car?”

“The one in the garage. Silver. Four doors. Reliable. Safe for Luke.”

“Nikolai, you can’t just give me a car! I told you I don’t want to mooch off you.”

I press the keys into her hand and close her fingers around them. “I have to go. Pasha’s meeting me at Tatiana in twenty minutes.”

I’m already walking toward the door when she calls after me.

“This doesn’t mean I’m staying!”

I don’t turn around. “We’ll pick out paint colors for the dinosaur room later. I’m thinking blue.”

I’m in the SUV and halfway down the driveway before I let myself think about the feeling in my chest again.

It’s light. A fluttering sensation. A good feeling, I think. Like a good Macallan warming my blood.

This might be what happiness feels like.

I’ve never been sure. Happiness for people like me looks different than it does for normal people. I’ve had satisfaction. I’ve had victory. I’ve had the rush that comes from winning.

But this quiet thing that’s sitting in my chest, I think this might be happiness.

I don’t know if I’ve ever felt it like this. I’m good at reading people. I’ve seen what happens to Maksim and Sergei when they talk about the women they love. Their eyes do something. Even Sergei smiles, especially when he talks about his twins.

I think about Luke. I like the kid. A lot. I’ve never thought I could be a father. I don’t know how to be a parent. I don’t know if I’m capable.

But Luke makes me feel like being a dad is a possibility. I know I’m a long way from being his parent, but for the first time, I can imagine it.

Yeah.

This might be happiness.

The morning heat is already oppressive, the kind that makes the air shimmer above the asphalt. I step out of the SUV and scan the perimeter. The two security guards at the entrance. The delivery truck parked near the loading dock. The driver leaning against the side panel, smoking.

If he were up to no good, my people would have run him off.

The casino floor is coming together. The gaming tables are all in position. The chandeliers are being installed overhead, each one lifted carefully into place by a crew that knows if they drop one, they’re paying for it. Literally.

I find Pasha in the main ballroom, with one shoulder against a support column, looking up at the ceiling.

“What do you think?” I ask.

“I think it’s going to be spectacular.”

“It will be.”

He turns to face me and stops. His eyes narrow slightly. “What happened to you?”