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Serena: Oh, sure, but you can talk about ‘handling’ things?

Nikolai: I was talking about manual labor. Handling objects.

Serena: Ha, ha,. So, are you out there… doing your plan?

Nikolai: Yes. The wheels are in motion.

Serena: Can we see each other tonight? Would we be safe if we walked Pico along the beach very late, in a quiet area?

Nikolai: You’d be safe anywhere with me. You don’t have to worry when we’re together.

Serena: Mateo used to say things like that. I’m only telling you that so you know why I might get awkward about it sometimes.

Nikolai: Mateo was making promises he couldn’t keep. I’m telling you how it is. You’re special. This is different. We make a good team. We’ve got the same sense of humor. We both care. The sex is also the best of my life.

Serena: It is?

Nikolai: You don’t have to ask that.

Serena: See? Like this. I want to get sucked in and let myself feel it… but when you’ve been burned, it’s hard to know. Look where I am now. Relying on a man for the roof over my head, taking time off work because my man is letting me, dependent on him for my safety.

Nikolai: This won’t last for much longer. I’m going to make this right for you and Zoe. I promise.

Serena: Let’s see each other later. Please don’t do anything rash.

Nikolai: You can’t think like that once certain lines have been crossed.

Serena: I don’t want you to get hurt. Or to see you behind bars. If this is the start of something, why end it before it can begin?

I look at her last text, knowing she’s right. That’s why Anton was scared too, for the first time in his life. But a Bratva prince has to do certain things, make certain tough decisions. A man can’t wear the crown if he’s not comfortable slitting a man’s throat.

CHAPTER 23

SERENA

Dmitry Sokolov sits in a chair in his open doorway, casually cleaning his disassembled gun. He’s a big man, moving with ease, with silver-streaked hair and broad shoulders. I feel sorry for any man who tries to hurt my baby girl when he’s around. I hold out the tray. “Cookie, Dmitry?”

“No, thank you,” he says, his eyes on his task.

“I’m going to check if Owen wants any,” I reply.

I’ve only met him briefly, but I know about his story. I know about his sister. And, in a way, I saved his life.

I knock on the door. Owen answers a minute later. He wears thick horn-rimmed glasses and is on the slighter side. We only met briefly, when I moved in.

“Hey, Owen,” I say. “I wondered if you wanted a cookie?”

“Uh, sure,” he replies. He reaches forward and takes one, smiling awkwardly.

“Maybe you want to invite me in,” I say quietly.

“Uh… okay.” He tilts his head at me, stepping aside.

I walk into the apartment. It’s sparser than ours, proving that Nikolai either gave us the best one, or he furnished ours at rapid speed when he learned we were moving in… or before, assuming I’d eventually cave and do what the prince demanded.

Owen walks into the adjoining kitchen and living room. There are dishes everywhere. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly.

I put the tray down. “Don’t worry about it. We can cut the awkward neighbor awkwardness if you want. I’m the woman who learned Rafael was going to kill you. Told Nikolai, and that’s why they grabbed you.”