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“Yeah, he’s this absolute monster.” I shake as I recall what Arsen told me Yevgeniy did to his previous wife, Kristina. The drive-by shooting of my studio wasn’t just a warning. It was an attempt on my mother’s life; I’m sure of it. Suddenly, the image of her cold body, riddled with bullet holes as blood stains the ground, makes my mouth tingle with the urge to vomit.
“Arsen says that Yevgeniy has been hanging around our studio. I don’t know what he wants from us,” I continue when Mom remains silent. “Arsen isn’t sure either. But for now, we have to stay here until the situation is settled.”
“Settled,” she repeats in a hush. Her arms wrap around herself. She rocks lightly on her heels. “Oh, malyshka. Settled! Nothing is ever settled when the Bratvas are involved, you stupid girl!”
I recoil at her sharp words. She’s never spoken to me like this. Neither in word choice nor in tone. What’s gotten into her? She must still be in shock at everything, I think to myself.
Gingerly, I move close enough to put my hand on her shoulder. “All I know is that we’re safe here. I promise.”
“Yevgeniy Grachev,” she repeats grimly and stares at the floor with a heavy scowl. Her fingers are locked tight against each other, and her knuckles are bone white.
There’s something else here.
Something she’s not telling me either.
“Mamochka,” I say cautiously, “are you okay?”
“Just a headache.” She pats my hand, then gently removes it. “I’d like to finish unpacking. Could you make sure I’m left alone? This is a lot to process … and I …” she takes a shuddering breath, “I need a moment.”
She didn’t answer my question. “Yeah. Of course,” I whisper.
The tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife. My mom is a wreck, and rightfully so. I don’t think I would react any better in her shoes if I learned that my daughter married a pakhan, or that a monster like Yevgeniy is stalking us.
But even with all that, I’m filled with a huge sense of relief. And … joy.
I missed her.
I muster up a wan smile before I close the door and walk down the hallway. My body feels lighter. This situation isn’t ideal, but knowing she’s nearby, safe from harm, and that I can actually go and hug her again?
I’m calling this a win.
Taking the stairs in twos, I stop in front of Arsen’s door, tapping with my knuckles. “Arsen?”
He opens the door; before he speaks, I slam into him, clinging to his solid body. His scent overpowers my nose, and I breathe deeply to let it settle inside my lungs, chasing the sensation of power, of safety, of being with someone who allows me the room to be vulnerable.
I didn’t realize until this moment, but after the tension with my mother, it’s clear.
Arsen makes me feel like I can breathe.
In his arms, I don’t have to be afraid.
“Galina, are you all right?” he asks urgently.
“I am now.” On tiptoe, I kiss him, and then kick the door shut behind me with my heel.
His pleased chuckle tickles down my throat. “You’ve got a particular way of thanking people.”
“I wasn’t sure about this at first, but you were right,” I tell him. “I’m happy my mom is here. More than happy. I’m relieved. Thank you.”
“Of course,” he soothes, rubbing his knuckle on my cheek. “I would do anything for you, Galina.”
“I know.” Shoving him onto his bed, I move back. Not far … just enough so he can see all of me. He’s staring with rising interest.
Good.
I’m about to become the only thing he can think about.
27
