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“Promise?”
My heart drops, but I puff out my chest, hands on my hips. “Of course! They wouldn’t dare miss it. If they do, they’ll have me to deal with.” I fake an angry pout, and she giggles.
Yulia’s eyes bounce back and forth to the door like she’s expecting Luka, Dimitri, and Erik to pop up out of nowhere.
“Let’s get ready, princess.” I look at the time, my heart pumping in anxiety, knowing things may get nasty tonight.
I’ve never thought I would come across someone so near to evil. My feelings for Aleks are beyond anger, beyond hate; it’s a gnawing loathing that eats at me every time I think of him.
At Yulia’s birthday party! Fucking bastard Aleks!
I glance at my watch, and my breath catches.
It’s five now.
Svetlana’s voice is loud and clear in my head. “Mr. Ivankov’s guests are arriving today at six p.m. Cocktails and food must be ready by then. We will have the circus crew performing from seven until eight,” she announced this morning.
If she knows what’s really going on, she’s doing a damned good job of hiding it. There’s no sign, no hint, nothing. Just the same cold instructions. It’s maddening.
Only another hour before the guests start arriving. Who are these guests, anyway? Friends of Luka? Business associates? Or just random people here to gawk at the spectacle?
My mind spins, and I can’t shake the feeling that tonight’s event is a ticking time bomb.
I need to tell Luka about Anya’s plan, plain and simple. She’s up to something, and I can’t let my guard down. Right now, my job is to protect Yulia, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
“Sophia?” Yulia’s voice pulls me back from my anger. I look down at her innocent eyes, a calming presence.
“Yes, sweetie?”
“Will there be cake?” she asks, her eyes wide and hopeful.
I laugh, shaking off my irritation. “Of course! The biggest and tastiest cake you’ve ever seen.”
She beams, and my heart lightens.
“You know,” I add, steering her attention back to the wardrobe, “the cake’s going to be amazing, but what would make it even more special is the perfect dress to match it. I have just the one!”
I walk over to her inner closet and pull out a pink Chanel dress that’s a work of art in itself. The fabric is a soft silk that feels like a cloud, with delicate lace detailing around the neckline. Tiny sparkling crystals are embedded in the material, catching the light as I move it. The dress probably cost more than my entire year’s salary from my old jobs. It’s ridiculous and beautiful at the same time.
“Oh, sweetheart, you’re going to love this one. It’s tailored just for you. Sparkling like the stars.” I reveal the dress, watching her eyes widen at the glitz.
She hesitates a bit, biting her lip, looking between the dress and me. “It’s really pretty,” she says slowly, “But, um, can I wear a suit like Luka?”
I pause, then smile warmly, understanding the longing in her eyes. “A suit? Now, that’s a stylish choice. Luka would be proud.”
Her face lights up, and she dashes over to another section of her closet, pulling out a smart little suit that’s every bit as tailored as the Chanel dress. “This one!” she exclaims, looking at me for approval.
I laugh, nodding. “That’s the one! You’re gonna be the best-dressed kid at the party!”
Chapter 62
Luka
THE THREE of us stand, looking every bit the elite of the underworld. Dimitri obsesses over his cuffs, ensuring every detail is just right. Erik lounges on the armrest of a chair, his dark suit making him look like he’s straight out of a GQ shoot. But his gaze is distant, his mind clearly elsewhere. I recognize that look; he’s running through every nuance of tonight’s plan, mentally rehearsing each step. His fingers absentmindedly play with a Swiss blade, twirling it, dancing it over his knuckles, and teasing the blade close to his thumb. It looks like he might slice it clean off.
“Five cars, then?” Dimitri asks, breaking the silence. He’s referring to the convoy we have prepared for tonight’s operation. The cars, filled with our chosen men, will be our main force in the attack against Aleks.
“Enough firepower to do the job, not enough to raise alarms,” I assure him. The balance is crucial. Too few, and we risk failure; too many, and we tip our hand too early.
