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Hedeon grinned at me. “Go ahead. Show Robin a good time. We’ll talk more later.”
“Yeah… right. Thank you.”
He nodded.
I turned and reached out a hand. Robin walked over and took it. I led her back through the main double doors and into the hall. We walked in silence until we reached the chandelier near the front door.
Then I burst out laughing.
She grinned and hugged me. I felt her body tight against mine. I held her there and breathed in her smell.
“I just got a lot more responsibility,” I said.
“But it’s good. You wanted it.”
“I know.” I looked into her eyes. “Are you okay with that?”
“I’m okay. I’m happy. It’s crazy, but I’m happy.”
“I love you, Robin. I want you to be in this with me. But I’ll understand if you need to walk.”
“I’m here,” she said, “and I’m not going anywhere. I love you too.”
I kissed her, held that kiss for a long while, and felt my pulse race through my body.
Saving her life had been the best decision I ever made.
Without her, I don’t think we would have gotten so far. But more than that, without her I don’t think I ever would’ve fallen in love. That part of me was locked up deep down inside, covered over by layers of lust and anger and violence. But she chiseled down through me, and because of that, I was a better man.
I’d be a better man for her.
That was my promise. Even unspoken, even if she didn’t know it. I’d be a better man for her, always, as long as I lived.27RobinOne Year LaterI opened the front door and smiled out at the man in a rumpled suit. He was in his sixties, balding, gray beard, white shirt, black tie. He looked up at me with a strange mixture of hope and fear, and part of me wanted to reassure him.
But instead, I stepped aside. “Come on in.”
“Thank you.” He ran a hand over his head and followed me into the house. I led him to a door on the left, careful to guide him away from the living area.
Guests got to see the entrance and Leo’s office. Nobody went into my part of the house.
“He’s expecting you.” I knocked twice on Leo’s door.
“Come on,” Leo called out.
I opened it. The man stepped inside, fingers pulling at his jacket nervously. He smiled and I could see a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck.
“Ah, Leonid, sir, hello. How are you?”
“Come, sit down.” Leo gestured at the chair. He gave me a smile and a wink.
I shut the door and let them do business.
Music played in the kitchen as I returned to cooking. I was making a simple Russian dish, a stew called solyanka. It was one of Leo’s favorites, and one of the few things my father had taught me when he was still around and functioning.
I heard voices down the hall then the front door open and shut. Leo came into the kitchen, wiping his hands on his pants and smirking at me.
“More money,” he said. “That’s all they ever bring me these days. Money, money, money.”
“What a horrible problem.” I leaned over the island and kissed him. “You hungry yet?”
“Starving. Smells good.”
“What did that one want?”
“Paid tribute for one of the old Volkov clubs. A little place we hadn’t gotten around to dealing with just yet.”
“He looked terrified.” I gave him a look. “You haven’t been harassing people, have you?”
“Of course not, little birdie. I think my reputation just precedes me a bit.” He grinned and took a beer from the refrigerator. He cracked it open and took a long drink. “Shit, honestly, I thought he might die right there in my office.”
“Go easy on them. They know not what they do.”
He laughed and sat down on a stool. He leaned on his elbows and watched me.
“You know, I’ve been thinking.”
“Yeah?”
“You like this pace, right?”
I shrugged. It was a house in Old City that had been renovated a month before we bought it. I didn’t want to admit it, but it was more or less my dream home. Granite counters in the kitchen, original hardwood throughout. All the modern amenities I could ask for. And a gorgeous roof deck to top it all off.
But I had to play it cool with Leo. He always had a new surprise for me.
“It’s okay.”
He rolled his eyes. “I know you’re obsessed with it. I was thinking, maybe we could make it more… permanent.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You own it, right?”
He waved a hand. “Sure, sure. Owning a house doesn’t mean it’s permanent, though.”
“What makes a house permanent?”
“Turning it into a home.”
I crossed my arms and leaned against the counter across from him. “Okay then. What makes a house a home?”
“Family.”
“You need to be specific.” I felt my pulse pick up. “Way more specific.”
