Page 140 of Dark King Daddy

Zoe’s eyes widened. “Was anyone—”

“Everyone got out. A dispatcher pulled the alarm. Fourteen men. Minor injuries.”

“Jesus, Ksenia.”

“We spent the morning at the yard. Then a meeting at my brother’s office. Then I called my husband because he told my driver to take me home without asking me, and I told him he couldn’t do that, and he agreed.”

Zoe was quiet for a moment. Her fingers traced the rim of her cup.

“Okay,” she said. “That’s—okay. That’s good. He listened.”

“He did.”

“But he still did it first.”

“He did.”

Zoe nodded. She did not push further.

“What’s it actually like?” Zoe asked. “Living with him. Not the Bratva stuff. Not the security. Just—day to day. What’s it like?”

I opened my mouth. I closed it. I opened it again.

“He made origami plants with me,” I said. “He’s terrible at it.”

Zoe’s mouth twitched.

“And he took me to dinner. A proper date. He’s—he’s kind of . . . sweet.”

“Sweet? He’s a Bratva Pakhan.”

“He’s sweet.”

“That’s insane.”

“He asked me about the bathhouse,” I said. “What I’d do with it if it were mine.”

“No . . . murder?”

I laughed.

“No murder.”

“Extortion?”

“Not so far. Not of me.”

Zoe stared at me.

“We planned a dinner,” I said. “A family dinner. At Dover Street. All normal stuff.”

Zoe rested her chin on her hand. The amusement had left her face.

“Ksenia,” she said.

“What?”

“Do you love him?”