Page 37 of Mafia King’s Dangerous Vow

No. But that stopped mattering somewhere between the church and my kitchen.

Because whatever David Kalinin did to Tamara⁠—

It is the kind of thing a man hides because even criminals would call it unforgivable.

11

THE EXIT STRATEGY IS BECOMING COMPLICATED. (TAMARA)

By nine-thirteen, I lose my first client.

Not officially. Officially, Amelia Healy sends an impeccably polite email explaining that she’d like to “reassess project timing.”

In luxury-client language, that translates to: I don’t trust shady business near my penthouse renovation.

I read it twice, though the meaning is clear the first time.

The city hums beyond the windows. Beside me, the second monitor whirs softly. My drafting tablet glows under the architectural lamp Aleksander’s people brought over from the studio two days ago. Fabric samples are spread across the massive desk beside customs reports and shipping manifests someone forgot to remove from the far end.

My workspace and his are beginning to bleed into each other.

Another email appears. One of my contractors asking whether invoices should still route through the studio account or through my office manager “given the recent changes.”

There it is: the paperwork version of captivity.

I lean back in Aleksander’s chair and make myself stop reading. The business matters. Not only because it is mine, but because it is liquid, portable, and clean.

Enough to disappear with, if I ever had to. A part of me always kept that option open.

A knock sounds lightly against the open study door. Aleksander steps inside already dressed for the day in charcoal and black, coffee in one hand, phone in the other. He takes one look at me.

“What happened?”

I almost say nothing. Around him, that instinct is becoming dangerous. He notices too much.

“I lost a client.”

He crosses the room and sets the cup beside my elbow.

“Amelia Healy.”

“You know the project?”

“I know the building.” He reads the email. “She’ll come back.”

I study him. “That was a normal client assessment, right?”

His mouth almost moves. “Yes.”

“That was not reassuring.”

“Then I’ll work on my delivery.”

Despite myself, a quiet laugh slips out. The sound changes the room. I look back at the screen before it becomes something I have to address.

“I need to start meeting clients again. Soon.”

Aleksander stays silent for a moment, thinking.