Page 59 of Mafia King’s Dangerous Vow

I study him.

“I can live with Mikhail. As long as he doesn’t scare my clients.”

“He’ll behave.”

His phone buzzes again. He still doesn’t answer.

“You can take it,” I say.

“I will.”

He finishes the last bite first. Every terrible mouthful. Then he stands, carrying both plates to the sink like this is something we do. Like breakfast is a thing that happens between us now.

At the edge of the kitchen, he pauses.

“Tamara.”

I look up.

“Don’t call your father alone again.”

My spine stiffens immediately. But before I can snap back, he adds, “Not because you need permission. Because men like him know exactly how to hurt you when no one else is listening.”

I don’t know what to say to that. So I say nothing. Aleksander lets me have the silence. Then his phone buzzes a third time, and the moment breaks.

“I’ll be in the study,” he says.

“Working?”

“Yes.”

“On something illegal?”

“Probably.”

I shouldn’t smile.

I do.

He sees it.

Before he turns away, the almost-smile on his mouth becomes real.

18

SEVENTEEN SHADES OF EXPENSIVE BEIGE. (ALEKSANDER)

The snow has started again, softening Manhattan into blurred white edges and muted traffic. Tamara stands near the study windows in dark jeans and a cream sweater, her laptop balanced against one hip while she argues with someone named Maya through wireless earbuds.

“The brass samples are wrong,” she says, pacing slowly across the rug. “No, not warm brass. Satin. Otherwise the entire palette shifts yellow under evening lighting.”

I stay in the doorway and let her finish.

Focused Tamara is different. Sharper, more animated—alive in a way she isn’t when she’s thinking about Kalinin or the marriage or the choices that have been taken away from her.

She notices me eventually, pulls one earbud free.

“Maya, I’ll call you back.” Her laptop closes with a soft click. “You’re staring,” she says.