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“You’ve got our brother to keep you warm, while poor Galina and I have nothing.” She sighs and puts a hand to her forehead. “Woe is me.”
“Oh, relax,” I say, nudging her. “First of all, it’s gross to talk about your brother that way. And second, I’m pretty sure half the men in Moscow want you.”
“And the other half want Galina,” Emiliya says, nodding. “That’s true. And yet here I am, still so lonely.”
“Cheer up. You’re going back to Dallas soon.”
“Yes, yes, we are.” She nuzzles against my neck. For a cold-hearted Russian bratva princess, she’s surprisingly gentle and affectionate. I don’t know if I would’ve survived Moscow without her and Galina to show me around.
Maxim’s been so busy. He’s earning his way back into his father’s good graces, slowly but surely. He thinks we’ll be okay when we get back to the States in another six months, especially since Enzo has been doing a stellar job running the Bastone family business. Apparently, money is flowing from the houses like a river of gold, and Damir’s thrilled about the whole arrangement. That takes a lot of pressure off Maxim.
Except for one thing. I made Enzo promise to free all the girls at The Velvet Rope and to bulldoze the entire structure. He agreed and he did it the second month I was in Russia. Damir Novalov didn’t like it, but he didn’t stop it, either.
I got a call from Mira two weeks after it happened. She was in Mexico and we couldn’t talk long, but she sounded happier than I’d ever heard before. “Girl, you gotta come visit. Promise me, when you’re back from the other side of the world, you’ll come?”
“I can’t wait to see you,” I told her, and I meant it.
We slow outside of the apartment structure. It’s a block-sized building made from cream-colored stone with square windows and carved geometric shapes around the large wooden door. It used to be a Soviet-era apartment building, but the Novalov family owns the entire thing now. They gutted it and turned it into a massive mansion and fortress in the heart of the city. Galina scans her key card and we stomp inside past the dour-looking guards that don’t speak a word of English and are always frowning.
“Are you allowed to be happy in Russia?” Galina asks one of them, an older guy named Sergei. He doesn’t reply, only takes her jacket with a glare.
I laugh and stomp after the girls as we hurry upstairs. The Moscow Novalov home is a massive place with multiple rooms and more art than I could ever imagine. The staff is generally nice, if distant and tough in that Russian sort of way, but they’re growing on me.
“There’s my girl.” Maxim stands in the main living room near the windows. He has a glass of vodka in one hand and a smile on his face as I hurry over and give him a massive kiss.
“I thought you were working.”
“I came back early. I know I’ve been busy lately, but I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
“Get a room,” Emiliya says, rolling her eyes.
“Gladly.” Maxim tugs me away and I laugh. Galina pretends to puke.
We head down the back halls and into the private wing. His suite is the last on the left, a big set of rooms that’s more like an apartment in itself. I wrap my arms around him as he slams the door shut and kisses me slow and deep.
“Before you get too excited, I have a surprise,” he says, tugging back slightly.
I dig my fingers into his hair. “Don’t make me wait,” I say, my pulse hammering in my neck. I haven’t seen him all day, and now I get the chance to feel his touch in the middle of the afternoon—and he’s making me wait? Unacceptable.
“Just listen.” He grins and pulls out his phone. “Mother sent me this.”
It’s a picture of a pretty little Spanish-style church set back on a rolling hill. I gasp and stare with delight. “She got it?”
“She got it.”
“We’ve been working on that old priest for weeks and he finally gave in?”
“Mother’s very persuasive. It helps that we paid him a lot of money.”
I laugh and kiss him hard. I wanted that venue for our wedding so badly, but the priest was giving us a hard time about not living in his parish. Apparently, that’s only important to mortal people—not to the Novalov family.
Maxim wants to get married here and now, but I want to do it back home in the States so my brothers can attend. We’ve been living in limbo as an engaged couple, and it’s been absolute heaven.
“Since we’re sharing surprises, I have one for you.” I slip away from him and hurry into the bathroom. My hands tremble slightly and I’m so afraid of how he’s going to react. My stomach’s doing flips as I dig the little toilet paper-wrapped bundle out from beneath the sink and carry it over. I planned on telling him tonight—only his sisters know, and only because telling them was necessary.
He inspects the bundle, frowning.
