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Whenever I get the chance, I check the messages in my group chat with my guards.
Katia: No traces of Kyle.
Ruslan: Same here.
Katia: Even his guard doesn’t know where he went.
Ruslan: That bleached-haired kid is good for nothing.
I curse under my breath, then smile as Sofia tells me about her grown sons and married life.
Married men and women are generally more respected in the mafia. Being able to form a family isn’t a duty everyone is capable of.
I quickly type a message to Kyle.
Rai: Where are you? Text me when you can.
Not expecting an immediate reply, I tuck my phone away and listen to Sofia. She’s older, in her fifties, but still appears serene as she speaks. Being part of the mafia at a young age makes girls turn into women like Sofia, women who know their duties and don’t deviate from them.
“Now that you’re married, you can start your own family, Rai,” she tells me ever so casually.
“We’re still not at that stage yet.” And we never will be. There’s no way in hell I would start a family with someone as unpredictable as Kyle, someone whose past I know nothing about and whose future I can never predict.
“Why not?” Emilia slides beside her sister-in-law, slurping from her smoothie. “Trouble in paradise?”
You wish, bitch. Instead of saying just that, I choose the diplomatic road. “We just want to spend more time together before kids come along.”
I hate how the lie doesn’t feel like a lie when I say it.
“Oh,” Emilia pouts. “And here I thought you’d toss him out.”
I glare at her. “Not happening.”
“I understand. He’s such a charmer with that accent of his.”
“Emilia,” Sofia reprimands softly.
Emilia finally lets it go and moves away to the other Italian women who showed up.
Sofia apologizes on her behalf, and I pretend it’s fine, even though I’m internally plotting the best way to spike Emilia’s smoothie with poison.
After making vague plans to have another gathering like this, everyone leaves, escorted by their guards.
I make sure Lia is in her car before I take Anastasia and walk to where Ruslan and Katia are waiting for us in front of my vehicle.
“Any sign of Kyle?” I ask, checking my phone again. No reply.
Ruslan shakes his head once, his brows drawn together.
“How about his guard—what’s his name again?”
“Peter,” Katia says.
“Yes, Peter. Where is he?”
She lifts a shoulder. “He said he’d keep searching, but I don’t think that kid can come up with anything useful.”
At this rate, it seems Kyle has disappeared into thin air.
“Why? What happened to Kyle?” Ana’s bemused gaze slides to each of us.
“Get inside, Ana.” I guide her with a hand on her upper back. My limbs resume shaking from when he left me earlier.
By the time we reach home, I’m nearing the combustion point. I force myself to go into Sergei’s office—the one that used to be Dedushka’s.
Usually, I avoid this place because memories of my grandfather hit me full force. The smooth wooden desk and the neat library filled with Russian books have Nikolai Sokolov’s touch to a T. He loved educating me here, sitting me on his lap to read me a book or just going about his business as I read in the corner.
Now, however, I feel numb, almost like the world is losing colors and I can do nothing to stop it. I find Sergei with Vlad going through paperwork.
I remain standing as I brief them about the attack. I’m surprised my voice is calm as I relay the facts.
Sergei stands and approaches me slowly before he takes my hand in his wrinkled one. “Kyle will be fine. He knows his way around.”
“Why do you make it sound as if I’m worried about him? I’m not.”
Vlad gives me a strange look, but he says nothing. I leave them and head to my room. To prove that I’m not worried, I stop checking my phone, take a shower, and go to bed.
Or try to, anyway.
In ten minutes, I’m up on my feet, checking and rechecking my texts. There’s no reply. I read my emails and find the clinic’s test, which says he’s clean. The date at the top indicates he took it late last night and in an emergency room. I wonder how the hell he made that an emergency and how he got the results so quickly. Though, if there’s someone who could make it happen, it’s Kyle. I bet he flirted with a nurse and threatened a doctor. The jerk.
I stand by the balcony and call him. The standard unavailable message greets me.
Just like seven years ago.
The same message. The same circumstances.
Tears gather in my eyes. Mom used to tell Reina and me that tears are a weakness and shouldn’t be in our beautiful eyes, and yet, I couldn’t stop them even if I wanted to.
I’m about to call again when his scent envelops me, and then, his sensual voice follows. “Did you miss me this time, Princess?”
