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Harcross is a region of the city to the northeast. I can’t think why he’d go over there, but at least he’s not leaving the city. “It will be. Thanks, Mikhail. Bye.”
I give Dad a kiss on the cheek. “I’m going to get Kristian. If he calls, tell him I’m on my way.”
Without giving Dad a chance to answer, I flee out the front door and head for my car. As I get on the road that heads to the northeast, I suddenly remember who lives in Harcross.
Sergei Lenkov, the arms dealer.
Panic tumbles through me. Kristian’s angry and he’s buying more firepower?
I step on the gas and the car shoots forward. I have to get there as soon as possible. I don’t know what his intentions are, but fury and weapons aren’t a good mix. Best-case scenario, he’s gone to murder Sergei Lenkov for daring to flirt with me at Yuri’s birthday party. Worst-case scenario, he wants a new weapon in order to kill his own brother.
Overhead, the skies are heavy with gray clouds that have been threatening a downpour for days. We’ve been without rain for weeks and the air is dry and dusty. The heavens are teasing us, and the sky is more leaden than ever, but still not a drop falls.
When I arrive in Harcross, I drive up and down the streets, searching for Kristian’s black Corvette and trying to remember where Sergei Lenkov lives. It’s an upmarket area with lots of expensive cars, and I keep thinking I’ve found it, only to realize it’s a Porsche or a similar make.
Then I spot it. Kristian’s car, parked on the street without him in it. I pull in behind the car, get out, and turn on the spot, studying the buildings around me. A spa. A florist. A jeweler. Several mansions.
One mansion in particular looks familiar. I think that’s Lenkov’s mansion, but I can’t be sure. Or is it the one farther down the street? There’s another familiar car parked outside, a white Lexus with a gold moon and stars hanging from the visor. Eleanor’s car. She must be shopping in this part of town today.
I peer again at the mansions, wondering which one belongs to Lenkov. I’ve only ever been here once before. Kristian brought me when I was fifteen because he was sourcing some rifles for a friend.
I suppose there’s only one way to find out. I take a deep breath and step forward to press the button on the gates.
“Buying a grenade launcher, princess?”
I whirl around and see Kristian standing behind me, his expression unreadable. As usual, the sight of him in his black suit with his white-blond hair spilling over his forehead takes my breath away.
“I’m looking for you, actually. Are you here to see Lenkov?”
He nods at the home a few houses down. “Lenkov lives in that one.”
Which doesn’t answer my question. His shoulders are tight and so is his jaw, but I can’t discern which emotion is making his blue eyes as stormy as the skies overhead.
“Please don’t leave,” I whisper, my lower lip trembling. “Dad told me everything. How he forced you to stay away by threatening to punish me. I know now that it must have been the worst two years of your life. It was for me too.”
Kristian stares at me in silence, taking in my desperation. The tears clinging to my lashes. “I’ve come to my senses, dandelion. You’re never going to be mine.”
I step toward him with a cry and grab his shoulders. “Don’t say that!”
“It’s not what I want, but it’s true. You can never be mine.” His eyes bore into mine as he inflicts those words on me. Then his face melts into a smile. “But I thought you might do me the honor of allowing me to be yours.”
He’s reached into his pocket and he’s holding something between us. Something that sparkles in his fingers.
An engagement ring.
My hands almost fly to my mouth. I want to gasp in shock, but there’s a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and he’s enjoying himself far too much already.
“I wasn’t visiting the arms dealer. I was in the jeweler’s.” He nods over his shoulder.
I pass from despair to surprise to relief so quickly that I feel light-headed, and then arrive at maddened, exasperated adoration.
Of course he would want to rip the rug from under me with his proposal. The man can’t do anything without causing a load of drama.
I put my hand on my hip and give him a sassy look. “Diamonds? How ordinary. I thought you’d propose with a gun.”
He smiles and walks me over to his car. Opening the passenger door, he reaches into his glove box and pulls out a polished wooden case. I open it and find a sleek silver revolver nestled in red velvet with a word etched along the barrel.
Pakhanovna.
