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I’m still tremblingwith nerves as I get ready for work. Why the hell couldn’t I stop thinking of Milos Levin? Of how he called himself a villain when I knew he wasn’t. The Sabatinis wouldn’t work with him if he were. He’d gone against his father to stop trafficking. It didn’t matter the reason why. Men in the mafia were raised to be obedient to only their leader and their father. For him to challenge his father was huge.
Stop it, it didn’t matter what he did or why. I’m sure he’s already forgotten me. I need to do the same. There’s a slick black Mercedes sedan in my driveway, the SUV from this morning behind it. The passenger who went into the meeting with Milos’s brother is waiting.
“This is your car. Milos does not want you walking. You stay warm and safe.” He offers me the keys.
I know the house is empty—my little sister is hunting for the newest serial of her favorite manga, and my mother is at work with Carlo—but I still glance at my house, sure I’m being set up. This has to be a joke. All I can do is back away from him while shaking my head. “No, I don’t want it. Tell him to take it back.”
I try to go around him. No way in hell am I taking a car from Milos Levin. It would come with so many strings I’ll never get loose.
He steps in front of me. “The car is yours. You will not walk. Your safety is important to Milos.”
“Go away and leave me the hell alone,” I yell and try to get around him.
Again he’s in front of me. “Do not anger Milos. You will regret it.”
The words stop me. In the world of mafia those words were a promise that always came true. “Are you threatening me?”
His eyes go wide, shaking his head. “No, if you don’t take the car then we are to take you to work. You do not walk.”
Relief fills me—he was used to using threatening people. From how wide his eyes get, it’s clear he was also given the order not to hurt or scare me—no doubt Milos would see that as his privilege alone. What a weirdo.
Sighing, I nod. Step close, my hand out as if I’m going to take the keys. Instead, I kick into his instep hard. Then I turn and run. I only manage to get thirty feet before the big SUV is in front of me. Annoyed, I kick the door and try to go around it.
The guy I kicked is out of the car. He lifts me and stuffs me in the back seat. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He slams the door, immediately I hear the locks click.
“If you will not take the car, then we are to drive you to work. It is too cold for you to walk.” I don’t speak Russian, but I’m pretty sure he says a swear word as he pulls out his phone.
A flood of Russian comes out of him. Oh yeah, he’s talking to Milos.
“Tell him I’m not taking the fucking car! He can take it and shove it up his ass!”
The guy looks back at me. He says something. Then chuckles as he looks away.
I’m guessing if I were smart I’d be afraid of why he was laughing. Too bad for him and Milos I’m not. There are so many things I could do to get back at him, but I don’t dare, not willing to deal with the end result. So all I do is seethe in frustration as the SUV drives to the clinic. I jump out the moment the door is unlocked and flip them off as I go inside.
Darla sighs when she sees me. “Your man is gorgeous. How and where did you get him?”
I shake my head. “He’s not mine. How is the kitten?”
“Oh you mean Koshka? That’s what Milos said to call the kitten. He paid a fat wad of cash to cover expenses and for the charity fund. Beautiful and kind. Swoon. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him,” she teases.
Faking a smile, “You can have him.”
It annoys me I can’t tell her what he really is—mafia, Bratva. To do that would mean I’d have to tell her how I know. Which isn’t an option. I’m grateful I don’t have Carlo’s name. No one knows who my father is, and my hope is no one ever will.
The whole time I’m at work I’m waiting for Milos to make an appearance. I’m relieved when the day ends and he doesn’t. I really am. Carrying around the adorable black kitten with yellow eyes that glow up at me, I refuse to think of how those eyes remind me of Milos.
I’m the last to leave the clinic. It doesn’t bother me, usually. I just hate how it’s dark out already. All I have to do is throw out the trash, then I can lock up and leave. I step outside, the kitten in the pouch I’ve been carrying her around in all night.
The huge SUV is waiting, the door opens to Milos.
“Go away,” I hiss at him as I toss the first trash bag. Immediately the guy who threw me in the SUV earlier is at my side and tosses the other two bags into the dumpster.
“Are you the last and only one in the building?” Milos is daring me to tell him differently.
“I thought I was never going to see you again,” I mutter.
