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“There may have been a couple of survivors. Younger members of the Levitsky Family who slipped through the police’s fingers. It was bound to happen. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve been lying low all this time, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.”
“But why are they aftermespecifically?” I ask. “They bombed my car. Almost shot me while I was out on a walk.”
“Because you’re the next best thing, Dimitri,” Konstantin says unapologetically. “They think I’m out of the picture. I wouldn’t be surprised if they thought I was dead. And they can’t exactly go after Mikhail because he has triple the security protection you do. You’re an easier target.”
My stomach twists painfully. That makes an alarming amount of sense. “And once I’m out of the picture, Mikhail will have no choice but to take action.”
Konstantin nods. “You’re his right-hand man. Without you, Misha would have to manage the Antonov Bratva all by himself. It’d leave him wide open for attack. Your death would cause a chain of events that would ultimately lead to the Antonov’s demise.”
I shake my head. “All for revenge againstyou.”
“I’d sleep with one eye open,” Konstantin warns with a smile. “It sounds like you’ve got a powerful enemy breathing down your neck.”
Chapter 20
Dimitri
It’s almost five in the morning by the time I get home. My body feels like it weighs a thousand tons, making it damn near impossible to climb the stairs and go to my room.
So I don’t.
Instead, I find myself heading to Natalya’s room at the other end of the hall, my brain too rattled to think against it. I open the door quietly and shuffle over, shrugging off my jacket and toeing off my shoes before slipping under the covers with her.
I circle my arms around her waist and curl up against her, our bodies fitting together snugly. Everything smells like her, of roses and summertime. The pillows, her blanket, her lovely hair. It brings with it a sense of ease, something I’ve been desperate to have since leaving Konstantin and The Pit.
“Dima?” she mumbles, rolling over in bed to face me. “What time is it?” she asks, sounding half-asleep and as adorable as ever.
“Too early,” I whisper, pressing my lips to her forehead.
“You alright?”
It’s such a simple question, but the answer is a loaded gun I don’t want to fire. I want to confess everything. Who I am, what I do for a living, the danger Natalya is in because of me. My mind is a mess. The truth will scare her away, and I honestly don’t know if I can live with that. Natalya is a sane woman. Smart, too. She’d have no reason to stay once she learns I’m Bratva, that she was almost killed—twice—because she was caught up in a revenge plot that has nothing to do with her.
I hold her a little tighter, a little closer. “I’m alright,” I lie through gritted teeth.
Natalya’s eyes open, her hand slowly making its way up to caress my jaw. “You’re lying,” she whispers.
My chest hurts. I don’t think she understands the power she has over me. Even I don’t understand it, how this beautiful, brilliant woman has so quickly become a pillar in my life. It’s impossible to tell when it happened or why, only that sheisand I can’t imagine ever putting her in harm’s way. The only thing I want right now is to keep her safe—even if it means letting her go.
Dammit all, I’m a selfish man. Is it really so impossible to have both?
Natalya tucks herself in further, her gentle breaths grazing my neck. “Go to sleep, Dima. Everything’s going to be okay.”
As my heavy eyelids drift close, I want nothing more than to believe her.
* * *
“Dimitri!” Natalya exclaims from downstairs. “Dimitri, come quick!”
My heart rails in my chest as I all but fly down the stairs. Are we under attack? Could it be the Levitskys? I throw myself into the living room and—
“I think Simon’s about to take his first steps!” she declares with a massive smile on her face. She’s kneeling, her hands on either side of my son, holding him in an upright position. “Stand over there and call him over!”
I move into position, crouching only a few feet away with my hands extended in front of me. “Come on, buddy. You can do it!”
Dahlia’s the next to enter the room, holding her phone so she can take pictures of the momentous occasion. Simon seems distracted by all the noise, but not at all displeased. My son beams as he holds onto Natalya’s hand, bracing his weight against her for balance. His laughter fills the whole room.
“Come on, Simon,” I encourage. “Just one step for Dad?”
