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Mypakhan’s ever-elegant, petite wife enters a moment later, her shy smile casting warmth into the mercurial atmosphere. Immediately, mypakhan’s demeanor shifts. The stress falls from his shoulders, and a smile brightens his face, making him look more his young age of twenty-two.
“Am I interrupting?” she asks gently.
“Of course not.” He pulls her into his arms, pressing a passionate kiss to her lips and arching her back as he leans into her.
Silvia giggles, breaking away to cast a self-conscious glance in the direction of Val and me. I keep my eyes carefully focused on the middle distance to offer them a sense of privacy.
Pyotr’s eyes follow Silvia’s gaze, noting her discomfort. “Give us a minute alone?” he commands, his tone authoritative even when he tries to make it sound like a suggestion.
Val and I nod and depart without hesitation, closing the door behind us. At the end of the hall, Val stops, taking up his post at a far enough distance to give ourpakhansome space.
“I’m going to head up to the roof for some air,” I state, flicking my eyes toward the ceiling.
Val nods his acknowledgment; our coordination as guards is effortless after years of working together.
Heading up the sweeping dark-wood stairs of the brownstone mansion, I make my way to the rooftop using the access from the third-floor corridor. Silvia’s transformed the space into a beautiful garden terrace in the three weeks since they moved to New York, and while in some regards, it still feels like things are in transition between the Matron’s rule and Pyotr’s, mypakhan’s wife has done an impressive job of getting the house in order.
Taking a moment to appreciate the warm sunshine pouring across the spacious area decorated with fragrant blossoms and greenery, I take a deep breath. As I release it, a sharp click catches my ear, and my gaze snaps in its direction.
Danielle Richelieu crouches near a pot of dahlias, her professional-grade camera poised for a close-up of the flowers. She snaps a second picture before releasing her breath and rocking back on her heels to assess the image on her camera’s screen.
Dressed in a bright coral tank top that stops a few inches above her navel and high-waisted boho shorts that contain more colors than I can count, Dani looks vibrant enough to be a flower herself. The nearly neon fabric brings out the golden glow of her skin and accentuates the white-blonde of her chic haircut—the same sharp-angled bob that always tricks me into thinking she’s older than she really is.
The girl is a stunner, athletic and outdoorsy, yet always stylish in her designer outfits and delicate gold jewelry. And now that her curves have filled in, it’s hard to ignore the fact that the sharp-tongued younger sister of Ben Richelieu has blossomed into a striking young woman.
My hands twitch with the urge to touch her as my mind flashes back to the first day I saw her since Pyotr moved back to New York.
I don’t usually touch the women surrounding mypakhan, on principle. But I’d caught Dani on instinct when I saw her falling. The large box she’d been trying to avoid had blocked her from view right up until she tripped and practically collided with me, and I hadn’t had time to think.
My palms tingle at the memory of her soft skin and toned arms in my hands. The way her wide eyes searched mine. Her proximity had sent a jolt of awareness through me, calling my attention to the trouble she could prove to be.
Because I can’t deny my attraction to her, though I know she’s too young for me. At least now, at nineteen, she’s of legal age. But a girl like Dani—someone who comes from a good family with a lot of money and the world at her feet—doesn’t fall for guys nearly a decade older and with nothing of merit to their name. Especially when that man is closely connected with criminal activity and her father is the tough-on-crime attorney general of New York.
Clenching my jaw until my teeth ache, I push aside the errant thoughts, acknowledging the fact that I will only ever get to admire Dani just as I am now, from afar. Besides, the last thing I need is for a girl to distract me when mypakhanis walking a fine line between peace and war with another Bratva.
Still, my eyes linger appreciatively on Dani’s perfect figure as she slowly rises. A soft smile graces her lush lips as she continues to peer into her camera. Then, as if sensing someone watching her, Dani turns to look at me. Eyes that match the clear blue sky above make my stomach drop, and for a moment, I freeze.
Now that I’ve been caught staring, I know I need to break the ice, but I find my chest unusually tight, too tight to speak.
“Efrem,” she says breathily, as if I’ve startled her, and I relish the sound of my name on her lips. “I didn’t hear you come up.”
She releases a nervous laugh that quickens my pulse. The smile that reaches her warm eyes makes her dimples pop, and my lips curve upward in response.
“I did not mean to disturb you.” I glance over my shoulder, debating whether I should take my break on the front porch rather than the rooftop patio. Because just finding myself in the same space as Dani sends wickedly tempting thoughts flashing, uninvited, through my mind. “I can go.”
“No, no—you’re fine. Please say,” she says quickly, one long-fingered hand reaching toward me as she takes a step in my direction.
I track the movement with my eyes and note the hint of embarrassment that colors her cheeks when she stops a moment later.
“If you are sure I will not disturb you,” I agree.
“I’d love the company.” Dani fiddles nervously with one of the many delicate gold rings that circle her fingers, then gestures to the flowers lining the rooftop wall. “I was just practicing my nature photography while I wait. Silvia’s got a divine garden.”
I nod, taking a moment to appreciate the inviting taste of nature in the middle of the concrete jungle that is New York. It’s a rare sight in the big city.
“What are you waiting for?” I ask after a pause.
“Excuse me?” Dani’s eyes snap from my chest to my eyes. Her cheeks flush an appealing shade of rose that makes me wonder what she must have been thinking—because I can guarantee it wasn’t about the garden she mentioned moments before.
