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“Lev?”
The other man turned to look at him, his bodyguard holding open the door.
“The shipment is due into port in less than a week,” Roman said, meeting his gaze through the dim light of the alley. “Think fast.”
5
RUBY
Ruby tried to focus on cleaning out the pastry case, but her mind was still on the man who’d come to her rescue in the alley.
She felt stupid realizing she didn’t even know his name, that she hadn’t thought to ask, but that hadn’t stopped her from thinking about him all afternoon.
She had no idea why he’d intervened in the argument between her and Adam.
No, it hadn’t been an argument. Adam had been abusing her, like he had when they were married. Samira said it was important for her to frame the abuse for what it was, to refute the argument Adam always made that she made him behave the way he did, that she was somehow at fault if he hurt her.
Healthy people argued without breaking someone’s arm. They argued without shoving someone’s face against a brick building.
She reached up and touched the tender skin of her cheek. There was no blood, but it was red and felt raw and hot to the touch. Nothing a little extra makeup wouldn’t hide, something she was an expert at after her five years of marriage to Adam.
She used to hide his abuse to make him feel better. She knew now that her desire to keep him happy, to keep him calm, was just one piece of the mind-fuck puzzle that had been their marriage.
Tonight she would hide the scrape on her cheek not for him but for Olivia.
No matter how bad it got with Adam — and she knew she would pay for the incident in the alley somehow — she would always protect his image for Olivia. One day she wouldn’t be able to do that anymore. Olivia would see her father for who he was, and nothing Ruby could say — or not say — would change how Olivia felt about that.
But for now, it was her job to protect Olivia, to give Olivia the illusion that all was right in her world, and that meant protecting Adam’s image.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she sat back on her heels and set down the cleaning spray to reach for her phone.
Her sister’s face smiled back at her from the screen — a picture Ruby had taken when they’d gone to the park with Olivia back in the fall.
“Hey,” Ruby said.
“She doesn’t want to wear the dress you packed for her,” Brooke said.
In the background, Ruby could hear the sound of Olivia singing along to the TV.
“What does she want to wear?” Ruby smiled up at Henry as he edged past her to clean the espresso maker. It was almost closing time, and the coffee shop was empty except for the occasional straggler looking for an evening caffeine boost.
“I’ll let her tell you.” For someone who didn’t have kids, her younger sister was always remarkably calm with Olivia.
“Hi, Mommy.”
Ruby smiled at the sound of her daughter’s sweet voice. “Hi, honey. What’s up?”
“I don’t want to wear the dress to the show.”
“Well, I didn’t pack you anything else because you said that’s what you wanted to wear.” Sometimes Brooke and Ruby’s dad, Douglas, watched Olivia at Ruby’s place, but some days Olivia went to their apartments while Ruby worked instead.
“Can’t you bring something else when you come?” Olivia asked with all the innocence of a five-year-old who didn’t know anything about work, the New York subway system, or time.
“I was going to come straight to Aunt Brooke’s after work,” Ruby said.
“I want the purple pants,” Olivia said, dangerously close to a whine. “And the orange shirt Grampa gave me.”
It didn’t surprise Ruby that Olivia had chosen completely average clothes — in a color combo that would make her the focus of any production — as her dream kindergarten show outfit. Her fashion sense ran from horrifying to sublimely artistic, a product of Ruby’s newly discovered creative side and her sister’s obsession with fashion probably.
