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It had been her favorite thing to do whenever Ruby felt shy or uncertain, and it was one of the things that had hurt the most when her mom had been caught in the cross fire of a Mob hit. She’d been the one to scoff when someone on the news said the city was dangerous, saying that four generations of her family had lived there without a single serious incident.
She’d thought she was safe, but she’d been wrong.
Ruby’s phone buzzed in her pocket, announcing a text from her sister.
Where are you?
On my way up, Ruby texted before starting for the stairs with a sigh.
She climbed to the third floor, trying to get her head straight, trying to forget about the man with dark hair and steel-gray eyes who’d seemed to peer into her soul, seeing all the things she fought so hard to keep from view.
She thought about the private car and driver, wondered what he did for a living. She wanted to discount him as a Wall Street bro, one of those guys who got multimillion-dollar bonuses, lived in a loft in Tribeca, and microdosed to stay focused, but that didn’t seem quite right.
He had an air of volatility that didn’t fit, had been too quick to step in with Adam in the alley, despite Adam’s uniform.
Anyway, it didn’t matter. Roman had stepped in when she needed help, had made her evening easier with the car, had made her remember what it felt like to be really attracted to someone again.
The next time she saw him at Roasted, she would smile and take his order and that would be that.
And she would make a point not to be alone with Adam when things were contentious.
She reached the third-floor landing and hurried to her sister’s apartment, using her key to let herself in. It was like stepping into a tornado, the TV blaring, Olivia whining, and Brooke turning over sofa cushions, clearly looking for something.
“Thank god!” she said when she saw Ruby.
“Sorry.” There was no point telling Brooke that she’d gotten a ride from a hot stranger when she’d never see him again.
“Mommy, Aunt Brooke lost Mr. Frog,” Olivia whined, tipping her tear-stained face to look at Ruby before throwing her arms around Ruby’s legs.
“Um, excuse me,” Brooke said, returning the couch cushions to their normal position. “I’m not the one who had Mr. Frog last.”
“I’m sure he’s here somewhere,” Ruby said, lifting her daughter into her arms. “But I agree that it’s all Aunt Brooke’s fault that he’s missing.”
“Hey!” Ruby’s sister protested. She’d obviously been interrupted in the middle of getting ready, her brown hair wavy in some places and straight in others, her makeup done except for lipstick. Her robe was half-open to reveal her bare breasts and tiny underwear.
Ruby laughed and looked at Brooke. “You know Mr. Frog is your responsibility right?”
Olivia nodded, her lips pushed out in a pout.
“Then do you think it’s fair that Aunt Brooke is looking and you’re not?” Ruby asked her.
“No,” Olivia said.
Ruby hugged her, touching her cheek to her daughter’s hot tear-stained face. Soon she’d be too big to be held like this, and Ruby wanted to remember what it felt like to hold her daughter close.
“Okay,” Ruby said, setting Olivia down. She handed her the bag she’d packed at the apartment. “Get dressed. Then you can look for Mr. Frog.”
Olivia took the bag and started pulling off her clothes then and there to change, her small pale body feeding the flame of Ruby’s promise to protect her.
She would never let anyone hurt her daughter. Never.
“Leave it,” Ruby said to her sister. “Finish getting ready.”
“It’s the whining,” her sister muttered, replacing the sofa cushions.
“Oh, I know,” Ruby said. “Like nails on a chalkboard.”
Brooke straightened and hurried to the apartment’s tiny bathroom.
