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I pause, staring at the scissors in my hand. “Where does Adrian go during the day?”
I hate to admit that I miss him and his words, no matter how few they are. Since the day at the hospital, he’s been the one person who can get me out of my head.
It’s a strange change of dynamics. Before, the only time Adrian and I could get along was when he was fucking me or sexually punishing me. But during these past couple of weeks, his touch has never gone in that direction. He’s only held me, made sure I ate, and helped me shower and change clothes. He sat with me underneath my wool blanket as I watched a mindless movie and then maneuvered my head on his lap so that I was more comfortable. His fingers stroked my hair back in a way that made me nearly purr like a kitten.
I’ve been feeding off that care like a starved animal who’s never had affection.
“He works,” Yan says.
“I know that, genius. Where? With whom?”
“He mostly works at home with Kolya.”
I pause at that information. Aside from the first restaurant date, Adrian and I only ever meet here, so I never considered the notion that he has a separate home.
“He doesn’t go to do mafia things?”
Yan smiles at that. “He does those mafia things at home. He doesn’t go out unless absolutely necessary.”
For some reason, that makes me feel more at ease. At least he’s not in danger of being shot in the streets like all those mob bosses I read about.
And yes, I might have searched about the mafia’s history in New York. But the articles are filled with stuff about the Italian mafia and their hits. There’s little to no information about the Bratva. I’m not surprised, though. Taking Adrian’s secretive nature into account, I assume the rest of his organization is similar to him.
But I still haven’t been able to get those images of assassinated mob people out of my head, and I recently started having nightmares about Adrian suffering from something similar.
Wait. Does that mean I’m worried about him?
“Miss.”
I stare up at Yan. “Yeah?”
“Let me help you up.”
“I can get up on my own.” I get on my good knee, pull my crutch over, and lean all my weight on it to stand. Yan’s body is turned toward me, ready to catch me if I fall, but I manage to stay upright, keeping my cast off the ground.
“What about…her?” I whisper.
He raises a brow. “Her?”
“Kristina Petrov.” I haven’t talked to Adrian about his engagement since that night in the hospital, and part of the reason is because I wanted to live in this peace for a while. To not think about the fact that I took another woman’s fiancé.
“I believe he ended it.”
“Youbelieve? As in, you’re not sure?”
“It’s better if you ask him about it.”
“Tell me, Yan. What’s going on?”
He runs a hand through his long hair. “You didn’t hear it from me.”
“Cross my heart.”
He smiles again, and I’m struck by how pretty he really is. If he hadn’t chosen the mafia life, he would’ve been a perfect model.
“So?” I urge.
“Remember when I told you Boss is expected to marry Kristina?”
