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“I do.” I raise my hand “Luka said you’re going to move here?” Apparently, Nik has a habit of living in the warehouses, and I was shocked to hear he doesn’t love the city for someone so extroverted.
“Yeah. Most of our newer shipments will be housed here. We already have twenty-four-seven security, but it beats having to travel here.” He looks to Luka and so much passes between them, all things unsaid. They are each two sides of the same Bratva coin, different in almost every way, but they’d die for each other—that much is clear.
“It doesn’t bother me either way Nikolai, as long as you get into the city when you need to,” Luka says.
We tour the upstairs apartment, which rivals Luka’s in size, without the views. Multiple windows are stacked to view the large warehouse area, an open-concept living room, and kitchen space are all within view from the door. Everything is sleek metal grays and concrete pillars, but it’s surprisingly warm and inviting.
“I love it. You have to have someone come in and design the space. I think this will be amazing. I’d come visit,” I say. The fact that this conversation is normal is disturbing. Add to the fact that Nik is going to be sleeping on a stockpile of weapons—but the way his eyes are lit as he gazes around the room—this is perfect for him.
* * *
Luka reaches acrossand grabs my hand. “I have one more stop for us.” We left the warehouse twenty minutes ago and are headed back into the city.
He doesn’t expound on that, and I don’t question it.That’s new.Words that I used to equate with Luka Morozov—fear, monster, and jerk have changed to new ones—safety, loyalty, and family. That is what I see with him. Flutters erupt in my belly, and I know I’m in deep.
We pull to the curb in a small upscale shopping area and with a kiss to my hand, Luka lets go to get out. I scramble out after him, curious about where we are and why. He gives Ivan a nod, and we make our way toward a narrow back alley. It’s hard to see much with the two massive buildings on either side, and only dimly lit by some surrounding businesses. The brickwork that lines the alley is weathered, and as we move through, the rush of the city is replaced by a soothing quiet. A wooden bench sits outside a steel door that Luka approaches with a raised fist. He pounds on the door twice.
A gust of cool November air rustles my hair and I pull my coat tighter, appreciative that I decided on dress pants for the office today.
“You know, this is sketchy Luka,” I joke, but I’m sure the undercurrent of unease is apparent. Luka shoots me a look like I’m insane as the steel door groans open. A small, curvy woman answers the door. She is wearing large glasses that have slipped down her nose and her gray hair pulled back in a lower bun.
“Da.Mr. Morozov …” That is all I catch because she is exclusively speaking Russian and I have no idea what she is saying. She ushers us in, and we head down a thin hallway and through another door frame. My eyes widen when I see where we are.
A large showroom with some of the most beautiful gowns I’ve ever seen reveals itself. The luxury and elegance in this room is not what I was expecting from a back alley in the city. The gowns are exquisite, some more opulent, and others a contemporary chic. The walls are a soft cream, and it offers the perfect background for all the colorful gowns. A crystal chandelier hangs from the middle of the room casting light on the delicate fabrics and intricate beadwork of some dresses. There is a private dressing room that the woman is gesturing at, as she and Luka continue to exchange words. Plush seating surrounds the dressing area and Luka takes a seat.
“Vera will take care of you, Kate.” Once again, his words leave me full of questions.
“For what?” I ask.
“Senator Hope is having a private event the night of the election. Assuming he keeps his seat, we will be celebrating.” A thin smirk breaks his deep, stoic voice but I don’t miss the tense jaw he is grinding together. “You can pick whatever you’d wish. Vera will tailor and deliver it for you to wear.” He sits back and pulls out his phone, leaving me with Vera and a room full of dresses I’m not even sure I deserve to wear.
* * *
“Nyet!”Vera barks at me, then swats my hand away from a simple black gown with a plunging neckline. I thought it was beautiful, but apparently,shedoes not. She mumbles something in Russian and I shake my head, shrugging my shoulders. She grips my hand and pulls me to another wall with an array of different blues, and points.Does she want me in blue?I filter through the stunning dresses. I’ve never been in gowns like these. I’ve never even been around gowns like this until now. I went to prom my senior year of high school with a couple of girlfriends and the dress I wore would probably be considered a cocktail dress at this point.
A sapphire gown catches my eye and when I move to see the whole thing, I practically giggle. This is breathtaking. The deep blue mimics the night sky and sparkles like a million stars. I pinch the fabric between my fingers and the inside is butter soft silk. The silver and blue beads catch the light and shimmer with every movement. I glance back at Vera and she is smiling at me with a nod. Apparently, I didsomethingright.
She grabs the dress and says something that sounds like follow. We head back to the private changing area which is outfitted with full-length mirrors and lace curtains. I expect Vera to leave me to put on the gown, and then I’d call her back in, but she stands there speaking more words to me. When I don’t move, she takes me by the shoulders and turns me around toward the dress and points, then points at my clothes. I hold up my hands as she reaches for my shirt.
“I got it, I got it. Thanks.”
I make quick work disrobing down to my bra and underwear, although as I look at this dress, I’m not sure this is a bra-friendly dress. Vera grabs the dress and opens it for me to step in, gliding the silky satin up. I rope my arms through both straps and turn toward the mirror.
It’s stunning.
The gown is form-fitting and helps accentuates my minor curves. Thin straps frame my shoulders and drop into a plunging neckline. Yep—this is going to be a bra free dress. Before she does up the back, I remove my bra and I love the way the neckline plunges to my chest. My favorite part though, is the daring slit at the bottom that ascends to my mid-thigh. It’s sensual and alluring. The thought of Luka seeing me in this brings a giddiness to my chest and when I look in the mirror, I’m beaming.
Vera has me walk a few directions as she studies the flow of the dress. The fabric comes alive as I move, all the beadwork reflecting the color of the dress. She takes more measurements, more than I even knew were possible, and before I know it, I’m sliding the gown off sad to see it go. Vera gives me a smile gesturing her thumbs up. We both laugh and she bustles out with the dress, leaving me to get dressed.
* * *
We arrive backto the penthouse around dinner time, Ilena hard at work, the whole place smelling divine. My stomach rumbles, and I follow the wafting smell through to the stove. A vegetable beef stew simmers and I can hardly wait for a bowl. I busy myself by getting changed into some yoga pants and a large sweater, heading up to the terrace to give my mom a call. I’ve been calling every Tuesday after her therapy sessions to see how she is doing.
The terrace fire pit is already lit, and I snag a seat, dragging it closer to the warmth.
“Hey, Mom,” I say when she answers on the first ring, probably expecting my call.
“Hi honey. How are you doing?” She sounds good, upbeat and I let out a sigh of relief.
