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“Yes.” We kiss again, and my heart flutters in my chest as she presses her body close to me.
But the moment doesn’t last as Eden pulls away. She stares at the table, and a shadow passes over her face.
“I know I shouldn’t ask,” she says. “But is Zakhar still alive?”
I nod. “He is, but I can’t find him.”
Eden sighs and looks past me out the window. I follow her gaze and watch the pedestrians filling the sidewalk on the street below. Some walk with purpose, and others merely amble with one foot in front of the other. Zakhar is out there somewhere.
I don’t push the topic, and I hope Eden understands that her father is still a threat to us. I don’t tell her that another bomb went off at a warehouse in Port Newark, killing five men. Or that the Lanzzare are closing in around one legitimate business after another, killing one middleman after another, each act guided by knowledge that only Zakhar has.
“Should we work on the guest list?” I ask, changing the subject, but instead of happiness, Eden looks doubtful.
“Would you be upset if I asked my cousin Mercy to be my maid of honor?” she asks slowly.
“The one I met at the bar?” I ask.
Eden’s face blanks as if she’s staring at a ghost. “How long have you known?” she asks.
I smirk. “You both have the same red hair, and she didn’t try hard to conceal who she was. I know she recognized me too. Especially if she’s a Lanzzare.”
“She may be a Lanzzare,” Eden says. “But she’s not like my father. I promise. I know it’s asking a lot, and I doubt she’ll even come. But …” Her voice trails off.
I sigh, and my common sense vanishes as Eden stares at me eagerly. A Lanzzare at a Starukhin wedding. The idea is laughable.
“We have to take strict precautions,” I reply. “You know she’ll be surrounded by people that hate her?”
“They hate me already,” she asks quietly. “Because of Zakhar.”
“But it only matters thatIlove you, Eden.”
Her eyes are wider than her smile. Eden hugs me tight, and her voice shakes. “I love you too.” Her voice echoes through the gallery, and she covers her mouth with her hand, staring at me before bursting into giggles.
I kiss her again, thankful that her sweetness will never really go away.
She shrugs her shoulders playfully. “Who knows, maybe this wedding will be the beginning of a truce.”
I frown. “One wedding guest isn’t much of a truce.”
“Then our baby will be the beginning,” she replies defiantly. “I’m a Lanzzare through my mother and a Starukhin because of you. If we can get along, so can they. We’ll show them, Nikolai.”
I pause, considering her words. The thought of starting a different life and ending the cycle of bloodshed and pain is alluring and terrifying. But I can’t envision a world where I’m free from the Bratva’s expectations and rules, free from seeking out vengeance upon the one enemy that I’ve known my entire life, and free to be the man I was.
That life can exist only in dreams.
5
EDEN
I wander freelythrough the massive mansion, picturing a future life here. It’s already late September, and I’ve been gone for more than three months. Thoughts of going home no longer haunt me, and the bitterness I felt toward Nikolai for ruining my big plans in the Big Apple has vanished.
But the anxiety has not completely gone away.
I slip my phone out of the pocket of my denim skirt and look at the blank screen, regretting the horrible mistake I made. My fingertip runs over the smooth surface, and the lock screen lights up.
Should I try to reach out to Zakhar? Why isn’t he reaching out to me?
Doesn’t he care that he shot me?
