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My phone buzzed and I handed the microphone to the stage manager. “Thank you all, once again.”
I got off the stage and peeked at my phone to see the notification. Well, notifications. Adorable reactions poured in from everywhere, across the country.Heartwas loved and appreciated; and that made me happy. I was able to sharemy love story, maybe not with words—because who would understand—but with pictures.
Two text messages sat unread in my inbox. I opened the first one. It was from Christy, wishing me the best with my gallery and hearty congratulations. She had open a new branch outside the state shortly after what happened with the Camorra. She left, saying she needed some time to process everything. I understood, and we kept in touch.
She even got gifts for Sasha’s first birthday.
The second text was from... a private number. And the message wasn’t creepy at all. Just some stranger asking me to step outside the auction arena so we could talk. I tucked my phone in my purse and raised my head.
I should have called Vald, but they were away for important business and I had to wait to see him in the evening. I squared my chin, lifted my shoulder, and cat-walked gracefully out of the arena and into the brightly lit hallway, my designer trench coat flapping against my legs with each stride.
The hallway had a trickle of guests compared to the sea of them in the arena.
“Here.”
I spun on my heels, pressing my nails into the leather of my purse. A hand flew to my chest and I glared at the stranger dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans with a baseball cap overherhead.
“What do you want?” I didn’t have time to waste. If thiswomanposed a threat, the sooner I knew, the sooner I buzzed Maxim.
He hadn’t gone with his brothers, he needed to stay back and overlook the businesses here just in case something happened.
She kept her head down, avoiding eye contact when she handed me a translucent card. “You could be the key to dismantling the Outfit.”
The Outfit? That was the very organization the Bratva had fought to control.
I stared at the card, long and hard, before snatching it from her hand. “Me? The key?”
“The card has more details. If you’re interested, call me. I’ll tell you everything you need to know. Don’t tell Maxim I came here.”
I raised my brows. “You know Maxim? Why can’t I…”
“Please. I’m leaving Chicago so you have to call me by tonight. Promise me.”
I’d learned from Vlad not to make empty promises and to be honest, I wasn’t certain if I would call her or not, but she seemed desperate and this could be a key to help my family so I couldn’t refuse. “I’ll call you.”
“Thank you,” she said with a sad smile, then she left.
Later that evening, I sat Sasha by the small vanity in her bedroom, brushing her hair.
She didn’t take after my blonde hair, she had Vlad’s dark, silky hair and I was jealous. Nine months and four hours in labor only for her to come out looking like him.
A small smile crawled up my lips and she giggled and writhed as I combed her hair. My little bundle of joy was almostthree years old now, and I was grateful every day that I had her. She was the product of the love Vlad and I had for each other.
She was ours, just as much as we belonged to each other. Our family, though small and intimate, had a powerful bond I was certain no one could come between, and that was one reason I had to tell him about the strange lady who paid me a visit in the gallery.
Sasha fell asleep in her arms and I carried her up to her room and watched her sleep. I heard the door to the foyer open and my heart jumped, a smile breaking on my face.
Vlad is home.
I ran downstairs and jumped on my husband, wrapping my legs around him and peppering him with kisses.
He snaked his arm around my waist, kissing my neck and my lips. “I missed you,” I cooed, burying my face in the crook of his neck and inhaling him.
“I missed you too,moya zvezda.”
He went upstairs and took a shower while I heated up something the cook made for him to eat.
After he took his bath, he joined me in the kitchen, his long-wet hair draping water to the tattoo on his chest.
