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“Damn, girl, he must really be serious about making a baby.” Yulian and Rowan definitely need a few weeks of no distractions, no work emergencies, nothing but lube and an ocean view.
She snorts. “He is. Anyhow, I just wanted to say goodbye before we sign off. Is everything good with you?”
I conceal my sigh as I round the corner of my block. “Yeah, everything is great.” This is not the time to share my latest breakup sob story. It just gets Rowan all worked up.
Turns out I’m a great catch on paper, but that’s where it ends. God knows Marcel is just the last guy in a long list of bailers. Not that any of them mattered—none except for Leo. My brother’s best friend and one of the only people who truly knew me, the real me. But even that wasn’t enough apparently.
“Well, I won’t keep you. Have an amazing time. Relax. And don’t worry about a thing,” I say, digging in my purse for my keys. “Just enjoy and make me a little niece or nephew.”
“On it!” she squeals.
I smile to myself as I push the key into my front door. In nine months there could be a baby. A baby I’ll love like my own. Maybe there is something to look forward to.
* * *
Once inside,I go to disengage the alarm, but there’s no red light flashing on the wall. Shit, I must have forgotten to turn it on this morning. It’s something that happens more regularly than not.
Truthfully, I never wanted this damn alarm system in the first place. Yulian had this place wired like Fort Knox one day while I was at work, that stubbornmudak. No prior discussion, no warning. I came home, and there it was, a brand-new alarm system with the code sent to me through an encrypted server.
It’s just another example of my brother’s over-the-top protective tendencies. Shortly after I bought this flat with my inheritance money, he purchased the other three units in the building to prevent anyone else from moving in. Multimillion dollar units just sitting empty. It’s insane, really.
Not that Yulian and I ever talk about it. Nah. I let him do what he needs to for his peace of mind with me living halfway across the world.
On one hand, I get it. Being eight years older, Yulian has always looked out for me, and before Rowan, we were each other’s only family, having lost our father when we were teens, and our mother in our twenties. But his worry is misplaced. The most dangerous thing that’s happened to me in months is tripping over a wayward cobblestone in my stilettos.
Exhausted, I kick off my heels and make my way to the kitchen. The familiar creaks of the wooden floorboards underfoot are comforting. Everything in Paris is old. Worn. It has history, something else I adore about this city.
My only goal tonight is a cup of tea, pajamas, and trashy reality TV. Maybe I’ll treat myself to a bubble bath. I pour water into the kettle, and turn it on, leaning against the counter. That’s when the door to my bedroom catches my attention. It’s open an inch. Barely anything noticeable, but I always shut my bedroom door. It was part of Leo’s training, a security measure he said.
The hairs on the back of my neck rise. Something feels off.
The shrill whistle of the kettle only adds to my growing anxiety. I make my way to the kitchen drawer, searching for a weapon. You don’t grow up in a bratva household without learning self-defense. My hand wraps around a small paring knife. Pausing, I also reach for a compact pocketknife that I keep in my junk drawer beside the fridge. Just in case, I tuck it into the waistband of my skirt.
Creeping towards my bedroom, I push the door open and turn on the light, ready to face an intruder. But there’s no one here. No open window, no furniture out of place, not even a stirring of the air. Releasing a sigh of relief, I chuckle to myself, feeling foolish for letting my imagination run wild. I blame Marcel. That asshole threw me off my game.
Switching off the light, I’m about to head back towards the kitchen when a gloved hand materializes out of the dark, covering my mouth as a large body pins me against the wall from behind. A chill of terror sends my pulse into overdrive.
“Don’t make a sound,” an accented male voice murmurs in my ear. His arm is cinched tightly around my chest, making it difficult to breathe. “I won’t hurt you if you make this easy. I just need you to come with me.”
Despite the terror, I resist the urge to scream. It would be a waste of energy when I need to focus on fighting back. And although my hand is still gripping the paring knife, I don’t need a blade for my opening move. In one swift motion, I shift my weight and push my free hand against the wall. Slamming my elbow back into his stomach, he grunts loudly, and I attempt to wriggle from his hold, but he recovers quickly, wrapping one arm around my neck to keep me in place. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, your choice.”
“The hard way,” I choke out before plunging the knife back. I can’t see what I’m aiming for, but I know I’ve hit my target when the knife sinks into the soft flesh of his thigh, and he loses his grip, grunting in pain.
I spin on my opponent, finally getting a good look at him. Well, sort of. He’s wearing a ski mask—a balaclava—and his mouth is puckered into a tight knot, his dark eyes narrowed into a scowl. He’s wearing all black, so I can’t see the blood I imagine is seeping out of his wounded leg.
With a menacing growl, the intruder reaches into the back waistband of his jeans. The clicking of his pistol resounds through the room, sending a chilling jolt down my spine.
“Put down the knife and walk towards the door,” he orders.
Adrenaline surges through my blood, but I’m not the type to take orders from a brute like him. Unless it’s in bed. “Fuck off.”
“My orders are to take you in alive, but that leaves a lot of room for interpretation, don’t you think?”
His orders? What? This isn’t a petty robbery or random attack. I’ve been targeted. “What are you talking about? Who wants me?”
“If you think I know or care, you’re stupider than you look. Now fucking move already.”
“Okay, okay.” I toss the knife aside and raise my hands in the air. He’s angry and armed; I’ll have a better chance of escape if I convince him that I won’t fight anymore. “I’ll go with you. Just please don’t hurt me.”
