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She laughed and her eyes twinkled. “You don’t know, do you?”
Know what? It wasn’t like we’d had a chat lately.
“Am I missing something?”
“Rumor has it that Rafail and his wife are the new powerful couple in the Bratva, after killing a family member. And, well …”
“How do you know all this?”
She plucked a piece of lint from her dress and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m in New York permanently, Juliana.”
I gasped. Eyes wide, jaw dropped. “What?”
She sighed and fiddled with her fingers. “It was my dad’s decision. He said Denver wasn’t for me and asked—more like, ordered, me to join him here in New York. And that’s why I’m here.”
“So, you’re in this now?” She knew what I was referring to. This life, the one with the darkness and the violence. She nodded and my heart sank. I’d heard rumors that Cian O’Sullivan had moved into town and was causing trouble with the Bratva. It made sense: if he was here, he'd want his daughter to be with him. And if she was with him, then she was on the enemy's side.
“Forever.” Her teeth bared in a wide grin.
I felt a tingling sensation on my skin, but it wasn’t familiar. Not like when I had Rafa’s eyes on me. I lifted my head, quick enough to catch Viktor’s gaze on ... Ava?
I smiled.
“He’s staring.”
“Who?” She turned, but he was faster. He looked away like nothing had happened, keeping a poker face.
“Your admirer,” I teased with a playful laugh.
As expected, she snorted with an eye roll. “As if. Absolutely not, Juliana. There’s no way that will ever happen.”
“But he has his eyes on you.”
Something flashed in her eyes when she said, “he has a reputation. With the women.”
“Oh.”
“And let’s assume he doesn’t.” She fired back. “He's on the enemy’s team.”
And so are we. But I didn’t add that part.
But it didn’t matter what Ava said, I could feel the tiny flickering flames and sparks between them. The only problem was that there was a rivalry between Rafail and Cian. A rivalry that went all the way back to the roots of the Bratva and the Irish mafia.
She was right: whatever could have happened between them was already impossible.
We spent more time together, talking, catching up for as long as we could until a dreary man with a skull tattoo on his bald head walked up to her and whispered in her ear.
Her arms went around me and locked me in a tight embrace.
“I have to go now, Julie.” She retreated. “I hope this won’t be the last time I’ll see you.”
I mirrored the wistful smile on her lips. “I hope so too.”
She wiggled her fingers and said goodbye, and I lifted my cell phone to look at the screen. A new thrill flooded my veins and my heart leaped in anticipation.
I had five minutes to get to the backstage area.
I hurried, my stilettos clattering on the shiny tiled floor as I walked, not entirely inconspicuously, around the corners to our secret meeting place.
