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“How do I know if Macy is my Vivian?”
Nikolai made a throaty sound of amusement. “I think you already know the answer to that, Danny.” He held out the heavy basket of produce. “Take this. Come inside. I’ll make lunch, and we’ll talk.”
“About flowers and romance?” He carefully adjusted a fat, bright purple eggplant that had started to roll away from the zucchini and crookneck squash and tomatoes.
“About your future.” Nikolai patted his shoulder. “I think it’s time you fly from the nest.”
“Leave Houston?” Danny’s stomach dropped. “But—why? Where?”
“Why?” Nikolai held his gaze in a way that would have made him squirm in his younger years. “Because you’ve proven yourself again and again. You’ve made mistakes, but they came from a good place.” He tapped Danny’s chest. “You want to help people. You’re honest and loyal. I trust you with Vee and our baby. Without hesitation.”
Danny understood what a serious compliment that was. He wasn’t sure how to respond. Thank you didn’t seem to cut it.
“Come on.” Nikolai stepped away, pruning shears in hand, and walked toward the house. “We have lots to discuss.”
Since joining the organization as a teenager and getting his first tattoo, Danny had dreamed about climbing the ranks and someday heading his own outfit. He was closer to that goal than he had ever been, but it no longer sparked excitement. No, he felt only dread as he followed Nikolai into his grand manor.
He finally had a chance to claim what he had worked so hard to earn, but all he wanted was to stay here, close to Macy.
And that’s when it hit him.
Nikolai was right. He did know the answer to that question.
Macy was his Vivian. She washis.She was the girl he was going to marry someday. He wanted to build a life with her, wanted to have a family and give her everything she wanted and deserved.
But how? How could he and Macy grow together as a couple if the whole fucking world seemed intent on tearing them apart? She was going to college and med school. He was going wherever Nikolai sent him, and it was sure to be far away from Texas.
Suddenly, things seemed impossibly complicated. There were no easy answers, and he finally understood what Artyom must have been feeling all these years. Torn between his loyalty to the family, his promise to safeguard all those dirty secrets, and his secret love for Chess. It must have been absolute hell.
And now he was in for the bitter taste of it.
Chapter Thirteen
When the phone rang, I ignored it. Still in bed, I rolled away from the sound and squished my pillow over my ear, drowning out the noise. It was probably Danny, and I wasn’t ready to talk to him. It was immature to dodge his calls and texts and leave him on read, but I didn’t care.
I’m nineteen. I’m supposed to be immature.
Okay. So. Maybe that wasn’t the healthiest way to behaving in a relationship. Maybe I should have given him a chance to apologize and make things right the first time he called and messaged me.
But I didn’t, and now, here we were.
The ringing stopped, but it was followed by a stream of message alerts. Bing. Bing. Bing. Bing. Bing.
“Seriously!” I tossed aside my pillow before lunging across the bed to grab my phone from the bedside table. I glanced at the screen.Oh.
It wasn’t Danny. It was Van.
“Are you still in bed?” Van greeted incredulously. “It’s, like, two in the afternoon there!”
“I worked all night and got home right before the sun came up,” I defensively replied. On my screen, Van looked like she had been dancing. Glittery gold club dress. Slightly smudged eyeliner. Faded lipstick. A glossy gleam in her eye that made me think she’d been drinking.
“You have got to get a better job,” Van insisted. “Something that pays more for less hours.”
I snorted. “The only jobs that pay well for part-time hours on a high school diploma are stripping and escorting. My boobs are way too small for the first, and I don’t have enough experience for the second.”
“You forgot one option.”
“Yeah? What?”
