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Before she can say anything, a waitress returns with a tray of drinks that are miraculously upright. If I’d been forced to carry them through the dance floor, they would have ended up on the sticky floor.
Francia offers me the same pink drink I saw a woman at the bar drinking, but I wave it away. She leaves it in front of me just in case and takes one for herself.
“Is he worth all of this?” she asks. Her voice is almost quiet enough that I don’t hear her. “I don’t mean to pry. “I just mean, you could call off the engagement and be safe, right? Someone is only after you because they don’t want you marrying him. So if you don’t marry him…”
“Then there is still someone out there trying to manipulate him. If it isn’t me, it will be some other woman being attacked. I feel like I owe it to him to help him figure out who the threat is, at least.”
“How noble of you.” She gives me a teasing smile. “He seems to be taking great care of you. I can see why you would stay. I just wanted to make sure this is what you want.”
My heart clenches. Her words hit a spot far too close to home.
Thisiswhat I want.
Not the assassins and masks…but Ivan. Anya. Niles. Yasha.
These people who love in their own unique ways. Who care about and support each other. I’ve never had anything like it before.
“I want it.” I clear the sudden hoarseness from my throat. “He’s worth it. I’ve never felt so…cared for. So safe.”
“That’s nice.” She squeezes my hand once before she pulls her own back. “You have what we all want. Or…what I want, at least.”
Jorden told me she wanted a sugar daddy. Some rich man to lavish expensive gifts on her and take her away from her minimum wage days. Francia’s desires seem to run deeper than that. There’s a shadow looming over her I’ve never noticed before.
“Whatdoyou want?”
“Someone who wants to take care of me.” She shrugs. “My parents were always busy—working all hours of the day and night to scrape by. They did it for me, but they weren’t around. I was alone a lot. Then they sent me to a private school. They were trying to give me the best education they could, but I felt more alone than ever. Growing up rich-adjacent without actually being rich was…lonely.”
I can remember how isolated I felt at some of the parties my stepfather sent me to when I was a teenager. That’s where I learned that you can be lonelier in a crowd of people than you can when you’re all by yourself.
“I can relate to that.”
“I just want tofit,” she says. “I want to find a person who makes me feel like I’ve found my place. It seems like you’ve found that. I’m really happy for you.”
It’s strange to feel like we’re bonding while, at the same time, Francia doesn’t understand a single thing about what I’m going through right now.
Idofeel like I’ve found my fit. It’s like Ivan and I are matching puzzle pieces. The trouble is…we’re in the wrong puzzle box. We go together, but nothing around us makes any sense.
I’m not sure it ever will.
Tears well in my eyes. I blink them back hurriedly, hoping Francia won’t notice.
“And in celebration of that fit…” Francia grabs one of the other drinks she ordered and holds it up to me. “A toast! For you and Ivan!”
I grab my water bottle, raise it in the air, and smile meekly. “To me and Ivan.”
64
IVAN
I told Rooster the moment I walked into the back room that I was here strictly on business. But the burly bastard won’t hear of it.
“You’re getting married!” He throws his arms wide like he wants to hug the world. “We need to celebrate. Legs, crack open the champagne!”
“Already done.” A tall, skeletally thin woman—the exact opposite of Rooster in every way—walks into the room with three glasses of champagne held deftly between her fingers. “When you called, I put the bottle on ice. I knew this old softy would want to toast you.”
Rooster looks affectionately at his wife and then grins at me. “There is nothing wrong with loving love. People deserve to be happy. Even rotten bastards like us.” He elbows me in the side and hands me a glass. “Take this and drink to your good fortune. I saw your little lady out there. She’s a beaut.”
I glance at Legs, but there’s no sign of jealousy on her face. She nods in agreement. “She’s a little short for a dancer, but I’d be willing to make an exception. We’ll slap some platform heels on her and she’ll be the star of the show.”
