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“Every one of them.” My voice shakes with conviction. I’d do it again today if I had the chance.

“Was Vladimir Alexander’s father?”

“No, his grandfather.”

“If you have such an entangled past with the Volkovs, why do you not work for them?”

“When Vladimir asked me to, I refused. I would not give myself to any family. I wanted freedom. So, as long as I vowed to never do anything that would bring harm to the Volkov family, he gave it to me.”

“Even though he helped you?”

“Yes.” I nod. “Vladimir was a very different man than Alexander’s father. When I came here, he tried to make me bend the knee. When I refused, he tried to have me killed.”

“Alexander’s father? And you still work with Alexander?”

I brush my knuckles along her jawline. “Who do you think saved me? Alexander had a strong relationship with hisgrandfather. He didn’t agree with his father, so he refused the order.”

“Who needs soap operas with the mafia running around. I can’t believe you’ve gone through all of this.” She rests her head on my shoulder.

I let her sit in silence as the record continues to play.

“Are you worried about the fire?” She asks when the record stops.

“No. A building can be rebuilt.”

She pushes up from my chest and narrows her eyes on me. “You listen to that record when you’re tense.”

“It reminds me of my mother. It’s an opera, ‘Snow Maiden.’ It’s about a magical girl made of snow who longs for human love. She finds her way into the human world and is granted the ability to feel the warmth of love. But’s she’s a snow maiden, so ends up melting away.”

Her brows pull together in confusion.

“I may not be explaining it correctly. My mother used to listen to it all the time, it was one of the few records she kept from her own childhood. It relaxes me when I’m a little tense.”

“Which is a lot, because you have a stressful lifestyle. If it’s not the fire, then what?”

“Why do you want to know? We’re not a…what did you call us…a thing?”

She rolls her eyes. “That doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I mean, at first, I wanted to scratch your eyes out, but you’ve grown on me. And a lot of what you’re stressed about is probably my fault, anyway, so yeah, I care.”

“You carry a lot of guilt on your shoulders that isn’t yours to carry.”

“If you knew me, you wouldn’t think that,” she says softy, her eyes casting off into the space behind me.

“Tell me, Mira. What would make me change my mind?”

“I’ve had a lot of boyfriends.”

If she thinks that will make me want to discard her, she’s delusional. The idea of any other man touching her puts me in a murderous mood, yes, but I’m not as much of a Neanderthal as she thinks I am. She’s an adult who’s lived an entire life before I arrived. Those men are safe, so long as they didn’t hurt her.

If she carries so much as a single scar from any of them, they will be ashes by sunrise.

“The only thing that matters is I’m your last.”

“No, I mean…” She heaves a heavy sigh, but her burden doesn’t lighten. “I mean, it’s what I do. I meet a guy and he shows a drop of interest, I’m head over heels for him. You saw how many marriages there are between my parents. I don’t want to end up like that.”

“They do seem to love love,” I agree.

Her mother’s fifth and current husband, is sleeping with his secretary. When she finds out, she’ll be jumping ship and looking for husband number six.