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CHAPTER44

Ayana

When I was stressed, I knitted.

Since last Friday, I’d completed a pair of mittens, a hat, and half a blanket, which was an extraordinary number of items considering I was still a novice and it’d only been a week.

The lawsuit had officially dropped on Monday, and the past few days had been a whirlwind of calls, meetings, and brainstorm sessions with Sloane and Vuk’s lawyers (now my lawyers). The industry’s whisper network was ablaze, and while the news wasn’t big enough to hit the mainstream yet, the fashion gossip blogs were salivating for details. At Sloane’s urging, I’d deleted my social media apps off my phone and stayed off the Internet.

Everyone was waiting with bated breath to see what would happen. The lawyers’ consensus was that the charges were bullshit, but we all knew that. Emmanuelle simply wanted to seed doubt in people’s minds and make my name synonymous with scandal and unprofessionalism, even if it wasn’t true. Sloane agreed and was on top of it.

I trusted her. Nevertheless, I needed a distraction, so I knitted and convinced Vuk to give me a second shooting lesson. Apparently, picturing Emmanuelle did wonders for my aim, because I’d pretended the target was her and hit it right in the face. It’d been deeply satisfying.

My most anticipated distraction, however, was tonight. It was the night that was supposed to officially make up for Vuk leaving me in D.C., and I could hardly contain my curiosity.

Do you ever wear anything except heels?Vuk asked as Sean whisked us uptown in an armored SUV. I thought the armored car was overkill, but I wasn’t a security expert.

He hadn’t mentioned the Brotherhood since the wedding attack, and I was increasingly convinced he’d left D.C. to deal with them without telling me. But he was here and he was alive, so that was a good thing, right?

“Rarely. Are you complaining?” I crossed my legs, purposely showing off their curves. I suppressed a smile when Vuk’s gaze heated.

He’d told me to dress casually, which Ihad. A cashmere sweater and tailored pants were casual. I’d even selected my oldest pair of pointy-toed pumps instead of something from next season.

Not complaining. Merely questioning your definition of the word “casual.”

“My definition is perfectly valid, and if you’re going to question my fashion choices, have the balls to do so out loud,” I said.

Vuk’s eyes crinkled at the corners. His rich laughter warmed my stomach, and I saw Sean gape at us in the rearview mirror before he caught himself. He faced forward again, but I thought I saw his mouth curve before he did.

Vuk had tried to explain his role to me once, but it went over my head. Sean was Vuk’s security chief, but he was also a bodyguard and a driver? I thought a former Special Ops soldier would have better things to do than ferry us around on a date night, but maybe not.

Ten minutes later, we pulled up to a plain red brick building on a quiet street. I squinted at the gleam of silver letters over the entrance.

“The Greenberg Senior Citizen Center?” I frowned. Why would Vuk take me to…oh my God. The pieces clicked, and my eyes flew to his face. “You didn’t. Are you serious?”

He shrugged. The spark of boyish mischief in his eyes made me grin almost as much as his laugh.

Sean told us he’d wait for us outside, and we entered the center to a delighted greeting.

“Vuk!” The plump, pleasant-faced woman behind the reception desk beamed when she saw us. “It’s good to see you again. It’s been too long. And you brought a girl! It’s about time. Aren’t you just beautiful, dear? Well, don’t let me keep you. Go on ahead. It’s about to start.”

The other staff members we passed on our way to wherever Vuk was taking me greeted him with equally warm hellos.

Eventually, we stopped at a pair of blue double doors. He opened them, and we entered what appeared to be a community room. Round tables dotted the space. Residents occupied most of the chairs, colorful plastic chips in hand. Several squinted at sheets of paper in front of them. At the front of the room, a dark-haired woman with a microphone stood next to a professional bingo ball dispenser.

It was bingo night at the senior center, and Vuk had finally answered my question about whether or not he was joking about his love for the game.

My chest felt like it would burst.

We took a seat at an empty table in the back. Several residents waved to Vuk, and a male nurse in scrubs handed us our chips and bingo cards.

“I can’t believe it.” I tried to wrap my head around this confirmed new side of Vuk, the bingo lover. It was like finding out the governor of New York spent his free time playing with Barbies, or a mob boss had a side gig performing clown tricks at children’s birthday parties. “You need to give me the backstory on this. When did you start coming here? How?—”

Shh. Later.He studied his bingo card, his brow furrowed in concentration.The game’s about to start.

My mouth snapped shut.

Over the course of the next hour, two things became clear: 1) Vuk Markovic wasreallyinto the game. Like, he refused to talk at all while it was happening, and 2) he was competitive as hell. It was a game of chance, but I was convinced he’d wrestle Lady Luck to the ground for victory’s sake if he could.