Page 4 of Tattooed Vow

“She’s family,brat,” he replies. “And she’s strong. Don’t insult her by thinking she can’t handle this life.”

He saunters off, leaving me with my thoughts. I clench my jaw. He’s right. Sandy is no damsel. She’s fire forged in pain. But it’s not her weakness, I fear. It’s mine.

I shift my attention back to the children, forcing myself to focus. But Sandy’s presence is like static in the air. Every step she takes draws my attention. Every second she looks away, I want her to look back.

“Dimitri,” a voice says behind me, low and thick.

I turn, eyes narrowing.

Igor Kylov.

He’s not on the official list, but he’s done business with Aleksandr. Money laundering, real estate. The kind of man who wears a Rolex like it’s armor and smiles like a snake. I nod, keeping my posture relaxed.

“Kylov,” I say.

He steps closer, adjusting the cuffs of his navy-tailored shirt. “You’re doing well,” he smirks. “Running the show while Aleksandr plays house.”

I say nothing.

He chuckles. “No insult meant. The family man look suits him. But you...you’ve got an edge. Cold eyes. You’d make a strongpakhan.”

My jaw ticks. He doesn’t know how close he is to stepping over a line.

“I serve my brother,” I say evenly. “Always.”

Kylov nods, lips twitching. “Of course. I just want to let you know a shadow’s moving across your empire.”

That gets my attention. I shift slightly to position myself between him and the children.

“What do you know?”

He leans in, voice lower. “Andrei Morozov arrived in New York yesterday.”

My blood stills.

Andrei.

A name I hoped never to hear again.

“I’m surprised you didn’t already know,” Kylov says with a hint of glee. “Word is, he’s come for revenge. For his brother.”

I killed that bastard myself years ago on Aleksandr’s orders. It was a necessary hit. Clean. Final. Or so I thought.

My fingers curl into fists at my sides. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I like my investments safe,” he says smoothly. “And if Morozov gets what he wants, none of this—” he gestures to the glittering display around us— “will survive.”

I give a tight nod. “We’ll handle it.”

He smiles. “I’m sure you will.”

He walks off, leaving a trail of cologne and veiled threats.

I don’t move. Not at first. My pulse is still. My mind races. Calculating. Andrei is a problem we thought was buried. He won't come directly if he's here and looking for revenge. Not yet. He’ll strike where we’re weakest. And right now, that’s the children. That’s Sandy.

I find her again, instinct overriding thought. She’s standing by the dessert table, her hand reaching for a chocolate-coveredstrawberry. Her fingers brush against Maxim’s, and they both laugh. She’s good with him. Gentle and kind.

God help me. I want her.