Page 34 of Mafia and Scars

I roll over carefully, not wanting to wake Leon, and check the time on my phone. Six in the morning. Through the gap in the drapes, I can see the dawn creeping into the sky. I look around at the room. It’slarge and organized. The sheets and blankets are warm and soft, like the kind that indicates real thought went into it. Not something I’d think the man capable of.

A soft thud from downstairs tells me someone’s home. Viktor, probably. I wonder exactly what kind of work keeps him out all night. I slip out of bed and pad to the window, looking down below. Viktor’s there, his broad shoulders tense as he speaks quietly into his phone. Even from here, I can see the weariness in his posture, the way he drags his free hand through his dark hair.

He looks up suddenly, as if sensing my gaze, and our eyes meet through the glass. Something passes between us—a recognition that makes my breath catch. Then he looks away, ending his call with a sharp gesture.

I need to leave. We need to get back to our real life, away from this compound with its armed guards and dangerous men. Away from Viktor and the way he makes me feel things I swore I wouldn’t feel again.

I get the children dressed and ready. Sofia stares longingly at the cat from where she lays. She did it all night too, fascinated with the cat. I smile over at her as Leon tugs on the end of my low ponytail. “Got everything, Sofia?”

Sofia nods, her chin bobbing against her arm as she continues to stare at the cat who lounges on the chair, stretching out her fluffy paws and giving a yawn despite having just woken up. Our routine has been so messed up over the last few weeks, and Sofia has been a trooper, but I’ll be glad to get her back to her normal schedule.

Viktor appears in the doorway with coffee and what looks like breakfast sandwiches wrapped in paper.

“For the road,” he says simply, setting them on the dresser.

“You didn’t have to?—”

“I know.” His intense blue eyes meet mine briefly before skittering away. “You’re leaving.”

It’s not a question, but I nod anyway. “We should get back. I need to start looking for work, and Sofia needs routine.”

Something flickers across his face—disappointment, perhaps? But it’s gone so quickly I might have just imagined it.

He helps me carry our bags downstairs, his movements efficient and careful. When he reaches for Leon’s car seat, I notice he’s wearing gloves.

“My hands feel cold in the morning,” he explains when he catches me looking.

But I suspect it’s more than that. I’ve noticed how he avoids touch, how he flinched when I put my hand on his arm yesterday.

At my car, Viktor loads everything with military precision while I buckle Leon into his seat. Sofia stands beside me, watching Viktor with that serious expression she gets when she’s processing something new.

When everything’s loaded, Sofia steps forward. “It was nice to meet you, Viktor. Thank you for your hospitality.” My lips quirk as I melt just a little. It’s her way of trying to act normal and natural. Of being like everyone else, and my heart does a little flip at her effort.

“It was nice meeting you too, Sofia. You’re a very smart girl.”

Sofia beams at the compliment, and my heart does something funny in my chest.

“Thank you again for watching Leon for as long as you did,” I say quietly.

He nods in reply.

I’m about to get into the driver’s seat when he stops me. “Wait.” He pulls a business card from his wallet, turns it over, and scribbles something on the back. “Call me if you ever need anything.”

I take the card. “Thank you.”

He shakes his head suddenly, reaching for the card. “Actually, never mind. People only call me when they need weapons or drugs. Why would you ever?—”

I tighten my grip on the card, pulling it away from his reach. “I’ll keep it.”

His eyebrows rise in surprise.

Before I can second-guess myself, I rise up on my tiptoes and pressa quick kiss to his cheek. His skin is warm beneath my lips, and he smells like soap and…something uniquely him.

When I pull back, his eyes are wide, one hand lifted halfway to his cheek. He’s stunned, but maybe not in a bad way.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “For everything.”

And I slide into the driver’s seat before I can do something even more foolish.