Page 145 of Ruthless Creatures

A lost, lonely queen, pining for her besotted lion.

Twice when I go outside to leave for work or take out the garbage, I see footprints in the snow around the house. I can tell by the size they’re a man’s. I know who they belong to.

But I won’t tell Kage that Chris is still sniffing around, because I know what will happen, and I don’t want blood on my hands.

A thousand years later, my birthday arrives.

It’s a Saturday. I’m up early, brimming with excitement. Kage’s text from last night said onlySee you soon,so I’m not sure what time he’ll be arriving. I want to be ready whenever he gets here, though, so I shower and shave all my parts, get dressed, tidy up the house, put fresh sheets on the bed, then wait.

And wait.

And wait.

By eight o’clock that night, I’m wilted.

I stand in front of the mirror in my bedroom, staring dejectedly at my reflection. I’m wearing the red sheath dress Kage admired that evening at Michael’s restaurant months ago, along with the necklace he sent me for Valentine’s Day. My hair’s up, my makeup’s perfect, and my face looks like someone just told me the dog died.

I know it’s not fair to be disappointed that he isn’t here yet. He usually comes very late. Plus, there’s a five-hour flight time to consider, along with the war he’s dealing with and everything that goes along with running a mafia empire. He’s got a lot on his to-do list.

I just wish I were a little closer to the top.

Sitting alone at the kitchen table, I pick at the cold filet mignon I made earlier, trying hard not to feel sorry for myself.

It’s a losing battle.

When the house phone rings, it startles me so much I drop my fork. It hits the plate with a clatter. My heart beating faster, I jump up to answer it, hoping it’s Kage.

“Hello?”

A pre-recorded electronic voice says, “Hello, you have a collect call from Green Haven Correctional Facility. To accept the charges, press two. To decline the charges, press nine.”

My heart stops dead in my chest.

Kage has been arrested. He’s in prison.

Hands shaking, I press the number two.

The electronic voice says, “Thank you. Please hold.”

I hear a series of clicks, like the line is being transferred.

Then: “Hello, Natalie.”

The voice is male, raspy, and heavily accented. He sounds like a two-pack-a-day smoker. It’s definitely not Kage.

“Who’s this?”

“Maxim Mogdonovich.”

I lose the ability to breathe. In a state of shock, I stand frozen, gaping at the kitchen cabinets.

“I assume by your silence you know who I am?”

My hands shaking and my stomach in knots, I whisper, “I know who you are.”

Kage. Oh god, Kage. What’s happened to you?

Because something must’ve happened. Something terrible. The head of the Russian mafia wouldn’t be calling from prison to wish me happy birthday.