Page 65 of Scarlet Vows

“He seems to be with you.”

The warmth in her voice warms me, like I’m doingsomething so right that it’s hard to deny. Yet how can something so natural and small bring waves of joy?

Like Ilya in the frilly apron with a ready smile that lit him from the inside out, a smile just for me.

“He’s just so sweet and gentle. How could that kill shelter exist?”

“Oh, Alina, the norm tends toward that kind of shelter.”

I frown. “Aren’t they all like this?”

Eva looks at me like I’m naïve, and I can almost hear her ask herself where I come from. Then she glances at my shoes and jeans, and I know she knows they’re all expensive designer pieces. Even my bag.

Heat starts to rise from my toes upward.

“Not every shelter has a no-kill policy like this one. And the sad truth is,” Eva says as horror blooms inside me, “that money and space go against us. Like right now, we’re nearing capacity, so soon we’ll need to send dogs elsewhere. Hopefully to another no-kill place, but sometimes we don’t have control.

“What we do, though, is adoption drives online and in person, in the hopes that we can find some forever homes.”

The fact that there are kill shelters and that places like this sometimes have to send the dogs there is abhorrent to me.

But I’ve got a trust fund with more money than I know what to do with. I don’t need it all. It doesn’t buy me happiness, I’m aware of that. And if I asked, Demyan and Ilya would help.

Demyan would because Erin and his kids would want it, and Ilya would because it’s Ilya.

Ilya is a good man.

And I need to stop thinking about him.

But right then, with Albert on my lap, I make the decision todo what I can to help. Beyond volunteering and just donating money, there must be other things. Like funding on a bigger scale with all the no-kill shelters, setting up a forever home outside Chicago and around the country for dogs who can’t find a home to live a happy life. But of course, any goal would be to stop those puppy mills I’ve read about, and to help rehome dogs.

I finish my day at the shelter with a newfound energy and goal.

When I get back to the mansion, I play around with some ideas for the upstairs bedrooms and other rooms. I’m thinking we’ll keep things on a more formal level downstairs and where Ilya’s office is, and then modernize upstairs where I am. Have it almost as a living-quarters floor. Ilya’s home base.

Mine, too.

No… I stop that thought and sip my wine, curling into the armchair in the living room downstairs with my laptop. Ilya’s home. I’m just here for the year.

I open another tab on my search engine and a spreadsheet and settle in to do what I really want.

Helping the dogs.

The first thing, my starting base, is Eva and her shelter. I want to help, and I already have a recurring donation that I set up in Max’s name to start going to them, so hopefully it’ll help.

But I’ve really got the feeling it’s more than recurring donations that will help.

There must be ways I didn’t think about earlier. Ways to make it way more viable. And though I’d love to throw money at my ideas, I’m aware that getting the right people to understand how everything works is the most important thing, because that way, the money is used wisely. Anything else is a waste long-term.

I want to do something that makes a difference long-term.

I want to be, I realize, part of the fix.

The front door opens and closes, letting in the sound of voices. And my skin pricks all over at one of them.

Ilya.

I can’t help how I tense up in excitement and anticipation as his footsteps approach.