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No matter how she tried to hide it, Mila clearly had trepidations about moving from Moscow back to Los Angeles.

She had found a groove there and was shining.

Maybe in another life, we could have invited her parents over for dinner.

Maybe that was still possible, but not until everything was settled.

It seemed like she was trying to drag her feet by wanting to do all her own packing.

The girl loved to shop, and I couldn’t say no to her, so she’d accumulated quite a wardrobe during the few weeks we were in Russia.

Her custom Italian clothes had just arrived, and she wanted to sort through everything and make sure everything was properly cataloged and packed.

“You may not realize this, but some of those dresses are worth more than a used car,” she said.

“Oh, I realize it all right. But Helga is an expert seamstress and promises to make sure nothing gets ruined.”

Once she was sure the woman I hired to get her things together was worthy, she had no more excuses, and we were on our way.

When we landed early in the morning, her smile was brighter than the sun trying to break through the smog.

She might have been worried, but there was no denying she was thrilled to be home.

I was pleased too, breathing in the air that smelled like traffic and oil more than the sea, at least at the airport.

We took a small detour to see the mighty Pacific on our way to my new place—our new place, and sat in the back of the chauffeured car, watching the waves crash against the sand for a long time.

Even after the long flight, she was ethereally beautiful, but her face was tinged with sadness.

“This is going to be fine,” I said. “No, it’s going to be great. Wait and see.”

Pressing her hand against the window as if she could catch the seagulls dive-bombing the water, she sighed. “That’s all I can do. Wait and see.”

Since neither one of us was in disguise, it wasn’t safe to get out and frolic on the sand, so we headed home, where she began to explore the house.

I promised her she could make any changes she wanted, or hell, we could move somewhere completely different if she preferred.

As soon as she was occupied with that, I began to secretly round everyone up.

The men who had stayed behind after the complete and utter breakdown between the Fokins and my organization were scattered, trying to hang onto what was left and not get swept up and punished for remaining loyal to me.

I hated keeping anything from Mila, letting her continue to believe I was content to sort out the remnants of my battered empire for now.

As much as I wanted everything I swore to her to be true, I didn’t know how it was possible.

There was no way the Fokins would see reason or accept their beloved baby sister being with me, so this was the only way.

That or accept defeat, which was something I wasn’t wired to do. I had worked tirelessly, taken beatings, been shot at and threatened, had spent countless hours and even more money to gain a serious foothold in this great city. I wanted what was mine.

Mila wouldn’t like that I was plotting a swift and furious takeover that would leave her brothers reeling. Not a takeover, a takeback. Fair was fair, after all, and I would be sure to keep the casualties to a minimum, with strict orders not to harm any of her immediate family.

It was going to be a harrowing balancing act, and I wasn’t sure how long I could keep it up, but it was for the greater good. Once everything was back the way it should be, Mila and I could move forward with repairing the rift between our families.

If only it weren’t already the size of the Grand Canyon, while I was about to tear it open even wider.