Page 27 of The Mafia's Septuplets
“We’re calling it practical caution in an environment where your safety matters to people who care about you.”
The personal admission makes her expression soften slightly. “People who care about me?”
“At least one person who cares about you.” I lift her hand to press a kiss against her palm. “More than he probably should, considering the complications.”
“Complications seem to follow you around.” Her tone lacks accusation.
I give a half-shrug. “They do, which is why I appreciate your patience with the unusual circumstances.”
“Unusual circumstances.” She laughs softly, and for a moment, the tension in her shoulders eases. “That’s one way to describe inheriting a money laundering operation and dating the man who owns twenty-five percent of it.”
“Dating.” I repeat the word, testing its implications. “Is that what we’re doing?”
Color rises in her cheeks, and she looks down at our joined hands. “I’m not sure what else to call it. We have dinner, we talk, and we spend time together. It feels like dating, even if the context is unconventional.”
“Unconventional is an understatement.” I study her profile. “I’m glad you see it that way.”
“What do you see it as?”
The question requires more honesty than I’m prepared to offer in a public setting, surrounded by potential threats and curious observers. What I see is the foundation of something that could reshape my entire existence, if I’m brave enough to let it develop. “I see it as the best thing that’s happened to me in longer than I care to admit.”
She looks up at that, searching my expression for signs of deception or manipulation. Whatever she finds seems to satisfy her because she threads our fingers together and holds on. “Even with all the complications?”
“Absolutely.” I squeeze her hand gently. “Some things are worth the risk.”
The moment stretches between us, loaded with inferences neither of us is quite ready to voice. I’m acutely aware of the surveillance teams positioned throughout the area, both mine and Mikhail’s, watching this seemingly innocent coffee date with professional interest. The knowledge should make me more cautious about public displays of affection, but it only makes me want to hold onto her more.
“Finish your coffee.” I note how she’s barely touched it. “We could take a walk through the historic district if you’d like.”
“Actually, I should probably get back to the shop. There’s a new client coming in this afternoon for initial measurements.” She glances at her watch, then back at me with something that might be regret. “Rain check on the walk?”
“Of course.” I signal the server for our check, noting how Willa’s appetite continues to suffer despite my efforts to maintain normal routines. “Dinner tomorrow night?”
“If you don’t mind dealing with a tired, slightly paranoid business partner, I’d love to.”
“I’ve dealt with worse.” I leave cash on the table and stand to help her with her jacket. “Besides, a little paranoia isn’t necessarily a bad thing in your situation.”
She freezes at that, her hands stilling on her jacket buttons. “My situation?”
The slip reveals more than I intended, confirming fears she’s been trying to rationalize away. I choose my next words carefully, aware that too much honesty could send her running while too little might leave her dangerously unprepared. “Your situation as someone connected to businesses that operatein gray areas,” I clarify quietly, speaking close to her ear. “Heightened awareness is a survival skill, not a character flaw.”
She nods slowly, though I see questions forming behind her green eyes as I pull back slightly to put more distance between us. “Survival skill. Right.”
We part ways outside the café with a kiss that feels both routine and electric, her lips warm against mine for just long enough to remind me what I’m fighting to protect. I watch her walk toward the shop, noting how she checks over her shoulder twice before disappearing around the corner.
My phone buzzes with a text from Timur:Package delivered. New complications with Miami shipment. We need to talk.
The coded message translates to fresh problems with Balakin’s expansion and possibly new intelligence about his intentions toward Willa. I respond with confirmation and head back toward my car, already planning adjustments to security protocols that might keep her safe without making her feel like a prisoner.
I drive through Charleston’s narrow streets and consider Timur’s warning about irreversible changes. This woman has become unbelievably important to me, and I’ve changed because of her.
In all honesty, the transformation should be alarming. Instead, it feels like evolution and becoming someone who might deserve the trust Willa’s slowly learning to offer. Whether that evolution proves to be strength or fatal weakness remains to be seen. When I think about her fingers intertwined with mine, and the way she’s started to believe in possibilities beyond mere survival, I hope I’m becoming the man she needs me to be.
Even if it costs me everything else.