Page 38

YULIAN

That fucking mudak.

I couldn’t care less that he saw us. I don’t give a fuck that he knows I’ve claimed his ex-girlfriend as more than arm candy, more than just a girl to show off.

But clearly, Mia does.

I grit my teeth. The Baldwin family is the second richest in New York, just a notch under my own empire.

They have generational wealth, deals with prominent mobsters, hands in every cookie jar across the tri-state area.

They pay off cops, feds, judges—everyone they need to keep raking in billions while keeping their hands clean of mafia activities.

They don’t scare me.

Fuck it. Let Baldwin come at me with all he has. I don’t give a shit what he does to me—I’ll repay it a hundredfold.

But Mia is a different matter.

Mia lives alone in Brownsville. She has a small kid his father must never find, a job where anyone and everyone can come waltzing through the door, a predictable schedule.

And right now, she’s scared.

So I gather her up in my arms, leave the investors to Tikhon, and tuck her into the backseat of my car.

“Drive,” I tell Maksim.

He doesn’t need to ask where we’re going. There’s only a place Mia would want to be after this ugly mess.

Home.

It’s a long drive from Manhattan to Brooklyn. Mia spends the first half of it in silence, squinting out the window, as if terrified that Brad’s car will appear right behind us. As if he could do anything to us that I couldn’t protect her from.

Why should you? that cold voice in me demands. She’s no one to you.

I clench my fists and don’t reply.

Instead, I keep replaying the scene in my head, over and over. Mia’s face when he appeared at the end of that hallway was pure dread. It was the way my enemies look at me. The way a prisoner faces their executioner.

Whatever went on between them wasn’t just a bad break-up. I’d known that before—it was far too obvious in the way Mia flinched away from him at the wedding.

But seeing it with my own two eyes? Feeling Mia gasp for air, clawing at her own throat, in the grip of the most vicious panic attack I’ve ever fucking seen?

It makes my blood boil. It makes my gun hand itch. It makes me want to murder that son of a bitch with my own bare hands, feel his body kick uselessly as I squeeze, watch the life fade from his goddamn eyes.

But Mia needed me. And at that moment, she mattered more than payback.

On the Brooklyn Bridge, her voice finally breaks the silence. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

It catches me by surprise. “You’re apologizing again.”

“Well, I ruined your night again.” There’s sadness in her words. Regret. “That deserves an apology, doesn’t it?”

“No.”

She blinks at me, stunned. “What?”

I cup her face. Force her to keep those blue eyes on me— only me. “I already told you, kotyonok. Either you stop apologizing for things that aren’t your fault, or I’ll make you.”

Her body goes slack in my grip. Pliant, like clay. Right now, I could do anything to her, and she’d let me.

I could push her into the backseat. Could work my hands up and down her body, touch her just the way she likes. Make her gasp, moan, scream my name like it’s the only one she’s ever known.

But I won’t.

Not tonight.

Instead, I pull her forehead close to mine. Touch our heads together like Kira used to do to me, back when we were kids, back when she’d find me crying in a corner of the garden because I saw something I shouldn’t.

I was soft back then, too soft for the role the world had carved out for me, but she never held it against me. Never.

I won’t hold Mia’s softness against her, either.

“Yulian?” she whispers.

“Close your eyes.”

She does. Tonight, she won’t question anything I ask of her.

“Breathe.”

She obeys. I can feel the warm air leave her nose, brushing my lips on the way out.

“You’re safe here,” I tell her. “As long as you’re with me, Brad can’t touch you.”

“And after?” she asks in a small, quivering voice.

After. Somehow, I’d forgotten there was one. A future where Mia isn’t on my arm, in my car, in my bed.

“After,” I begin, stroking her cheek in time with her breathing, “you’ll be free. You’ll decide who touches you.”

Every instinct is screaming to claim her, pull her close and never let go, but I can’t trust that part of me. It’s the part that makes mistakes. The part that fails.

That part of me needs to die.

Once the Maybach rolls to a stop, I walk Mia upstairs. I don’t want any surprises. I won’t let her out of my sight until I know she’s truly safe.

The irony of that stabs me right in the gut. If there’s anyone Mia should be afraid of, it’s not Brad Baldwin—it’s me. I’m the one putting her in danger. The one shoving her into the line of fire, one trap after another.

“Mia.”

She turns, eyes rimmed with red. “Yes?”

“Our contract?—”

“Mommy!”

A little ball of energy careens towards us, straight into Mia’s legs. “Hey there, munchkin.” Mia smiles, ruffling her son’s hair. “Why aren’t you in bed yet?”

“I was waiting for you,” he says with a pout. “You didn’t kiss me goodnight.”

Mia’s face falls. “Oh my God, you’re right. I’m sorry, baby. Work ran so long, I couldn’t make it back home.”

“You’re here now,” he points out. Then his eyes, blue like his mother’s, zero in on me. “Hi, Yulian.”

I blink. “You remember me.”

“You’re really tall.”

“Alright!” Mia blurts out. “How about we let Aunt Kallie get back home and order some pizza?”

“Yay!” Eli squeals. “I want pepperoni! With extra cheese!”

Mia shakes her head, laughing. “Fine, you can have extra cheese. But just for tonight, you hear?”

But he’s already turned to me again. “What pizza do you want, Yulian?”

For a second, I’m too stunned to speak. “Pardon?”

“Pizza,” he repeats, like he thinks I might not be familiar with the concept. “It’s big, round, and it’s got slices. But it’s not a cake, because it has cheese.”

“Honey,” Mia blurts, “I’m sure Yulian’s too busy to?—”

“Sure.”

Mia stares at me, eyes wide. I’d stare at me like that, too, because why the hell did I just say that?

But I’ve said it now. It’s out.

And the warm smile spreading on Mia’s face is far too beautiful to take it back.