Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 86242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
We both have jobs to do. We can’t just sit here like targets.
And I can’t take him with me. Not to the bar. It’s not a place for a child. Today’s the worst of the week—the only day we open early for “specials”—cheap drinks and sketchy characters. I’ll take a half-empty bar of regulars any day.
Shit.
“It’s gonna be all right,” Vadka murmurs, placing his hand on the small of my back. His touch is grounding and electric at the same time. It feels like it belongs there, even as my skin prickles like I’m on fire. The memory of last night burns in the corners of my mind and refuses to leave me. I keep reliving it—again and again and again—wanting to freeze it, to hold onto every inch of that memory.
For so long, I’ve been stumbling through darkness. Alone. The future seemed murky and scary, but now… now it’s like I can actually see into a future that brings me hope.
Maybe… maybe… with a man I actually care about.
And I don’t know how to feel about that.
Correction—Sigh. I do. I know exactly how I feel, and I’m absolutely fucking riddled with guilt.
It feels like hell.
Guilt clings to me like a second skin. I feel inadequate, tainted.
But if I’m being honest… I didn’t feel worthy of love even when Mariah was alive.
The drive back to my place is quiet. When we get to my car, Vadka opens the door for me like always. I slide into the seat as he mindlessly reaches across to buckle me in. He checks it, pulls on it as if to make sure it’s secure, and then stands with a satisfied nod.
He’s always been like this—a caretaker. Not hard like Rafail, cold like Semyon, or a little unhinged like Matvei. No. Vadka’s a protector.
And maybe… just maybe, I need to let someone take care of me. Something warm and unfamiliar unfurls in my chest.
“Heading into the office?” I ask, my voice strangely husky.
He nods, eyes flicking away. “Yeah. Eventually. I’ve got a few things to deal with. Need to talk to Rafail. Matvei intercepted communication. We’ve got to review it.”
I nod and shrug. “Sounds good.”
I shove my hands deep into my coat pockets—one of those futile gestures that hides too much, even from myself.
“Drive safe,” he says, voice quiet again. “You coming by tonight?”
He catches himself. “No, wait—you’re working.” His eyes flicker with something like disappointment. Hope? I can’t tell.
“Maybe after work,” I say, but it comes out more like a question than an answer.
He leans in, bracing his arm on the car door, his warm brown eyes searching mine. “You’d be safer with me.”
Would I? Physically, yes. Emotionally, I’m not so sure.
“I’ll think about it,” I murmur.
“Ruthie, if you—”
“Vadka,” I cut him off gently. “Please. I know you want me safe. But this… this is new. I’ve never gone home to a man in my life. Not like this.”
Especially one who was married to my sister. God.
“It’s not about that,” he says, shaking his head slowly. “God, I don’t mean it like that.”
I look away, startled at the sharp sting of rejection.
“Ruthie,” he says, softer this time. “Listen. The closer we stay, the easier it is for me to protect you.”
“You’ve got guards at the bar, yes?” I ask.
He sighs through clenched teeth. “Yes.”
“I’ve got location sharing on. You can track me.”
“I know, Ruthie, but—”
“I’m not one of the Kopolovs, Vadka,” I tell him gently. I’m not one of their wives, a Bratva princess, or even someone who works for them.
“Well aware, Ruth Marie.” My heart does a little flip in my chest even as I narrow my eyes. “Oh, so we’re pulling out middle names now? Getting all big brotherly now?”
We both know there’s nothing big brotherly about it.
“You’re so fucking stubborn,” he growls.
I flash him a grin. “And you love it.”
“Listen,” he says, exhaling hard. “You can sleep in the guest room. Or I will. Whatever you want. This isn’t about sex, Ruthie.”
Did he just say that out loud? He did, right there in the open, for anyone to hear. For me to hear.
My cheeks flame. All it takes is that one sentence and my body betrays me.
I remember what it felt like being in his bed. I want it again—now, later, always.
“Shame,” I mutter before I can stop myself. “That’s a damn shame.”
He doesn’t answer. Just looks at me like he wants to say everything and nothing at once.
“Alright,” I say, voice breaking just a little. Why is this whole exchange so emotionally charged? What the hell?
“I need to go. Please, Vadka. Let me go.”
He breathes out like he’s been holding it in for too long. But he lets me go. Finally. Reluctantly.
And I love that. He doesn’t want me to go.
I find myself driving—aimless for a while until instinct takes the wheel. It leads me to the old church, but that’s not where I’m going either.