Til Death Do Us Part (Kornilov Bratva Duet #2) - Nicole Fox Page 0,28

called to gauge my interest or to tell me I need to be there? Because it sounds like this isn’t something I can skip.”

He hesitates and then sighs. “I need you there.”

“So, you’re telling me where I need to be.”

“I’m asking you to … to want to be there with me,” he says, sounding more exhausted than I’ve ever heard. “I know you don’t like these kinds of events. After the loyalty ceremony, I wanted to give you space from those people and that environment, but this is important. The Irish can offer support that will change the outcome of this fight. Plus, it will be delicious food, gowns and suits, and live music. I’ll try my best to make it bearable for you.”

The fact that he cared about my discomfort and sought to separate me from it is heartwarming, but that isn’t the only thing filling my chest. To my surprise, excitement is bubbling up. I want to go.

After our lunch at the diner, I realized I like pretending to be Viktor’s wife. Out in public, in front of other people, even though it is a lie, it is an easy lie. I can let myself lean into him and gaze at the handsome lines of his face and body. At home, I have to distance myself. I have to think constantly about what my next move will be after this war is over and how attached Theo is growing to Viktor. When we are out together, however, I can just be with him. I like that feeling.

“I’ll need a new dress,” I say, biting my lip to keep from openly grinning.

“Done,” Viktor says quickly.

“But I’ll do my own hair.”

He chuckles. “Again, done. Whatever you need, Molly. Tell me, and I’ll make it happen.”

When we hang up, the smile is still teasing the edges of my mouth, and when I turn off the bedside lamp, I finally let it spread across my face. For now, Theo and I are warm and safe, and I have a date planned with my husband. It almost feels perfect.

8

Viktor

George’s diner is a nice place. Clean. Quaint. A far cry from the rundown liquor store he owned before.

Technically, it is his brother’s diner, but now George owns fifty percent. Apparently, his brother was in financial trouble and George wanted to get out from under the liquor store where he nearly died—where I almost killed him, to be specific—so a partnership worked out for them both.

It worked out for me, too. Molly has been craving onion rings since becoming pregnant, and George sends them home with me free of charge.

I sip my black coffee, surprised by the smoothness. Most diner coffee is burnt tar water, but this cup is rich and nuanced. George walks over without a word and tops off my mug. When I look up, he tips his head towards the back door and gives me two fingers.

Meet me out back in two minutes.

I take a burning mouthful of coffee, count to thirty, and then drop a ten on the counter and leave.

The alley is dark and damp and it reeks of grease and rotting lettuce. George is leaning against the brick wall with a cigarette dangling from his lip, trying to light it. He looks up as I round the corner and walk towards him.

“How did you know I needed to speak with you?” I ask.

He circles his hand around his face. “I could see it in your expression. You were trying too hard not to look at me.”

There is a reason I hired George as Molly’s personal guard for a while. He is observant. He pays attention. He can read people.

I don’t like exactly how well he can read me, but as long as he stays on my side of this war, he doesn’t have anything to worry about.

“So, what’s going on?” he asks, shoving his lighter in the front pocket of his jeans. They hang off him a little looser than they used to. He’s lost weight since I first met him, and his arms are a bit thicker around the biceps. Having his life put in danger probably gave him good reason to want to get back into military shape.

“I need your help. Well, actually, I want your help.”

“You have guys. What could you need with me?”

“That’s the problem. I don’t know who my guys are right now. How much do you know about Fedor’s operation?”

“As little as possible,” George says, holding up a hand to stop me. “And