Chapter 4 #2
Nadia's jaw ticks, but instead of snapping back, she nods once. "Done. If he is not here in ten try his cell and then start sounding the alarms," she says coolly, the words just shy of biting.
"As you wish Vor," Nik nods with a locked jaw.
"While we wait, we need to talk next steps," Nadia says, already turning toward the hallway that leads to the kitchen. "Come on."
Gwen nods. "I'll take the kids upstairs," she says, reaching out for Mia, who transfers from Nik's arms without stirring. Toni, still clutching two Legos and a plastic spoon like twin swords, waddles over to Gwen and lifts his arms.
"Come on, buddy," she murmurs, hoisting him up, and placing him on the opposite hip of Mia.
"I'll meet you guys after the kids are down."
Oh, did I mention that, along with being ridiculously beautiful, Gwen is also a lawyer?
Like, top of her class at NYU, passed the bar on her first try, full-blown badass lawyer.
She's the reason that—even with my dual degree from Yale in English and Political Science—I've accepted that some people are just built differently.
Gio rises from the couch with a dramatic sigh and a flair only a ten-year-old prodigy can pull off. "Спокойной ночи, тётя. Ночь, Напа!"
"He knows Russian?" I gasp.
"Taught himself," Nik shrugs, moving down the hallway, and I follow because I wasn't told not to, but I don't know what I would add to the conversation.
"Yeah, that kid is scary smart," I whisper under my breath as we step into the kitchen—and immediately forget what I was saying.
It's stunning. Industrial and sleek but somehow still warm and welcoming.
The countertops are black marble with delicate white veining, polished to a mirror-like sheen.
Brass fixtures gleam beneath recessed lighting, and the oversized farmhouse sink looks like it could bathe a medium-sized dog.
There's a six-burner gas stove, a double oven, and a built-in espresso machine that looks like it belongs in a spaceship.
It's like my ultimate dream kitchen. There's even a bowl of apples and pears on the counter, perfectly arranged like they were summoned by a food stylist.
Nadia moves around the space, opening a cabinet and pulling down a stack of mugs without even looking. "Expresso?" she offers, already reaching for a container of coffee grounds. "Because it's going to be a long night, and if you fall asleep I am not liable for how I wake you up."
"Only if you promise there's cream, sugar, and possibly caramel in this house," I reply, sliding onto one of the counter stools.
Nadia shoots me a look—because she indubitably drinks her coffee black. No cream, no sugar, no mercy. Just straight-up roasted bitterness. It's literally the craziest thing about her, and I know her murder body count.
I, on the other hand, am a former coffee connoisseur turned matcha addict, and there is no universe in which I think coffee should be consumed black. It's a war crime of the mouth. A dark roast assault. Coffee, in my opinion, should taste like a nicely made tiramisu.
Nadia rolls her eyes walking over to the fridge and looking in briefly before turning back to me with a bored nod. "Yup."
"I'll take a cup, too," Nik says, sliding onto the stool beside me. He folds his hands on the counter and meets my eyes and leans his large viking frame over the counter.
"Lily," he says gently, "can you tell me exactly what you saw tonight?"
I blink at him, throat tightening. "What about… bugs?" I ask, voice higher than I meant it to be. "Like, are there bug microphone things in here? Recording things? Is this place safe? I don't want to incriminate myself…or Aleksandr."
Nik glances at Nadia with a humorous smirk, and Nadia scoffs as she knocks out the old grounds into the waste bin, taps in fresh espresso, tamps it down.
Nik turns to me. "This place is literally safer than Fort Knox. No one is listening in."
"Oh cool," I whistle low, clutching the edge of the counter and tapping my thumb aimlessly as I avoid everyone's gazes.
"Lil, what did you see?" Nadia asks, her tone even but edged.
The machine hisses again, louder now, steam curling up around her wrist as she locks the portafilter into place.
A low growl builds as the shot pulls—thick, dark liquid dripping into a pale yellow ceramic cup she didn't even glance at before placing.
I cough and swish my hips in the seat. "Well, I saw Alek shoot Officer Lyon. In the head."
Nadia doesn't look up. She just watches the espresso drip, calm and composed, like she's letting the machine speak for her. Then, with a sigh, she reaches for a second cup.
"Great, Aleksandr's first time being messy with a kill comes at the absolute worst time," she mutters. "And what about that Dahlia person who came up to you?"
"The woman on the street," I say, my fingers tightening around the counter. "I told her my name was Jessie. She was asking about me entering the building so late. I said I was an assistant for the lawyers, which should be a good cover because of the firm on the 23rd floor."
"Good thinking, Lil," Nik praises, ruffling my hair lightly and I bite down a smile.
"I'm going to assume this Dahlia person is a cop.
So we're good until the morning when she can check if Jessie works at that firm," Nadia swears softly under her breath, pouring a third shot.
"But when they find the body in the alley, she'll place you at the scene, and they'll pull you in for questioning. "
Nik speaks up from beside me, his hands pounding on the table rhythmically. "Then step one is figuring out who Dahlia is, and whether she can tie Lily to the scene."
"Exactly," Nadia says, setting the pale yellow cup along with caramel, sugar and a carton of oat milk down in front of me. "Lil, where did it happen? Precisely."
"There's a back-alley door between the yoga studio and our building," I say, heart pounding. "Aleksandr killed him right by the back door that doesn't work."
Nadia exhales, lips twitching into a grim smile as she slides a cup of coffee across the table to Nik "Good. That's a dead zone. No cameras, no traffic. If that's where it happened, we've got time."
"Why were you even back there?" Nadia questions, blowing on a porcelain espresso cup.
"I left my phone and keys upstairs, and Viktor was nowhere to be found," I sigh, leaning my elbows onto the counter.
"Nice job, Lils," Nik snorts, and I jab him in the side with my elbow.
"I'm forgetful! It's totally a personality trait now!" I huff.
Nadia chuckles, lifting the porcelain cup to her lips as Gwen walks into the kitchen, scrolling through her phone.
Gwen clicks her tongue at me as she makes her way to Nik. "Hey, no injuring my man.."
"Tell your man to stop bullying me first," I mutter looking down at my black coffee.
Gwen loops her arms around his shoulders and rests her chin against his chest. I start to assemble my coffee: a shot of cream, a three second squeeze of caramel, a spoonful of sugar, then take one big sip of my sugary masterpiece.
"What did I miss?" Gwen hums.
"Lily is the only one who can place Aleksandr at the crime scene," Nik murmurs as he pours a splash of milk into his coffee and silently hands the cup to her.
"If there's no DNA evidence," Naida mutters, half to herself.
Gwen steals Nik's coffee and swallows it with a sigh, lowering the cup just as I hear it—the distinct panting and soft patter of nails on polished tile.
My whole body relaxes as my pitbull, King, trots into the kitchen like he owns the place, ears perked, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. He spots me on the counter stool and launches himself forward with his usual unearned confidence, two front paws landing heavily in my lap.
"Hey, buddy," I grin, cupping his squishy face in both hands and pressing a kiss between his eyes. "Aww, I missed you, handsome boy!"
He licks my chin once and then settles at my feet like a warm, oversized shadow, his head resting on my bare toes.
"You know there's no DNA at that crime scene," Aleksandr's voice rings through the room low, controlled, almost bored. "I was messy, not an idiot."
Nadia eyes him over her cup. "Thank god for small miracles."
My eyes dart up to Aleksandr, and his grey eyes are already on me.
He's ditched the suit entirely now—wearing a fitted black henley that clings just enough to hint at the sharp lines of his torso, the top two buttons undone like an afterthought.
His dark joggers hang low on his hips, soft-looking but tailored enough to still be dangerous.
His black hair is damp, curling slightly at the ends like he's just stepped out of the shower or, more likely, washed something off—hopefully just blood.
"Thank you for getting King," I whisper.
He nods once and moves to the counter with the precision of a soldier and grabs the last empty mug and moves towards the kettle on the stove, because Aleksandr doesn't drink coffee at all.
Gwen moves away from Nik, and leans across the counter as she speaks. "So, if there's no evidence… You got rid of your clothes, pulled off Officer Lyon's fingernails, and you don't have any fingerprints—"
"I'm sorry—what?" I cut in, coughing on nothing, nearly spilling the coffee Nadia just handed me. "You don't have any fingerprints?"
Aleksandr doesn't even flinch. He turns on the faucet, letting it run cold before filling the kettle, and placing it on the stove. "My father burned them off."
My eyes practically bulge out of my head as I whip my gaze around the room, waiting—begging—for someone to react. To flinch. To say what the actual hell like a normal human being.
But no. Everyone looks terrifyingly calm. Nik just takes another sip of his coffee. Nadia's scrolling through something on her phone like Aleksandr didn't just casually admit his father burned off his fingerprints. Gwen is focused, eyebrows slightly raised in mild interest, but that's it.