Chapter 19 #2
I’m at her side in two steps, careful of wires and rails as I lean in. She smells like sweat and the faint, familiar trace of her shampoo. She clutches at my t-shirt with her good hand, fingers curling tight as if she’s afraid to let me go.
“I thought—” she starts, then stops, swallowing hard.
“I know,” I whisper. “I’m here.”
We cling to each other awkwardly around hospital equipment, foreheads pressed together, both of us shaking now. She cries quietly into my shoulder; I cry into her hair. Neither of us says what we are both thinking. It could have been worse, and one day, it might be.
When I finally pull back, Kazimir is gone.
I didn’t hear him leave, and I didn’t feel it either.
A few days later I’m halfway down the curved staircase, distracted by my own thoughts, when a familiar laugh cuts through the quiet order of the first floor.
It’s out of place here, it’s too loud and too alive for a house that tends to hum rather than speak.
I stop short, one hand curling around the banister as I look down and see Devin standing near the entry hall.
When I see her, she has one hip cocked and a garment bag slung over her shoulder.
A neatly dressed woman gestures toward the east wing and explains something in a clipped, professional tone.
My heart jumps into my throat.
“Devin?” I say, disbelief spills into my voice before I can stop it.
She turns, her eyes widen, and then she’s grinning; full and bright. “Well, holy shit,” she says. “If it isn’t Savannah’s most kept woman.”
I’m down the rest of the stairs in seconds, grabbing her hands, apologizing when she pulls away the one still in a splint. The bruises must still be there, but Devin is an artist and makeup covers them. She looks tired, but better.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice pitching low even though I’m a little panicked. I glance at the other woman, already bristling. “Dev, you cannot—”
The staff member smiles politely, stepping back. “I’ll give you a moment,” she says, as if this is perfectly normal. As if my best friend showing up in Kazimir Baranov’s house is not deeply alarming.
The moment she’s gone, Devin grabs my arm and drags me into a small side room off the hall, closing the door behind us with a soft click. Sunlight spills through tall windows, catching dust motes in the air. I turn to her, heart pounding, and look her up-and-down.
She’s wearing a pencil skirt and a blouse. I’ve never seen her dressed like this, but then I see the badge clipped to the waist of her skirt.
“What the hell is going on,” I say. “You can’t work here. You can’t be involved with this.”
She blinks at me. Then her shoulders sag, tension bleeding out of her like air from a punctured tire. “Aly,” she says quietly. “I’m okay.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It kind of is.”
She leans back against a table, rubbing her hands together like she’s grounding herself. “Your terrifying fiancé offered me a job.”
My stomach twists. “Dev—”
“Before you freak out,” she continues, cutting me off, “I said no at first. Like, immediately. It was like a reflex. Because Bratva, obviously. Then he told me how much he would pay me.”
I go still. “How much?” I ask her.
She bites her lip, as something giddy and disbelieving flashes across her face. “Three thousand five hundred dollars. A week.”
The room tilts.
“That’s not funny,” I say automatically.
“I know,” she says, laughing softly. “That’s the problem. Couldn’t really turn that down, could I?”
I stare at her, my mind scrambling to catch up.
Three thousand five hundred a week. That’s more money than she’s ever made, more than she should be making, more than makes any sense for what I can only assume from her outfit is a hospitality job.
My instinctive fear sharpens, twisting into something darker.
“He’s buying you,” I say, hating the way it sounds when it comes out of my mouth. “That kind of money isn’t normal, Dev.”
“No,” she says firmly. “He’s rescuing me.”
She pushes off the table and steps closer, and says, “I don’t have to go back to The Foundry.
I don’t have to smile at men who scare me or pretend I don’t hear the things they say.
I get benefits. I get a room if I need it, and I can move out of that shitty neighborhood in a few weeks. I feel like I can finally breathe.”
Her eyes shine, and that’s what finally breaks through my panic. Not the money or Kazimir’s involvement. It’s the raw relief that’s etched into her expression.
“I was scared you’d be mad,” she admits. “Or embarrassed.”
“I am,” I say weakly. “A little. Not embarrassed of you, but of…” I don’t know how to explain that the kind of life I live now feels wrong. Unearned. I’m embarrassed that I’ve kept secrets and that I wasn’t able to rescue Devin myself.
She snorts. “I bartended topless for tips. I can survive working for a Russian crime lord.”
I sink into a chair, suddenly exhausted. “I just didn’t want you pulled into this world because of me.”
She crouches in front of me and places her warm hands on my knees. “Aly. I was already in danger.
Silence stretches between us and it’s thick with everything I haven’t told her. The lies are heavy and uncomfortable, and before I can talk myself out of it, the truth spills out of me.
“This whole thing,” I say. “Me and him. It’s not just fake because it’s convenient. It’s fake because someone else threatened me. Another criminal. He said he’d hurt me to get to Kaz.”
Devin’s eyes widen, sharp and focused now.
“And there’s rules,” I continue. Heat creeps up my neck when I say, “no intimacy and no touching. That wasn’t my dad’s condition, although I’m sure he wanted it too. It was something Kazimir added when we met with the lawyer.”
“And?” She prompts gently.
“And, we broke it,” I admit, barely above a whisper.
Her mouth drops open. Then she grins like she’s just been handed the juiciest secret in the world. “Oh my God. You fucked the Bratva boss.”
“I did not—”
“You absolutely did,” she says, delighted. “I knew it. I knew there was no way that man was looking at you like that and not losing his damn mind.”
“This is a disaster,” I say, and my face is burning with embarrassment.
“This is like a romance novel,” she counters. “A fake engagement; forbidden sex…a mob boss with control issues! Babe, you’re living my dream.”
I groan and cover my face. “It’s dangerous.”
“It’s hot,” she says. “He’s protecting you.”
“I don’t need protection,” I mutter.
She squeezes my knee. “You don’t need to pretend you don’t want him either.”
I look up at her, startled, and she just smiles, soft and knowing.
“Whatever this is,” Devin says, “don’t talk yourself out of it because you’re scared. Let him prove he’s worth the risk.”
The words settle deep in my chest. They are both unsettling and tempting.