Chapter Ten
Lauren
I peer out the window at unfamiliar buildings stretching toward the sky.
Chicago.
We arrived late last night. Nikolai kept checking over his shoulder the entire drive, watching for any sign we’d been followed. He parked outside the apartment building and rushed us inside like we were fugitives.
He said Chicago was safe. Beyond Aslanov’s reach. But he’s still on edge, constantly alert, watching for threats I can’t see.
Maybe it’s paranoia. Or maybe he knows something I don’t.
Either way, I’m glad he’s vigilant. For Hannah’s sake.
Hannah tugs on my hand, and I crouch down beside her at the window, careful not to stand too close to the glass. The sun is setting, washing the buildings in pale orange light. It looks different here than in Atlanta. Harsher somehow. Less like home.
“You guys okay?”
Nikolai’s voice behind me sends an unwelcome flutter through my chest. The same thing happened last night. My body remembering before my mind can stop it.
“We’re fine,” I say without turning around.
He steps closer anyway. I can feel him there, just a few feet away.
“You’re safe here,” he says quietly. “I promise.”
Something in his voice loosens the knot that’s been sitting in my stomach since the break-in. That deep, steady certainty. The same tone that used to make me feel like nothing could touch us.
I hate that it still works.
I glance back at him briefly, then away. Looking at him too long makes everything more complicated. Makes me remember things I can’t afford to remember right now.
Four years I spent believing he was gone. Four years of rebuilding myself into someone who could function without him. And now he’s here, and my body won’t stop reacting like no time has passed at all.
But I can’t go there. Can’t let myself fall back into orbit around him when I have Hannah to think about. She’s the only thing that matters. Keeping her safe. Getting through this. That’s the only reason I’m here. The only reason I got in his car. I have to keep reminding myself of that.
“Mommy.” Hannah squeezes my hand. “Where are we?”
“Chicago, baby.”
“I want to go home.”
The words pierce straight through me. “I know, sweetheart. But we can’t. Not yet.”
“Why not?”
Shit.
How am I supposed to answer that? Do I tell her that we’re hiding from the world’s most dangerous Bratva boss? That her father isn’t actually dead? That the stranger who saved our lives last night is the same man she’s been having dreams about?
I crouch down to her level, forcing a smile. “Think of it like a little adventure, baby. It’s not every day that we get to visit a brand new city, right?” I stand and gesture around us. “And look at this place. It’s pretty cool, isn’t it?”
Hannah takes a tentative step toward the window, peering out at the unfamiliar skyline.
“Do you want to see the rest of the penthouse, baby?” I continue, keeping my voice light. “It’s really something.”
And it is. I can’t deny that. Modern, spacious, three bedrooms upstairs with two full bathrooms. The master suite has a soaking tub I used last night, letting the hot water ease some of the tension from my shoulders.
But what struck me most were the details. Toys arranged on the shelves in Hannah’s room, as if they’d always been there. When I opened the closet last night, I found new clothes—my size, Hannah’s size—hanging neatly on the rack. Everything we’d need, already waiting.
Nikolai must have arranged it all. Somehow. Despite everything happening around him.
I hear him move behind me and I turn, half-expecting that intense stare of his. Instead, I find myself looking at a stuffed bear.
“This is for you, Hannah.” Nikolai kneels down, offering it to her with both hands.
My throat tightens.
This—watching him try to connect with our daughter—is almost harder than everything else we’ve been through. I’ve imagined this moment so many times. Dreamed about it during those first brutal months after his “death.” Nikolai meeting Hannah. Hannah having a father.
But not like this. Never like this.
“His name is, um... Mr. Brummy,” Nikolai says, and there’s something different in his voice. Softer. Uncertain in a way I’ve never heard from him before.
Hannah’s eyes light up. She takes the bear carefully, hugging it to her chest.
“What do we say?” I prompt gently.
“Thank you,” Hannah whispers, looking up at him with those blue eyes—his eyes.
Nikolai’s expression shifts. Something warm breaks through that perpetual guard he keeps up. He almost smiles. Really smiles, not the dangerous half-smirk I remember, but something genuine.
“No problem, kiddo.”
He stands and glances at me. That same warmth is still there, lingering in his gaze.
My heart does something complicated in my chest.
I look away, focusing on Hannah and her new bear.
This is about keeping her safe. That’s all. I can’t let myself get distracted by the ghost of what we used to be, by the man I thought I’d lost forever.
No matter how much seeing him with Hannah makes me ache for everything we should have had.
A sound from the kitchen pulls my attention, making me flinch. A woman I don’t recognize is putting away dishes, moving around the space like she knows exactly where everything belongs.
My body tenses automatically.
“Lauren, this is Claire,” Nikolai says. “She manages the estate. She’s been here for years.”
Claire is petite, maybe late fifties, with kind eyes and graying brunette hair pulled back in a clip. When she notices me watching, she offers a warm smile. “Hi there.”
“I trust her,” Nikolai adds quietly.
Coming from him, that means something. Nikolai doesn’t trust easily.
“It’s nice to meet you, Lauren.” Claire sets down the dish towel, approaching us. “And who’s this little one?”
Hannah perks up, clutching her bear. “I’m Hannah!”
Claire crosses into the living room, crouching down to Hannah’s level. “Well, Hannah, I hope you’re hungry. I made fresh cookies this morning. Plenty to share.”
Hannah's eyes go wide. She tugs on my shirt. “Mommy! Did you hear? Cookies!”
I can’t help but smile. “That sounds wonderful, baby. But only after lunch,” I add, glancing at Claire.
She nods, understanding immediately. “Of course.”
Claire stands, giving both Nikolai and me a gentle smile. “I’ll leave you to get settled. If you need anything at all, just ask. It’s nice having people in the house again.”
She returns to the kitchen, and I feel some of the tension in my shoulders ease. Claire’s presence surprised me, but there’s something comforting about her. Something that resembles normal.
“I like her,” Hannah announces, already running off to explore with Mr. Brummy tucked under her arm.
And then it’s just Nikolai and me.
The air between us feels immediately heavier without Hannah as a buffer. He’s watching me, and I can feel the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on the space between us.
I keep my expression neutral, but my heart won’t stop racing. Four years haven’t changed this. Whatever existed between us—that pull, that electricity—it’s still there. Waiting to explode.
Part of me wishes it wasn’t. It would make everything so much simpler.
But another part of me—the part that spent four years grieving him, that’s been numb for so long—feels something close to relief that it’s still there at all.
I look away before he can see too much in my eyes.
This isn’t about what I want. It can’t be.
Hannah is exploring her new temporary home, finally smiling again after last night’s terror. That’s what matters.
Not the way my pulse quickens when Nikolai’s too close.
Not the part of me that still remembers what it felt like to be his.
I manage a small nod. “Thank you. For all of this.”
He shifts his weight, arms crossing over his chest. “It’s the least I could do.”
Our eyes meet and hold. I should move. Walk to the kitchen, talk to Claire, check on Hannah. But I can’t seem to make my feet cooperate.
When I look at him—really look—I see more than just the man who disappeared four years ago. There’s something different now. Something in the set of his shoulders, the tension that never quite leaves his jaw.
He’s been carrying his own weight all this time.
The thought catches me off guard.
I want to stay angry. It would be simpler that way. Anger is clean, straightforward. It doesn’t require me to acknowledge that he gave up everything to keep us safe. That he’s doing it again now, putting himself between us and Aslanov without hesitation.
That he’s been alone for four years too.
But anger is easier than the complex emotions I have. Easier than admitting I’m terrified of what’s next. Easier than facing the fact that now that he’s back, I could lose him all over again—this time for real.
I don’t know if I’d survive that.
“I should check on Hannah,” I say finally, breaking the silence before it becomes something else.
He nods, stepping aside to let me pass.
I don’t trust myself around him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
But I can’t deny he’s here. That he’s protecting us. That he’s trying.
And despite everything—despite the lies and the grief and the four years of building a life without him—some part of me is still his.
I just don’t know what to do with that yet.