33. Kane
KANE
The bakery is packed wall-to-wall with people.
Most of it is staff, but there are friends and neighbors too. Even a few local reporters were invited to cover the reopening.
Delilah moves through the crowd like she was born for this, smiling and laughing and accepting congratulations.
I watch her from near the counter, a plate of her raspberry tart in my hand. She catches my eye and grins, and I feel that familiar warmth spread through my chest.
My phone lights up.
I glance down. Niko's name fills the screen.
I step toward the quiet back hallway and answer. "What is it?"
"We've got a situation." His voice is tight. "Some of the old guard are talking about moving against Vetrov."
"Moving how?"
"The permanent kind."
I curse under my breath. "Where are they now?"
"At Konstantin's. The dinner they invited you to. The one you declined so you could be at the bakery."
Right. The dinner I skipped to be here with Delilah. Where I should've been from the start, managing this kind of situation.
"Save me a seat," I say. "I'm coming."
I hang up and pocket my phone.
Delilah appears beside me, her smile faltering when she sees my face. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah. But I need to go deal with something."
"Now?"
"Yeah. Now."
I wait for her to be disappointed. To ask me to stay. To make this harder than it already is.
Instead, she steps closer and kisses me. Quick and firm and full of confidence.
"Go get them, tiger," she says.
I frown. "You're not upset?"
"Why would I be upset? You have work to do." She straightens my collar. "Just make it back in time for dessert."
"All you're serving is dessert."
"That's right. So whenever you make it back, there'll be dessert left over."
My face softens. "You're incredible."
"I know." She grins. "Now go before I change my mind."
I kiss her again, deeper this time, then force myself to pull away.
As I head for the door, I catch Priya watching us with a knowing smile. She raises her glass in my direction.
I nod back and step outside.
Stepan is already waiting with the car.
I get into the back seat. "Konstantin's. Fast."
He pulls into traffic without a word.
I lean back and close my eyes, replaying Delilah's words in my head.
Go get them, tiger.
Zero guilt or demands. No making me choose between her and the work I need to do.
She just kissed me and sent me on my way.
I pull out my phone and text Niko.
ME: On my way. Keep them talking.
His reply comes immediately.
NIKO: Hurry.
I pocket the phone and watch the city blur past the window.
I'm the luckiest man alive.
And I'm going to make it back in time for dessert.
Konstantin's sits on a corner in Brighton Beach, the sort of place that's been around since before the neighborhood became fashionable. Red leather booths, dim lighting, and the smell of grilled meat and vodka hanging heavy in the air.
I walk in and the hostess barely glances up before waving me toward the back room.
The door is closed. I push it open without knocking.
Eight men sit around a long table. Plates of food cover the surface. Bottles of vodka scattered between them. They all look up when I enter.
Niko is at the far end. Relief floods his face.
The others show varying degrees of surprise and discomfort. Konstantin shifts in his seat. Pyotr sets down his glass. Mikhail actually flinches.
"Kane." Konstantin recovers first, his voice too smooth. "We didn't expect you."
"I know." I close the door behind me and cross to the chair beside Niko. "You figured I'd be at the bakery all night."
"We assumed you'd be occupied, yes."
I sit and pour myself a glass of vodka from the nearest bottle. "So what are we discussing?"
No one answers.
I wait.
Finally Konstantin says, "Vetrov."
"What about him?"
"He's using our properties to finance his operation. Properties you surrendered."
"I'm aware."
"We think it's time to respond."
I sip the vodka. "Respond how?"
Pyotr speaks up. "We eliminate the issue."
"You mean kill him."
"Yes."
I set down my glass. "No."
"Kane—"
"No," I repeat, voice harder now. "We're not moving on Vetrov. Not yet."
Mikhail leans forward. "He's funding his entire campaign with assets that should still be ours. Every day we wait, he gets stronger."
"And every day we wait, his investors get more nervous." I look around the table. "Fletcher's primary backer started asking questions after we exposed the gap in his assemblage. That pressure is only going to increase."
"That's not enough," Konstantin argues.
"It is if we let the investigation play out."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then we move. But not before."
Pyotr shakes his head. "You've gone soft. Trading ninety-one properties for a woman. Now refusing to act when—"
I'm out of my chair before he finishes the sentence. My hand slams the table hard enough to rattle the glasses.
"Say that again," I invite, my voice dangerously quiet.
Pyotr's jaw works. But he doesn't repeat it.
I straighten and look at each man in turn. "I traded those properties because that was my choice to make. And I'm telling you now, we preserve the investigation. We let Fletcher's financing collapse on its own. We don't give Vetrov a martyrdom play or an excuse to escalate."
"And if he moves first?" Konstantin asks.
"Then we respond. But we don't start this war."
The table goes quiet.
Niko finally speaks up. "Kane's right. We move now, we hand Vetrov what he wants. An excuse to consolidate support and paint us as aggressors. We wait, Fletcher's project dies from lack of funding, and Vetrov's credibility goes with it."
I glance at him. He meets my eyes steadily.
"How long do we wait?" Mikhail asks.
"As long as it takes," I say. "But I'm not asking you to handle it. Niko will continue directing operations. He makes the call on when we move."
That gets a reaction. Surprised looks all around.
Konstantin frowns. "You're staying out of it?"
"I'm delegating."
"To Niko."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Because Delilah asked me not to let work consume everything. Because I promised to show up for her, and tonight, I failed her.
Because I'm trying to build something that doesn't require me to sacrifice one part of my life for the other.
But I don't say any of that.
"Because Niko has the time and focus to manage this properly," I say instead. "And because I trust him."
Niko's face doesn't change, but I catch the slight lift of his shoulders. The hint of satisfaction.
Pyotr doesn't look convinced. "And if we disagree with his decisions?"
"Then you bring it to me. But I'm backing him." I look at Niko. "Whatever calls you make, I support them."
He nods once. "Understood."
I turn back to the table. "Anything else?"
Konstantin hesitates. Then says, "There's been talk. About moving on Vetrov without authorization."
"From who?"
"Dmitri. Pavel. A few others."
"Shut it down," I tell Niko. "Anyone who moves without approval answers to me directly."
"Done," Niko says.
I drain the rest of my vodka and stand. "Enjoy your dinner."
I'm halfway to the door when Konstantin calls out, "Kane."
I stop and turn.
"You're really not coming back full-time, are you?"
"No."
"Because of her."
"Because I don't need to," I correct. "I have people I trust to handle it."
He nods. "Good luck."
"Thanks."
I leave before anyone else can weigh in.
In the car, Stepan glances at me in the rearview mirror. "Back to the bakery?"
I check my watch. Ten-thirty. The opening event ended half an hour ago.
"Yeah," I say. "Back to the bakery."
The lights are still on when we pull up.
I push through the front door and find Delilah in the kitchen, wiping down counters. Priya is boxing up leftover pastries.
They both look up when I enter.
Delilah smiles. "You made it."
"Sorry I'm late."
"It's fine. We finished cleaning up."
I look around. The space is immaculate. Every surface scrubbed. Chairs stacked neatly. The floor swept and mopped.
"You didn't need to wait up," I say.
"I wanted to." She sets down her rag and crosses to me. "How'd it go?"
"Fine. Handled."
"Good."
Priya zips the last box shut and picks it up. "I'm taking these home for Zara. You two have a good night."
"Thanks, Pri," Delilah says.
Priya winks at me on her way out.
The door closes. We're alone.
Delilah leans against the counter. "You hungry? There's still some quiche left."
"I'm fine."
"You sure? You missed most of the party. And the food."
"I know."
She watches me for a moment. Then says, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Kane."
I sigh. "I thought you'd be upset."
"About what?"
"About me leaving in the middle of your opening and missing everything."
She frowns. "Why would I be upset? You had to work."
"But it was your night."
"It still is my night. You're here now."
"Barely. Everything's already cleaned up. Everyone's gone home."
"So?"
"So I left you to handle everything alone."
Delilah pushes off the counter and crosses to me. "Kane. I don't need you to be at every event. I can run my own bakery."
"I know that."
"Then what's this really about?"
I look at her. At the confusion on her face.
"I was expecting you to be disappointed," I admit. "To tell me that I promised to show up and then bailed at the first excuse."
"But you didn't bail. You had a legitimate crisis."
"Still."
"Still nothing." She takes my hand. "I missed you tonight. And yeah, I wish you could've been here for the whole thing. But I'm not going to punish you for doing your job."
"Lilah—"
"No, listen." Her grip tightens. "I told you to go because I meant it. I understand that your work doesn't stop just because we're together."
I let out a slow breath.
It's all I ever hoped to hear. Understanding without demands, freedom without guilt.
But something still gnaws at me.
"I was afraid," I finally admit. "That you'd realize you don't actually need me here. That you're fine on your own."
Her gaze softens. "Of course I'm fine on my own. That's not the point."
"Then what is?"
"The point is that I don't need you to function, but I want you here. Being with you makes everything better." She reaches up and cups my face. "You get that, right?"
I cover her hand with mine. "Yeah. I get it."
"Good." She kisses me. Quick and firm. "Now sit down. I'm heating up that quiche whether you want it or not."
"I thought we were having dessert."
"I've changed my mind. Dinner first, then dessert."
I catch her wrist before she can pull away. "Delilah."
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For not making this impossible."
She smiles. "That's what we're doing. Making it work."
She pulls away and moves to the counter, pulling out a container of quiche and popping it in the small oven to warm.
I watch her move around the kitchen. Easy and confident and completely at home.
And I realize she's right.
We're making it work.
It's not perfect. It's messy and complicated and requires constant negotiation.
But it's working.
She plates the quiche and sets it in front of me with a fork. "Eat."
I eat. It's delicious, but of course it is. She made it.
Lilah sits across from me and watches, her chin propped on her hand.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing. Just thinking about how good tonight was."
"Even with me gone half the time?"
"Even with that." She grins. "Besides, you're here now. And we've got the rest of the night."
I reach across the table and take her hand. "Yeah. We do."
She squeezes back.
And for the first time all night, I stop worrying about what might go wrong and just enjoy what's right in front of me.