Alexei #2
Both of them look back at me immediately.
“No mistakes around the shelter.” My voice drops lower and colder. “Whoever took those photographs was comfortable getting close.”
Luka nods once. “We’ll handle it.”
The office empties. I remain alone beside the windows overlooking the river. My phone rests near my hand. Maggie’s last message glows faintly on the screen.
Dangerous.
She has no idea. That’s exactly the problem.
By six-thirty, the house smells like garlic, rosemary, and butter.
I stand near the dining room doorway, removing my tie and rolling back the sleeves of my dress shirt.
Ivy races through the hallway with Winston tucked beneath one arm and Daisy scrambling after her across the hardwood floors.
Winston’s ears flap wildly every time Ivy bounces around a corner, and Daisy nearly slides into a console table trying to keep up.
“Slow down.”
“I’m being careful,” Ivy calls back without slowing even slightly.
“You almost ran into the table.”
“But I didn’t.”
I close my eyes briefly and drag a slow breath through my nose. Somewhere behind me, Irina laughs under her breath.
The front gates buzz through the security system a second later. Ivy freezes so fast Winston nearly slips from her arms before her entire face lights up with excitement.
“Maggie!”
She tears toward the foyer before I can stop her. Winston barks wildly while Daisy races after them, her nails clicking across the floor.
I follow at a slower pace as the front door opens.
Maggie steps inside wearing fitted jeans and a cream-colored shirt. Her hair is loose around her shoulders with nothing on her face beyond lip gloss and a faint flush from the warm air outside. She still hits like a fist directly beneath my ribs.
Ivy launches herself at her immediately.
“You’re here!”
Maggie laughs while catching her against her side, one hand smoothing automatically over Ivy’s hair. “Well, sugar, y’all made me feel guilty.”
“That means the plan worked,” Ivy announces proudly.
My attention remains fixed on Maggie while she hugs my daughter.
Beneath the warmth of the moment, irritation coils through me because I should be telling her about the photographs, increasing security around her apartment, and putting distance between us until this situation with the Italians stabilizes.
Instead, I watch her smile at Ivy while Winston wiggles wildly between them, and Daisy noses insistently against Maggie’s hand for attention. All I can think about are the sounds she made in my bed last night.
It’s not ideal.
Maggie finally glances up. The second our eyes meet, the air between us turns thick. Recognition moves between us instantly, enough to tighten every muscle across my shoulders. Color rises slowly into her cheeks.
Interesting.
I step forward before the interrogation grows worse, my fingers brushing Maggie’s briefly as I take Winston from her arms. The small contact changes her breathing just enough for me to notice. Enough for heat to move low through my body.
The second Winston is back on the floor, he scrambles toward Maggie again while Daisy licks her hand for more attention.
“Who’s my favorite tiny security guard?” Maggie asks, crouching beside Winston and scratching Daisy behind the ears.
Ivy beams proudly beside her. “He protected the kitchen today.”
“From what?” Maggie asks, amused.
“Me,” Irina calls from the dining room.
Maggie laughs and glances toward the dining room. “Hi, Irina.”
“Good evening, Maggie,” Irina calls back. “The tiny security guard believes he now owns the estate.”
“That sounds about right,” Maggie laughs again.
The sound moves warmly through the house, in a way that feels unfamiliar after years of silence and careful routine, as if she belongs here already. That thought irritates me enough to drag a hand across the back of my neck and look away from her.
Ivy grabs Maggie’s hand before I can think about it any longer.
“Come see my project.”
Before Maggie can answer, Ivy drags her toward the staircase while Daisy races after them, and Winston barks encouragement.
“Manners,” I call after her.
“Sorry,” Ivy throws back over her shoulder without slowing down.
Halfway up the stairs, Maggie glances back at me helplessly, laughter still lingering in her voice.
The first floor grows quieter after that, and I remain lingering near the foyer while staring upward. The house hasn’t sounded this alive in years.
Clara loved loud rooms. Music playing somewhere in the background. People talking over each other. Movement in every corner of the house. After her death, silence became easier. Safer.
Now Maggie walks through these halls, and suddenly Ivy smiles constantly. I dislike how quickly she attached herself to Maggie. I dislike it even more because I understand why.
Irina passes by the foyer on her way to the kitchen, pausing briefly beside me.
“Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes,” she says.
“Good.”
She glances at the staircase before returning to me. “She is good for Ivy.”
Irina inclines her head once, like she understands more than she intends to say aloud, before continuing toward the kitchen.
I head upstairs, following the sound of Ivy’s voice, stopping outside the partially open bedroom door. Construction paper covers half the carpet alongside markers, glue sticks, and enough glitter to qualify as biological warfare.
Maggie sits cross-legged on the floor beside Ivy, helping her build a solar system model, or attempting to. Saturn currently hangs sideways.
“You glued Jupiter to the table,” Maggie informs her.
“I panicked,” Ivy replies.
Maggie laughs, then notices me standing in the doorway watching them. Her smile softens immediately.
I step farther into the room and crouch beside the disaster occupying Ivy’s carpet. “Explain why Neptune is upside down.”
“Creative vision,” Ivy replies confidently.
“Terrible vision.”
Maggie bites down on her smile, and my attention drops to her mouth before I can stop it. Instant mistake because I know exactly how that mouth feels beneath mine.
Maggie notices, and the next breath she takes is a little faster.
Ivy remains oblivious while holding up a glitter-covered foam ball toward me. “Can you help?”
“Yes.”
“No,” Maggie says. She points toward my hands. “You look like a man who’s never willingly touched craft glue a day in your life.”
Correct. I take the glue stick anyway. Five minutes later, it’s bonded to my fingers.
Maggie nearly folds in half laughing. “I told you.”
I glare at the glue coating my hand. “It appears defective.”
“That appears to be user error,” she corrects.
Ivy laughs so hard she hiccups, and the sound fills the room warmly enough that something twists low beneath my ribs.
My phone vibrates. One glance at the screen tells me it’s Luka. I stand immediately. “Excuse me.”
Maggie watches my expression change. She notices more than most people. That’s another problem.
I step into the hallway before answering. “Yes?”
Luka’s voice comes low through the speaker. “We identified the vehicle from outside the shelter.”
My back teeth clench. “And?”
“It belongs to a shell company tied to Enzo.”
A cold chill flashes through me. “Who was inside?”
“We’re still working on that.”
Not good enough.
I stare down the hallway toward Ivy’s bedroom while Maggie’s laughter echoes faintly through the doorway. Warm. Safe. A perilous illusion.
“Keep eyes on the shelter,” I say quietly.
“Already done.”
“Double them,” I order.
“Yes, boss.”
I end the call and remain standing in the hallway while the walls of this house suddenly feel narrower than they did a few minutes ago. I take a deep breath and then return to Ivy’s room.
Maggie looks up, concern on her face the second she sees me. “Everything alright?”
“Yes.” The lie comes out easily.
Ivy holds up Saturn proudly. “We fixed it.”
Maggie smiles at me from across the room. A feeling I don’t entirely recognize tightens hard enough to hurt. For the first time in years, I look at this room and want impossible things. That means the moment anyone threatens it, I will become merciless.
“Get washed up,” I tell her. “Dinner is ready.”
I turn on my heels and head to the dining room.
By the time I reach the bottom of the stairs, the house has returned to its usual order on the surface.
Staff moves quietly through the hall, setting glasses, adjusting silverware, and bringing in covered dishes of roasted chicken, herbs, and warm bread.
The dining room glows beneath low light, reflecting gold from the chandelier above the table.
Everything appears as it should. That’s the problem with danger. It rarely announces itself before it enters.
I take my seat at the head of the table but don’t reach for the wine poured beside my plate.
My attention remains on the doorway, listening to Ivy’s footsteps upstairs, Winston’s uneven bark, Daisy’s nails tapping against the floor, and Maggie’s voice guiding them both with the easy warmth she gives without thinking.
A few minutes later, Ivy rushes into the dining room with Winston close behind and Daisy moving at a slower pace near her side.
“I washed my hands,” Ivy announces, holding them up for inspection.
I look at them. “And?”
Her nose wrinkles. “And I used soap.”
“Good.”
Maggie appears behind her, smoothing a strand of hair back from her face. “She did. I witnessed the whole event. Very formal. Lots of bubbles.”
Ivy climbs into her chair. “Winston tried to help.”
“Winston licked the sink,” Maggie says.
“He was checking it.”
“He was licking it.”
Ivy considers this, then nods. “Both can be true.”
Maggie laughs as she sits across from me.
I force my hand to remain relaxed beside my plate.
She has no idea men are watching the shelter now because of me.
No idea her name sits inside a folder on my desk beside surveillance photographs.
No idea I’m already calculating how much of her life I can protect before she notices the walls moving closer.
Her eyes find mine across the table.
“You sure you’re alright?” she asks quietly.