Page 50 of Heritage of Fire

The plane ascends into the sky. Anticipation hums in my chest. Perhaps, I think, I’m finally taking flight as well.

It’s not long into the journey when the window becomesthemost uncomfortable pillow. One of the benefits of flying on a private jet owned by the leader of the Bratva? Multiple seats I can sprawl out on.

I must fall back asleep for a while, because when I wake, heat envelops me, and a scratchy fabric tickles my lower face. Rubbing my eyes, I pat down my body and freeze.

A plush blanket is covering me, the end tucked under my feet. I glance around the plane, not wanting to fully sit up and lose the warmth hugging me. Igor is facing forward in the seat in front of me, headphones over his ears, seemingly asleep.

At the table, Luka is furiously typing on his computer while Nik sits across from him, scanning a long list of something. As if he can sense my attention, he swivels his head in my direction, and I pull on my lower lip with my teeth, pointing to the blanket.

“Thank you,” I mouth.

He nods and props his chin on the palm of his hand, a genuine smile peeking through.

Heat pools low in my belly, and my stomach flutters.

No … no, no, no.I’m supposed to be resilient and unaffected.Be unaffected, Luna.

Nik winks, like he can read my thoughts, and I cocoon myself back under the blanket.

The first few days of the new week drag, and by Wednesday I wish I could fast forward right through this evening. Nik hasn’t been home many of the nights since we returned, and I’ve been keeping meals simple with salads and sandwiches. Earlier today, Lev took me to the library to return my books, then to the store to pick up some ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies for the guys at the warehouse. I also grabbed some premade cookies in case baking goes as well as my cooking.

The men working in the warehouse have been surprisingly kind. Always waving at me on my walks or propping the door open when I have a handful of groceries. The community among them is something I’ve never seen in the Cosa Nostra. Something my father has been desperately trying to change since Antonio.

If a warehouse is where I have to live, this is the best option.

Attempting to hide the dark circles under my eyes, I dab on concealer and fan it out. I absently wonder if Nik will be late again tonight. Even though I’ve been in bed at 10 p.m. every night since we’ve returned, I usually lie awake, waiting to hear the door open so I know he made it home all right.

Once the shower turns on, only then can I sink into the deep sleep my body craves. Unfortunately, that means I haven’t been falling asleep until 2 a.m.

Finished with my makeup, I take my hair down from its clip and run a hand through it. Dry shampoo is a must-have, and I take full advantage of its benefits. Tipping my head upside down, I spray the underside and create the volume my mother would be proud of. I step back, studying myself in the mirror. It’s been so long since I’ve seenthisperson.

I adjust my black pencil skirt, tucking my cami underneath before pulling on my button-down. Then I throw on a black leather jacket and put some earrings in. Peering at my reflection one last time, I shrug. This will have to do.

I reach for the black heels I left on the bed and I carry them to the living room, glancing around to make sure I didn’t leave a mess anywhere. The bowl of cherries I washed is still out, so I pad into the kitchen and dig around in a drawer for a container.

Keeping Nik’s place put together remains a priority. Not because I feel like it’s my job, but because I don’t want my presence to detract from hisclearlydefined bachelor space.

The door clicks and I freeze. The clock says 5 p.m., and Nik isneverhome this early. I crouch down, lifting a heel. Although, if someone managed to get past several armed guards in a warehouse full of weapons, I doubt my heel is going to do much.

The door swings open—and it’s Nik. I sigh in relief, and he pauses when he sees me. A second later, he laughs. “Think I was an intruder?” he asks, shutting the door.

I shrug, standing on one foot to place my heel on. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

He moves forward a step, then stops abruptly, clearly taking in my outfit. Eyes drag over my face and caress the top half of my body before dropping to the exposed part of my legs. I lose mybalance trying to put on my other heel and have to catch myself on the counter.

“Where you going, Luna?”

“Oh. My parents requested I have dinner with them this week.” I grab my bag off the island and stride toward the door.

“Dinner? With your parents? Just you?” He backpedals his steps until he’s blocking my path.

“Well, they texted when we were in Russia and asked to have dinner with both of us, but I know you’re busy and figured you’d be unavailable.” The handle is out of reach behind his imposing form. If I could just?—

Warm, calloused fingers snap around my wrist. I pause, my outstretched hand barely grazing the black knob.

“Where are you having dinner?” He doesn’t let go.

“Il meglio dell’Italia. It’s in the city. Lev said he would drive me.”

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