Page 53 of Heritage of Fire

She’s still turned away from me as she talks, jaw clenched and hands fisting her leather jacket she never put back on. Her mouth parts, releasing a sigh.

“I’d say it was a rather unpleasant meal,” I respond, and she snorts. “It’s because of whotheyare, Luna, not because of who you are—or who you are to me.”

“And who am I to you, Nik?”

I suck in a breath, unsure how to even answer that question. Yes, she was the woman I was compelled to marry, but Luna’s effect on me is?—

“He killed a man,” she says, interrupting my thoughts. “My guard, at seventeen. That’s what he was referring to. I’m sure you were wondering.”

My mind reels. There are several reasons Salvatore Buscetta would have killed one of his guards, some more legitimate than others. But, when you’re the underboss, I’m not sure you evenneeda reason.

However, Luna at seventeen, and Salvatore killing a guard. I wonder …

“Did he hurt you?” I clench my teeth together as I say it, anticipating the worst. The idea that something like that could happen to Luna—my stomach churns at the thought.

“No. Not in that way. It’s a classic story of older forbidden boy … and a young naive girl thinking he hung the moon. Myfather found out and put a bullet in his head. Said I didn’t know what love was, and he was right. I didn’t—don’t. But he was a choice I made formyself; not one forced on me. I should’ve known better.”

She glances in my direction, fire burning in her eyes, before resuming her gaze outside.

“I lost my value to my family that night,” she continues, and I track a solo tear gliding down her cheek.

This is the toxicity of organizations like ours. Viewing women as currency—purchasing alliances and loyalty with them. The Bratva, as I’ve known it, has never used women like that, but that’s not typically the norm for most Mafia organizations.

Fraternizing with the boss’s granddaughter while on duty was a slap in the Cosa Nostra’s face—and, in our world, cause for punishment—so I understand why her father did what he did. Although, the situation shouldn’t have reflected negatively on Luna.

“Luna …” There’s too much distance between us. Reaching over, I turn her chin toward me. Her skin is cool to the touch; I should probably turn the heat on for her. My fingertips dance across her silky-smooth cheeks, aiming to wipe her tears away.

“Nik,” she says, breathless. Her warm exhale skates over my hand, and my pulse quickens at the sound of my name on her lips—it’s intoxicating. In this moment, I want to take awayallher hurt.

This is madness.

“Thank you for coming tonight.” She sighs, no longer meeting my eyes. “Look, Nik, I don’t expect anything from you. It was nice of you to come to dinner and bring me to Russia. But I know what you saidthiswas,” she motions between us, “and I know you have a life and certain … habits.”

“Habits?”My brows furrow.

“Youknow …” She trails off.

“No, Luna. Idon’tknow,” I say. I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles turning a shade of white I’ve never seen before. She takes a deep breath, arranging her skirt over her knees.

“Forget it. I appreciate you coming with me.” She offers me a half-ass smile, and a festering pang in my chest grows. Forget it? What if I don’twantto? For some messed up reason, I long to know how she sees me.

But instead of trying to force an answer out of her, I start the car. I catch her watching me and give her a wink.

“How about a donut?”

I toss a donut and napkin into Luna’s lap, and she pins me with an exasperated look. Practically unhinging my jaw, I inhale the glazed goodness in my hand.

Moaning, I give Luna another wink. She rolls her eyes, but a hint of a smile twitches at her lips.

This shop is my little secret. I found it on my way out of the city a few years ago. I love the vintage vibe of the place, with its neon pink and orange awning, and the glowing signage with scrawled lettering.

But therealgold is their homemade donuts.

My addiction to them rivals Luka’s to coconut cake. Something about the sugary sweetness does something to me. I’m not a huge sweets guy, but these are perfection. And this shop has some epic flavors with unique toppings—and all kinds of other drizzled deliciousness. Although, at the end of the day, glazed are my go-to.

“Come on,” I say, “you have to try.”

She picks up the donut and rips a quarter off, popping it in her mouth. I wait for her verdict as she chews. A moment later,her eyebrows raise, a look of pleasant surprise lighting up her face. She closes her eyes and swallows.

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