Page 56 of Heritage of Fire

One of my men has the thing cornered. A half scream, half growl emanates from it, making my skin crawl.

“Nikolai,” Luka’s voice barks through the phone. “What are you doing?”

“Chasing a raccoon, Boss.” I slip on the slick floor again and my phone falls, sliding across the concrete before it hits a wooden crate. I stumble after it. “Boss?”

“Nikolai, I need you in the office as soon as possible.” Luka hangs up, and I glance up to find Luna watching me.

She winks before turning to the open back door. One of my men is shooing the raccoon outside—while another blocks its path back in. Once it’s out, silence settles over the warehouse—and promptly turns into an uproar of cheering and laughter.

Seven strong Bratva men, brought to a sweat by a raccoon of all things. Luna stands a few feet from me, and among all the laughter, hers is the only I hear—finally.

It’s beautiful.

Her laugh is magic—lyrical and captivating. I hold her eyes; they’re welling with tears, but for good reason this time. She lookshappy. Her arms wrap around her middle as she buckles over, chuckling. A lightness fills my chest, and I go to her, wishing we were alone.

I want to claim her mouth. Instead, when her laughter slows down and quiets, I tilt her chin up. My thumb presses into the soft spot just below her lower lip. Her mouth parts slightly.

A buzz in my pocket ruins it all. Probably Luka.

“I have to go back to the office. Don’t let any more creatures in here while I’m gone.”

Luna smiles wide. “Okay. I’m sorry for the chaos.”

“I’ll see you later tonight.” I back away slowly, a small fissure cracking open inside me—on one side, Luna. On the other, the Bratva.

I turn on my heel, not bothering to speak with anyone else.

Chapter 23

Luna

“That was some chase.” Lev’s laughter fills the hallway as I walk toward the stairs. I’m starving. Nik probably won’t be home until late, so I’m thinking popcorn and sparkling water while I finish my library book that’s due back tomorrow. “I didn’t think Nik would let the little guy live.”

Me, either.

But he did.

I smile as my mind wanders to Nik fumbling all over the warehouse with his men, trying to get our furry intruder to leave. A pleasant tingling zips down my spine, causing me to shiver. I reach up to my face, my thumb finding the spot where Nik’s had lingered. Yearning is what I saw in his eyes, his gaze suggestive. My thighs clench, thinking about the way he’d looked at me.

“Need some company upstairs?”

Lev touches my arm, halting me from going up. My face grows warm at the nonsensical notion he can read my most recent thoughts.

“I …”

How would Nik feel about my inviting a guard up for dinner? I know how myfatherwould feel. And while I enjoy Lev’s company, I don’t want to disrespect Nik.

“I’m okay. Thank you, though. Especially for all your help.”

He smiles. Disappointment glimmers in his gaze, though his expression softens a moment later, and he nods before leaving to return to his post for the rest of the evening. I hesitate on the bottom steps, feeling uneasy. Lately he seems to be pushing the boundaries of what’s appropriate, but I don’t want to get him in trouble—I know howthatends.

After a quick shower, I pop popcorn for my night in, adding extra butter. It’s only 5 p.m., but I’m already in my pj’s, ready to finish this book. Settling on the deep sectional sofa, I pull a plush blanket down over my shoulders. At times, I feel more at home here than I ever did at my parent’s place.

I plow through the last seven chapters of my thriller, predicting that it was, in fact, the mayor behind the young girl’s disappearance.

The clap of the book snapping shut echoes in the apartment. My mind drifts to Nik again. I don’t know how he does it, going back to the city right after getting home. The demand is insane. My father works hard, but evenhehas a better work-life balance. From what Nik shared with me in Russia, I get the feeling his dad struggled to find balance, and that’s why his mom left. I don’t envy the women married to these Mafia men?—

I pause, catching myself.I’mone of those women. But, I suppose, not in the traditional sense. I don’t love the man I’m married to, so it doesn’t matter if he’s not home for dinner most nights.

---