Page 87 of Enforcer Daddy
"Be careful," I said, the words inadequate but necessary.
"Always am." He shifted, rolling us so I was beneath him, taking a moment to kiss me thoroughly before pulling away. "Stay inside today unless you're with security. The Morozovs are still sniffing around."
"I know the rules," I said, trying not to feel caged by the necessary restrictions.
"My good girl," he murmured, pressing one more kiss to my lips before reluctantly extracting himself from our tangle of limbs.
I watched him walk to the bathroom, all controlled power and scarred skin, and marveled again at how this violent, beautiful man had become my safe harbor. The shower started, and I stretched in the bed that smelled like us, like home, like a future I was still learning to believe in.
Thedressesarrivedanhour after Dmitry left, delivered by a woman who looked like she'd stepped out of Vogue and handled each garment bag like it contained crown jewels. She hung them in the bedroom with practiced efficiency, murmuring something about alterations being available if needed, then disappeared with the kind of discretion that only money could buy.
I stood before them like they were an exam I hadn't studied for. Five options, each more beautiful than anything I'd ever owned or even imagined owning. The red dress screamed confidence I didn't possess—scarlet silk that would cling to every curve, with a neckline that plunged almost to the navel and a slit that would show my entire leg with each step. Movie star material, the kind of dress that demanded attention and announced its wearer as someone who mattered.
The black one whispered instead of screaming—silk so fine it seemed to move on its own, catching light in ways that turned it from midnight to smoke. Classic, elegant, with long sleeves but a back that dipped low enough to make sleeves seem like a tease rather than modesty.
Emerald green made me think of yesterday at the compound, how Dmitry said it made my eyes look like jewels. This one had delicate straps and a bodice decorated with what might have been actual diamonds, tiny stones that caught the light like stars against the deep green fabric.
The burgundy one was quieter—modest neckline, three-quarter sleeves, but the way it was cut suggested rather than revealed, elegant in its restraint. Something a senator's wife might wear, or a CEO at a charity gala.
But it was the fifth dress that made my breath catch. Midnight blue, the color of sky just after sunset but before full dark. Off-shoulder with delicate cap sleeves, a fitted bodice that flowed into a full skirt that would move like water when I walked. It was a fairy tale dress, the kind princesses wore in the illustrated books I'd stolen glances at in bookstores but never bought.
I touched it carefully, afraid my fingers might leave marks on the pristine fabric. The material was soft as sin, probably cost more than I'd made in a year of picking pockets. The impossibility of it—that this dress was here for me to choose, to wear, to keep—made my chest tight with emotions I couldn't name.
Bear padded into the bedroom, tail wagging, and I scooped him up before he could investigate the dresses with his perpetually muddy paws.
"What do you think, Bear?" I asked, holding the midnight blue dress against myself in the mirror. "Too much like playing dress-up?"
He licked my chin in response, which I took as approval.
I was reaching for the hanger, ready to try it on just to feel that expensive fabric against my skin, when the fire alarm exploded through the apartment.
The sound was sharp enough to hurt—that modern electronic shriek designed to wake the dead or drunk or both. Bear howled immediately, his puppy voice trying to match the alarm's pitch, and my street instincts kicked in before conscious thought.
Fire meant move. Fire meant don't stop for possessions. Fire meant get out now and figure out the rest later.
I dropped the dress and grabbed Bear's leash from the hook by the door, clipping it to his collar with hands that stayed steady despite the chaos. My phone went into my pocket along with the encrypted one Ivan had given me yesterday. Shoes—not the heels Dmitry would want me in tonight but the sneakers I'd worn to the compound, broken in and ready to run if needed.
My eyes—shit, my distinctive eyes that had a half-million-dollar bounty on them. I grabbed Dmitry's Yankees cap from the coat rack, pulling it low over my face. Not perfect but better than nothing. A jacket too, despite the warm day, because pockets meant options and fabric meant protection.
The hallway was already filling with neighbors when I opened the door, everyone in various states of undress and annoyance. The couple from 4C stood in matching bathrobes, hair still wet from interrupted showers. The older woman from down the hall had her cat in a carrier, the animal yowling its displeasure at the noise and movement.
"Probably another drill," someone said, but nobody stopped moving toward the stairwell.
I spotted them immediately—Anton and Mikhail, two of Dmitry's security detail who rotated through the building. They stood at the stairwell entrance, professional and calm, directing traffic with the kind of authority that came from handling much worse situations than potential fires. Anton's eyes found mineacross the crowd, a quick nod of acknowledgment that said he saw me, had me covered.
My phone buzzed as we joined the stream of people heading down. I pulled it out one-handed, keeping my other hand tight on Bear's leash.
I typed quickly: "Fire alarm, heading out with everyone, security guys are here."
His response was immediate, like he'd been holding his phone waiting: "Stay with Anton and Mikhail. On my way."
On his way. Which meant he'd dropped whatever violence or "business" he'd been handling to race back here. The protective intensity of it should have been suffocating, but instead it made me feel safer. Someone would always come for me now. Someone would always care where I was, if I was safe, if I needed help.
The stairwell was controlled chaos—twelve floors of residents all trying to descend at once, the sound of shuffling feet and complaints echoing off concrete walls. Bear pressed against my leg, trembling from the noise but moving steadily. I kept one hand on the railing, the other on his leash, and let the crowd's momentum carry us down.
"This is the third alarm this month," someone complained behind me.
"Better safe than sorry," another voice responded, older and more patient. "Remember that fire in Chelsea last year? Fourteen units destroyed because people thought it was just another false alarm."
