Page 78 of Wicked Vows (Suvorov Bratva 2)

Chapter Twenty

Liya

Thump. Thump. Thump.

My palm tingles with the steady reminder of Pavel’s heart. The beat imprints on my skin, irritating the flesh with the memory of him holding my waist while I slip away to the garden on the roof.

Hot, oppressive air smacks my face when I walk outside. I strip the cardigan from my shoulders and toss it on a nearby chair, turning to observe the towering trees, the thick shrubs, and the gorgeous flowers sprouting in every possible space. The wind picks up and caresses my cheek. I feel more at peace here than I did downstairs.

While wandering toward the path, I reach for the closest flowers—petunias—and drag my fingers over their satin petals. They soothe the ache in my gut.

But not in my chest. Not the massive hole expanding under my sternum.

He’s worried about me.

The realization smacks me as hard as the heat did seconds ago, perhaps even harder. I wander the winding path, getting lost in the thick leaves and sturdy tree trunks. Viktoria has done well to keep this garden alive. Much like the way I’ve committed to keeping my relationship with Pavel alive.

I’ve done so much. I touch the nearest tree, sighing as I close my eyes and focus on the strength of the bark.My feelings for him are real. I love him.

My eyes shoot open. As I gaze at the feathery leaves in front of me, I realize that despite the setup, Iknowthat Pavel means it when he says he’s worried about me.

He means it when he says he cares.

And that frightens me more than anything else right now.

Risk or not, it’s alarming to imagine losing him. Getting snatched off the street and tossed into a never-ending hellhole would be the worst possible outcome.

Among other things.

Yet it’s the loss of him that prompts me to consider the options presented.

Defer a year or take action now.

That’s my decision. He’s giving it to me once again.

And I know the choice I make will have huge consequences.

I retract my hand from the tree and continue walking, inhaling the fresh aroma of flowers and shrubs. The rich scent of soil greets me next and lures me into a meditative state. A stone bench appears next to a miniature fountain, the hot surface inviting me to sit.

For a second, the stone burns through my jeans and stings my ass. But after a few minutes, I adjust, and the heat levels out, turning into a soothing glow that keeps me grounded.

Cornell or Cardona?

The idea of choosing one over the other makes me sick. If I defer a year, I risk losing my place entirely. But if I don’t, then I might get distracted.

The longer I sit on this bench, the more I realize Pavel might be right.

Not that I’m going to say as much.

Still, my mind processes everything, and one thought stands out the most:

It’s better to take things slow.

My eyes roam the area, drinking in the gorgeous foliage. It’s hard to believe I’m still sitting in New York City right now. Everything looks so different now that I’m with Pavel. The streets that once seemed like a playground take on a new, darker, more sinister tone. It’s as if I’ve spent my entire life asleep, and now I’m awake.

A thick breeze rustles my hair. It’s nice to be up here by myself. If life didn’t demand so much of me downstairs, I would be up here all the time.

Slow and steady wins the race. But I don’t want to lose another second of my life with Pavel.

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