Cassie shrugged off her coat, a three-quarter length tan trench suitable for the nonstop rain outside, and hung it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. She rarely wore the fancy suits she’d once worn at the station anymore, but she always had a tailored, classy look about her. Today’s tan jeggings, pretty white cable knit sweater and camel-colored flats were no exception. “It’s not like you’re a prisoner. You’re living here for Pete’s sake.”
“Yeah, but Roman could have told her.” Unlike Cassie, Evie was just as casual as Bonnie, except her jeans were of the skinny variety and she had on navy blue Keds to match her hoodie. She sat in the chair she’d hooked her silver puffer vest on, rested her elbow on the kitchen table and crossed one leg over the other. “If I didn’t know him better, I’d say it sounded like a controlling move, but odds are he’s just scared shitless something else will happen to you without him there.”
“Mmm hmm.” Cassie slid into the chair opposite Evie just as Bonnie slid a plate to the table and settled in the middle spot. “Nothing sits worse with men like ours than powerlessness.”
Men like ours.
Geez. Apparently, Roman wasn’t the only one thinking that they were a long-term done deal. Rather than address it she bit into the burger and moaned. Sweet baby Jesus. Nothing like seriously bad for you fast food to sidetrack reality and a whole lot of unknowns.
“Good grief,” Evie said with a chuckle. “When was the last time Roman fed you?”
“Yesterday,” she said around another mouthful. “The crazy fucker rented out some fancy schmancy French place I can’t even pronounce over in the French Quarter for a late lunch.”
“L’Arpège?” Evie said.
“Yeah, that place.”
“He rented out a restaurant?” Cassie asked. “For lunch?”
“Yep. Not a single other soul there except three waiters and whoever did the cooking. At least not that I saw.”
“Ohhh,” Evie said leaning in and resting her chin on her hand. “I’ve heard that’s an amazing place. Do tell.”
“You haven’t been?” Cassie said.
Evie shook her head. “Nope. Sergei knows I’m not much of a French food fan, and with Olga in the house, it’s not often we go out.”
“It’s insane.” Bonnie crammed a fry in her mouth. “Looks like they used the same decorator as Buckingham Palace. And we went there in jeans.”
Cassie snickered. “I bet that hasn’t happened in their entire history.” She shifted her attention to Evie. “Kir took me there once. Even the bus boys look like they could head out for an interview at a financial firm right after they got off work. Very upscale.” She looked back to Bonnie. “I didn’t think the food was all that, though. What did you think?”
Bonnie shook her head. “No clue. Our meal was a custom order and it definitely didn’t come off their menu.”
“A custom order?” Evie said.
“Yep.” Bonnie swallowed down the last bite of her burger and dusted off her hands over the plate. “He called ahead and told them what my favorite food was and had them make it.”
Both of the women’s eyes widened. “I’m almost afraid to ask,” Cassie said, “but what’s your favorite food?”
“A grilled cheese sandwich.”
Cassie blinked repeatedly.
Evie bit her lip, her smile huge and silent laughter making her whole torso shake. “Seriously? He had some fancy French chef make you a grilled cheese?”
“No, he had them make me three of them. All different variations.”
“Wow.” Cassie crossed both arms on the table and zigzagged her stupefied gaze between Bonnie and Evette. “That’s crazy romantic.”
Her friend was right. It was romantic. Enough so that Bonnie had been too tongue-tied all the way through the meal to argue anymore about the fiancée bit. And once they’d gotten home, he’d employed a far more physical approach to sidetracking any discussions. But damn it, there had to be a catch behind it all. Some gotcha she was missing because she was too glazed over to see good sense.
And she was definitely glazed over. Big time. So much so, she’d caught herself daydreaming a good number of happily-ever-after scenarios. All the frustration and confusion exploded at once and she blurted, “He called me his fiancée.”
Cassie gasped. “He did?”
“Yes.”
“When?” Evette asked.
“Yesterday when we were out running some business errand for him. Right after he’d bought me a three-thousand-dollar coat.”
“He said fiancée?” Cassie said.
“No. Mr. Frannelly said fiancée after Roman said something in Russian. Moya...something. It started with an n.”
Evette cocked her head. “Nevesta?”
“Yeah, that one.”
Ducking her head, Evie covered her mouth with the back of her hand, trying very much in vain to hide her smile.
Cassie snickered.
Bonnie shuttled her attention between the two of them. “What? What’s so funny?”
Evie cleared her throat, lifted her head and tried to school her expression. While the smile wasn’t as big, her eyes were full of laughter. “We’re sorry. We really are.”
“Speak for yourself,” Cassie said. “I think it’s awesome.”
“Some guy I’ve known less than a month is buying me ridiculously expensive gifts and telling people I’ve just met that we’re engaged, and you think it’s awesome?”
Cassie jerked her head in a sharp nod. “Oh, yeah.”
“Cassie,” Evie chided. “For a girl who was in the same boat not very long ago, you sure are smug.”
“It’s not smug. It’s happy. Jubilant. Heck, I’m downright ecstatic!” Her eyes got big and she splayed her hands wide on the table. “Oh, just wait ’til we tell Ninette and Sylvie.”
Afraid as she was to wade into whatever was going on, Bonnie did it anyway. “Tell them what?”
“That you’re getting married!”
Bonnie stared at Cassie. “But I’m not. I mean, he didn’t even ask me. And even if he had, who the heck gets engaged in this short of time?”
Evie slowly raised her hand. “Guilty.”
Cassie mirrored the action. “Me, too.”
Shit. Now that she thought about it, Cassie’s relationship with Kir had escalated kind of quickly. She looked to Evette. “Seriously? You two moved as fast as Roman is with me?”
“I think Cassie’s timeline was a bit more of a whirlwind than mine, but probably only a week or two faster.” She paused a moment as though considering her words. “Here’s the deal. Roman and Sergei and Kir aren’t like guys here. They’re from Russia. More than that, they’re bratva and very old-school. Their idea of dating isn’t like the men you’re used to. They see what they want and they take action.”
“Boy, do they,” Cassie said with a dreamlike smile on her face. “And I do love when my man takes action.”
Oh, God.
They were serious.
Bonnie pushed her plate away and clasped her hands on top of the table. Her lungs struggled to draw in air and her throat felt like it had a noose around it.
“Hey.” Evette rested her hand on top of Bonnie’s. “It’s going to be okay. Really. I remember what it felt like. How overwhelming it all was. The back and forth of being swept off my feet and feeling like I was drowning.”
“You felt that way, too?”
“Oh, yeah.” Evie jerked her head toward Cassie. “So did she.” She sighed and shook her head. “I’d spent years living in a shitstorm that never seemed to end. Nothing good excepting having Emerson. I couldn’t fathom how my life could turn into a fairy tale overnight. But it did.” She kept her hold on Bonnie’s hand for another moment, gave her a gentle squeeze, then released her hold and leaned against her seat back.
Bonnie looked to
Cassie. “What about...” She looked to Evie, but still couldn’t find the right words. “You know...what they do for a living? That doesn’t bother you?”
“Oh, it bothered the heck out of me,” Cassie said. “Or I should say it bothered me when I was going on rumor instead of what I saw and accepted for myself.”
“Which was?”
Cassie paused as though looking for the right words. “That Kir was a man with a deep sense of right and wrong. That he had honor. Respect for me, for his brothers and the rest of his family. That he would do absolutely anything in his power to protect me and the people he loves and that he would always be honest with me.”
“I get that. Any idiot that looks at your husbands when they’re with you knows that. But is the way they make their living legal?” She looked from one woman to the other. “I mean, seriously. Do you even know what they do every day?”
“Mostly,” Evette said. “Sergei’s done a lot in the time he’s been here to diversify family investments. Roman and Kir help him manage them.” She crossed one leg over the other and smiled. “They’re certainly not running guns and dealing drugs, if that’s what you’re asking.”
They weren’t? Wasn’t that what mobsters did? “So, you’re telling me they’re just straight up businessmen? That their reputation is just gossip?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” Evie said. “They’ve got influence. And they’re certainly not afraid to flex their muscle or more if the situation calls for it. But the only time I’ve ever seen them use their power was to help someone they considered theirs. For me, that was the difference. Like Cassie said—they protect the people they love and they do it in the most fiercely honorable way possible.”
Shit.
She’d never thought about it like that. “When you put it that way, they sound like Russian Robin Hoods.”
Laughter filled the kitchen in a second and Cassie doubled over with a hand wrapped around her waist. “Oh, my God. I gotta tell Kir that one. I’m not sure if he’d be flattered or incensed.”
Evie chortled and held her hand over her face, her cheeks bright red. “I just got the funniest picture in my head of Sergei in green tights. Can you imagine?”
A fresh wave of hilarity rolled through the room, one that took a good minute or more for everyone to get themselves pulled together. When they finally did, Cassie looked to Bonnie, a warm understanding waiting behind her mirth. “Sorry. We shouldn’t laugh. Both of us remember what it was like, but trust me when I tell you—sometimes you really do end up in a fairy tale. And when Prince Charming—or Robin Hood or the Jolly Green Giant—shows up with the slipper you left behind, you put the damned thing on. Not conk him on the head with it.”
It couldn’t be that simple.
Nothing in her life had ever been that simple. Or that good.
But it had happened to Evie and Cassie. And neither of them had had it easy before they’d met their guys either.
A loud gong sounded in the main hallway that ran through the first floor. An almost divine sound that seemed to add its approval to her thoughts.
“Whoa,” Cassie said in a droll tone. “That’s some doorbell.”
The doorbell. Right. That made a heck of a lot more sense than God sending her any kind of tangible clues on what to do with her life.
“First time I’ve ever heard it.” Bonnie stood and headed toward the door. “No one’s come to the front door since I’ve been here.”
From the scrape of chair legs against the tile kitchen floors and the sound of Evie’s voice, her friends were coming along to see who was outside. “Well, I can guarantee you, whoever it is, Roman knows they’re coming or the guards would have cut off their arms by now.”
Bonnie opened the door.
On the porch stood Mr. Frannelly, a teenage boy to his right and her guards standing behind them. The boy and the guards held decent-sized cardboard boxes, and Mr. Frannelly had two oversized satchels in each of his hands.
Frannelly dipped his head in greeting. “Hello, Miss Drummond.”
“Um...hi.”
Evette and Cassie crowded close behind Bonnie.
“That’s a load of stuff,” Evette said.
“Oh, shoot.” Bonnie moved out of the way and motioned everyone inside. “Come on in. Roman’s office is on the right.”
“This is not for Mr. Kozlov.” Mr. Frannelly paused halfway into the foyer and waited for the rest of the men to make it through, then looked to her. “These are for you. Perhaps the kitchen is the best place to start for now.”
For her? That didn’t make sense.
She padded forward and motioned to the left. “The kitchen’s this way.”
Everyone followed and the men unloaded their boxes and satchels around the kitchen table. Without another word, the guards nodded to her and headed back to the porch. Frannelly and the teenage boy faced her, easy smiles aimed in her direction.
Tempted as she was to ask a ton of question and dig into everything they’d unloaded, she figured introductions were a better way to start. “Mr. Frannelly, these are my friends, Evette Petrovyh and Cassie Vasilek.”
“It’s nice to meet you both.” He extended a hand to each of them then motioned to the boy beside him. “This is my son, Raymond. Roman brought him to me.”
“Oh, yes!” Evie said. “I remember Roman mentioning you now. You’re the jeweler over in Carrollton.”
He nodded. “Yes. That’s the one.”
“Sweet,” Cassie said, peering at the boxes with open curiosity. “You gotta love it when a jeweler shows up with a ton of boxes.”
“Oh, no,” Bonnie said, shaking her head. “Don’t tell me all of that is jewelry.”
Frannelly’s smile grew wider, as did Raymond’s. “Not jewelry, no. Not yet, anyway.”
Evette and Cassie looked as confused as Bonnie did, which was kind of comforting considering the situation. “Not yet?” Bonnie said.
“They’re supplies.” He opened one satchel and drew out several smaller boxes, stacking them one on top of the other. “Tools. Gold and gemstones.”
Inching closer to the table, Bonnie scanned all the items he’d laid out. Watched as Raymond pulled larger items from the boxes into view. Her brain struggled to put the pieces together. To figure out what was probably obvious but wouldn’t quite come into focus. “I don’t understand. Why would I need all of that?”
He stopped unloading and met her stare. Pure delight shone from his eyes. Like he couldn’t wait to share what he knew. “Roman shared some of your designs with me. He says you have many of them, but no education or experience. You need these things because I am here to teach you how to bring your ideas to life.”
No.
Freaking.
Way.
Make her own jewelry. Real jewelry? Not beads and braided silk?
A low chuckle sounded on her left. A second later Evie murmured, “Well, I think that’s our cue to head home.”
“I think you’re right.” Cassie pulled her coat off the back of her chair and both of them headed to the hallway with knowing smirks on their faces. Cassie leaned in as she passed, though, lowered her voice and added, “Fairy tales. They happen. Take your time and think about it.”
Chapter Seventeen
Reflections from the old-fashioned streetlamps lining Roman’s street glistened off the rain-slick asphalt. The sidewalks were empty on his block, to some degree because it was well past eight o’clock on a work night, but mostly because of the nonstop dreary weather.
His windshield wipers tapped out a slow and steady rhythm, an eerie pattern that felt like the drums on a death march. He was out of clues. Out of options he could leverage in finding Bonnie’s father and brother, and the weight of that fact hung heavy around his neck. He knew it wasn’t his fault. Knew that he’d done all that he could and that the only tools left were
time and patience.
But he still felt like he’d failed Bonnie.
He passed the front of his house and flickered his headlights to the men who waited and watched on the front porch. Once they were sure he was in and the alarm secured, they’d switch to the monitored cameras and sensors he’d had installed the day before. God knew, he remembered what it was like to stand guard on a cold dreary night. He saw no reason for his men to endure the same if technology could do the work and save them the discomfort. Especially with the extra precautions he’d installed that monitored for tampering or cut lines.
With his truck parked inside the garage, he waited for the door to trundle down then let himself in through the back. Securing the bolt once he was inside, he opened his mouth to let Bonnie know he was home, but closed it just as fast when he spied her silhouette at the kitchen table. The only light that was on was the pendant fixture directly overhead, accenting the deep reds in her dark hair so she had a sunset-colored halo. The rest of her was mostly in shadow, only a sufficient amount of light to show she’d traded her usual jeans and T-shirt for loose pants of some kind and a light-colored tank top. Her head bobbed slightly from side to side, as if she were either listening to music or singing a song to herself.
He’d never thought to find out what kind of music she favored. What kind of movies she liked or what books she enjoyed reading.
He had a very long way to go. Much to learn about his bride-to-be.
But none of what he uncovered would change his direction. He knew her character. Her heart and her history. With that, they could forge a future.
Assuming his failure to find her family and revealing his own past didn’t waylay his plans.
Rather than risk walking up on her unaware, he flipped on the lights over the long galley kitchen and set his leather briefcase on the built-in escritoire.
Bonnie spun in her chair, her eyes wide and her lips parted. “You’re home!” In one hand, she held a tool of some nature, and in the other what seemed to be a clump of clay was pinched between her fingers. She set the tool down and tugged one of the cords dangling from her earbuds free of her ears. “I was starting to wonder when you’d be home.”
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