Page 87 of The Bratva’s Monster

Standing on the roof, in his arms, kissing him… I finally understand. I never need to feel afraid or insecure again. I’m in the care of the one man who will be my wall against all that might come.

34

RIKKI

At some point, it started raining.

With Liz safe, I imagine the rest of the world will return to the way it was before. The war, of course, is still on. And Stefan will want vengeance for his brother eventually…

But that’s a problem for the future. Right now, it’s just the two of us as I walk her up to her door.

“I’ll call you when I get home,” I say to her, even though the last thing I want to do is leave. I’m still troubled by my feelings for her. A cold terror sits in my stomach as I realize that she’s seen me at my worst once more.

I don’t take more than two steps before she says, “Stay with me?”

I half turn back. “What?”

She’s got her hand on the doorknob and her aquamarine eyes are so warm that it beats out the sudden cold snap coming through the city.

“I asked you to stay,” she says. “Please.”

She says it with such certainty that I can’t ask her if she’s sure or if she’d rather think it over. And I don’t want to, but today has been a hard day and I don’t want to take advantage of her vulnerability. Not any more than I have already, anyway.

“That’s probably not a good idea,” I say.

She tilts her head. “Why?”

I turn around fully to her. “You should take a day or two away from me. From… from this life. It’s a lot to deal with⁠—”

“I don’t want to,” she says. “I’m a part of all this, whether anybody likes it or not. Let’s not pretend that I can just bow out whenever I'd like. I was the wife of a Bratva. I’m carrying the child of that man. I’m neck deep in this, whether I want to be or not.”

“You shouldn’t have to be,” I say. It comes out almost against my will, but now that it’s there, I have to finish the thought. “It’s better for you to walk away from this and from me. You deserve something better than…” I trail off, my deepest angst at the tip of my tongue.

She leans in and says, “Better than you? Is that what you think? I deserve a different kind of man?”

“Yes.” I take a deep breath. She might as well know it all. Everything I’ve been holding inside. “Someone safe. Maybe a civilian. Somebody who leaves at nine for work and comes home at five. Maybe the kind of guy whose biggest worry is somebody stealing his pens or his stapler from his cubicle.”

A little smile tickles the corners of her mouth, but she doesn’t say anything.

“The point,” I say, “is that you and that baby deserve a better life than I can give you. And the way I feel about you… The best thing I know to do for you is to let you go and find someone⁠—”

“‘You tried to kill the only woman I’ve ever loved’,” she says, her eyes narrowing as she gazes at me. “That’s what you said to Josef. ‘The only woman you’ve ever loved.’”

I’m struck silent with the confrontation. I did say that. I said it with assured relish as I let my weight squeeze the life out of that son of a bitch. She tilts her head slightly.

“I’m not going to ask you if you meant it,” she goes on. “I know you did. A man doesn’t stomp another man’s chest in over a woman he’s only halfway interested in.” She takes a step toward me and takes my hand in hers, tracing the calluses with her thumb. “You love me, Rikki. Deeply.”

I feel like my heart is being squeezed. The pain in my chest aches with a terrible longing that I almost can’t bear. “Love… it’s not enough sometimes.”

She laughs, and it sounds delicate, like windchimes in the breeze. “Says who?” She looks up at me as if expecting an answer. I don’t have one. She walks into my space, putting both my arms around her waist. Her mouth is turned up to me as she gazes into my eyes and my heart thumps hard against my chest.

“It’s enough for me,” she says. “Because as long as you love me, I know I’m safe with you… and I know this baby will be safe.” She pauses, then, “I love you, Rikki. And I don’t want to do any of this without you.”

She raises herself up on her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine. She kisses me sweetly, as delicate as butterfly wings. Then she steps back and takes my hand, pulling me to the door.

“It’s been a long, long day,” she says. “Come on.”

Through the door, she leads me inside. We walk to the living room and she sits me down on the couch. “Relax,” she says and disappears through the door leading to the kitchen.