35. April

35

APRIL

The job, it turns out, is for the Groza Bratva.

I follow Matvey through the winding twists of the HQ's basement level. It feels weird to be here—like I'm snooping around somewhere I shouldn't.

At the same time, I've been invited here. Matvey invited me here. That alone fills my chest with warmth.

No more secrets, huh? I could get used to that. Being a part of Matvey's life— all of Matvey's life. Including the dark side.

Now, the only mystery left is what the heck I'm doing here.

When he opens the last door, I half-expect to be greeted by armed guards and crates of weapons, maybe piles of suspicious white bags in the corners… but there's none of that. Hell, there isn't even a speck of dust on the floor. Nothing like the spooky backroom I'd been expecting.

Instead, there's machinery. Lots of it.

Oh, and people.

"Mr. Groza!" A woman in a lab coat strides up to us, eyes brimming with excitement. "So glad you could make it."

Matvey shakes her hand. "And you. I've heard good things about your work, Professor Simmons."

"I'm flattered. And this must be Dr. Flowers!"

For a second, I jump. Is my father here? Why didn't anyone warn me?

And then I realize, Oh. She's looking at me. "Um, I'm actually not?—"

But she's already shaking my hand. "It's an honor to meet you! When Mr. Groza talked to me about your project, I nearly lost my mind."

"In a good way, I hope?" I smile nervously.

"More than good. I've been begging the military for years to let me work on a project like this, but they wouldn't have it. I'm thrilled someone's finally thinking ahead."

"A project like…?"

"Nanofibers." She grins. "Truly, your vision is amazing. I can't wait to start."

I admit, my head's starting to spin. "Thank you. I— Uh, same, really."

"Great! I'll go get the others."

"Th-The others?"

But she's already running off.

"Excited, isn't she?" a new voice pipes up behind me.

I barely hold back a squeak.

"Lionel," Matvey greets. "Glad you could come aboard."

"After that check you offered me? I'd have jumped on the Titanic. This must be the mind behind the grind?"

Matvey nods towards me. "April, this is Dr. Reznikov. Lionel, meet…"

"The next big name in fashion," he fills in with a warm handshake. "Charmed."

I feel like I'm being spun around like a doll. "Um, pleasure's all mine?"

Dr. Reznikov doesn't seem to mind the question mark. "I've taken the liberty to run a few numbers. I hope you don't mind."

"N-Numbers?"

Out of the blue, he produces a tablet. What the hell…? "This is a list of materials split by cost, availability, and durability. I think the top five would integrate splendidly with Kevlar, but I didn't want to narrow it down too much, so I kept an open mind for alternative bases. Tincture shouldn't be a problem, but we might want to stick to black for the first few product runs."

"Uh-huh," I mumble as I nod along like a bobblehead.

"Then there's the matter of sizing. Of course, tailor-made is better, but we need to think about mass production as well. I put together a proposal based on large-scale export…"

I keep humming along to Dr. Reznikov's ideas, pretending I absolutely know what he's talking about. "I see. That's… interesting."

"Right? I respect creativity, of course, but a practical enterprise needs a practical mind as well. Don't you agree?"

"Right, we're all here!" Professor Simmons reappears out of nowhere, her smile somehow even brighter than it was before. "Oh, Lionel, won't you go get your team, too? So we can do a proper introduction?"

"Sure! Be right back."

As soon as the opportunity presents itself, I pull discreetly on Matvey's sleeve. "Uh, Matvey? A word?" Then I drag him to a secluded corner of the warehouse.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"What am I doing here?"

I catch the hint of a smirk on his lips. "Leading, of course."

"Leading…?"

"Everything."

I throw my hands up in defeat. "Okay, look, you got me. I'll buy a consonant, I'll buy a vowel, I'll buy the whole damn alphabet. Now, can you please tell me what's going on?"

He must be satisfied with my begging, because he finally stops teasing. "We're here to make clothes."

"Clothes?" I frown.

" Your clothes. The bulletproof suits."

For a second, everything sways. "What?"

"I want you to bulletproof my Bratva. If you're interested, that is."

Suddenly, I'm overcome with the urge to pinch myself. Out of all the proposals a gal might expect, this certainly takes some kind of cake. Though what kind, I'm not sure. "That's… wow."

"Is that a good wow or a bad wow?"

"It's a great wow." Now that the initial shock is fading, I feel a smile slowly spread across my lips. "Seriously, I can't even… Why? How?"

He shrugs. "Your idea was good. I want to invest."

Invest. God, I can't wrap my head around this. The only investment anyone's ever made in me were bets for Most Likely To Fall Over During Cheerleader Tryouts . Needless to say, I won those guys some money.

"So Professor Simmons and the ‘others'…"

"They're your R&D department," he explains, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "You'll have full access to the facilities, complete control over the project, and round-the-clock assistance. And of course, you'll be paid."

Okay, now, I really have to pinch myself. "P-paid?" I stammer.

Without a word, Matvey hands me a folded piece of paper.

At first, I think I must be reading it wrong. Then I wonder if there isn't a mistake—an extra zero. Or three.

Then I pinch myself, hard.

Breathe, April. Just breathe. "Matvey, this is too much. I can't… If you needed help, you only had to ask. I would've gladly done this all for free."

"That's out of the question."

"But—"

"April." Two strong hands descend on my shoulders. I have no choice but to tilt my chin up and let myself get captured by those ice-blue eyes. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this for my men. It's the right decision."

I force myself to swallow back tears. All my life, no one's valued me, and now…

Now, someone's asking me to do what I love. Someone needs me to do what I love, and they want to pay me handsomely for it.

"You don't need to hire me just because we're together, you know. If you want to take my idea and… and ask someone more skilled, I'll understand."

"Is that what you think this is?" Matvey asks, a trace of impatience in his words. "I'm not in the business of mindless nepotism, April. If I was, I'd be dead and buried."

"That's not what I meant!" I hurry to clarify. "It's just… Don't you want the best person for the job?"

"I do. And I've already got them."

This isn't real. This can't be real. "Matvey…"

His hand comes up to my cheek, catching a stray tear rolling down. "You don't have to do this," he says eventually. "You're allowed to say no, April. But I hope you won't. I hope you'll take this job, you'll take the money, and you'll take the opportunity to sign your name on your first line of clothing. I know it's not dresses and gowns, but…"

"No!" I shake my head. "No, it's perfect. I… I just can't…"

I stare at the number in my hands. The ridiculously high number. It's silly to worry about money now, with Matvey backing our family's every need, but it's hard to shake it off—the insecurity.

"It's still too much," I whisper.

"No, it's not. You're worth it."

You're worth it. How long have I waited for someone to say that to me? How many sleepless nights? How many Band-Aids? How many silent tears evaporating on a tulle hum?

"Why me?" I murmur as a last resort.

Matvey's lips twitch upwards. "Why not you?"

"… Okay. I'll do it."

His half-smile spreads into a full grin. "You'll lead the project?"

"I'll lead the project."

"You'll sign the line?"

"I'll sign the line."

"You'll take the money?"

I sigh, exasperated. "I still think it's a ridiculous amount."

"It's not. You should see what we spend on marketing." He shrugs. "Besides, I've already deducted room and board."

I blink. "I can't tell if you're joking."

"I'm not. I'm a businessman."

Unbelievable. I roll my eyes and finally blink back the tears. "Thanks. That actually makes me feel better about taking this."

"So that's a yes?"

I push myself up on my tiptoes. "Yes," I murmur against Matvey's lips. "Yes, Mr. Groza. I'll take your big, fat, shameless check."

I watch his pupils dilate. Black holes, eating away at the ice in his irises. "Good. Because I'm gonna run you ragged, Ms. Flowers."

"Is that so?"

"Mhmm. In fact…" He leads me into a side office and hoists me up on the desk. "I'm gonna start right now."