Chapter 23

Laura

“LU LU?”Her voice cracks on my nickname, tears already streaming down her face. “Oh my God, Lu Lu!”

I’m moving before I even realize it, my feet carrying me toward her as if pulled by an invisible string. We collide in a tangle of arms and tears, the baby squished between us.

“Ser,” I gasp, holding her as tightly as I dare. “I can’t believe it. I thought… I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

We’re both crying and laughing at the same time, spinning around in a circle with little Lucas giggling between us. His chubby hands pat my cheeks as if trying to comfort me.

But then Ser pulls back, her tear-filled eyes suddenly sharp with concern. “Lu Lu, what the hell is going on? Where have you been? And who are these guys?”

She jerks her chin toward Victor, who’s still watching us from a distance, his gaze sweeping over the surroundings.

“I thought you were dead!” Ser’s voice is high and thin as she hands little Lucas to James.

She’s looking at me like I’m a ghost, her hands fluttering around me as if she’s not sure I’m real. Then, without warning, she slaps me. Hard.

“Ouch! Ser, what the hell?” I yelp, rubbing my stinging cheek.

Ser blinks at me, then at her hand, as if surprised to find it raised. “Did that hurt?”

“No, it tickled,” I deadpan. “What do you think?”

She has the grace to look sheepish. “Sorry, I just… I wanted to make sure this wasn’t a dream.”

I stare at her. “Ser, you’re supposed to pinch yourself if you think you’re dreaming, not slap your best friend!”

She’s already crying again, her words coming out in a jumbled mess. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just… I had to make sure you were really here.”

James steps in, wrapping an arm around his wife’s shaking shoulders. He hands her a napkin, which she promptly blows her nose into with a honk that would put a goose to shame.

“Hey, Laura,” he says, bouncing Lucas a little. “This is quite the surprise. Ser’s been in and out of the police station, and she even went to your dad’s house…”

He lowers his voice, glancing around as if afraid of being overheard. “And no one would say a word about where you were.”

Ser’s head snaps up, her eyes blazing. “Laura Anne Thompson, if you don’t tell me what’s going on right now, there’s going to be hell to pay! Now, are you going to tell me who these guys are or what?”

I glance over my shoulder at Victor, who’s watching us with an unreadable expression. What is he playing at, bringing Serena and her family here?

“Ser, listen… It’s complicated.”

She arches a perfectly sculpted brow. “Complicated like you’ve been secretly dating a Russian underwear model, or complicated like you’re in some deep shit and need your bestie to help you bury a body?”

Before I can even begin to formulate a response, Victor strides up to us, his presence commanding and intimidating. He’s so tall, so broad, that he seems to block out the sun.

I hear Ser’s sharp intake of breath, and I know exactly what she’s thinking. Because I’m thinking it, too.

Holy shit, he’s hot.

But there’s more to it than that. There’s a danger to him, an edge that sets my nerves buzzing with equal parts fear and excitement.

“Kiska,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “Care to introduce me to your friends?”

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. “Victor, this is Ser, my best friend. And her husband James, and their son Lucas.”

Victor nods, a small smile playing on his lips. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I apologize if my men were a bit… overzealous in their invitation.”

Serena snorts. “Overzealous? They practically stuffed us into a sack and threw us into the back of a van! I thought we were being kidnapped by the Russian mafia or something.”

Victor’s smile turns wry. “Not quite, but close enough.”

Ser’s eyes narrow. “And why exactly did you ‘invite’ us here, Mr. Mysterious? Who are you, again?” She glances at me, then swings her gaze back to Victor.

Victor nods, his gaze assessing as it sweeps over them. “A pleasure to meet you all. I’m Victor Morozov, Laura’s husband.”

Ser’s jaw drops. James blinks rapidly, as if trying to process this new information.

“Husband?” Ser echoes, her voice strangled. “Lu, what…? When did you…?”

I can feel the heat of Victor’s body beside me, the weight of his presence. It’s overwhelming and comforting all at once.

“It’s a long story,” I say weakly. “A really, really long story.”

Ser’s eyes narrow, her protective instincts clearly kicking into high gear. “Well, you better start talking, missy. Because I’m not leaving your side until I know exactly what the hell is going on.”

I glance at Victor, uncertainty churning in my gut. How much can I say? How much should I reveal?

“Perhaps we should take this conversation inside,” Victor suggests smoothly. “I’m sure you’re all tired from the journey, and we have much to discuss.”

Ser looks like she wants to argue, but James places a calming hand on her arm. “He’s right, honey. Let’s get settled first, then we can grill Laura for details.”

She huffs but relents. “Fine. But don’t think you’re off the hook, Lu Lu. I want the whole story from the beginning.”

I manage a weak smile. “You’ll get it, Ser. I promise.”

What I didn’t expect is that being married to a billionaire Russian Mafia boss has its perks.

Firstly, I’ve never been flown privately in a helicopter to a winery that looks like it was plucked straight out of a fairytale.

I mean, seriously, who lives like this?

The garden alone is bigger than my entire apartment building, and the chateau?

It’s like something out of a Disney princess movie, all turrets and gleaming stone and freaking stained glass windows.

As we walk through the lush indoor garden, I can’t help but gape at the opulence surrounding me. Crystal chandeliers, plush velvet sofas, and a fountain.

An actual, honest-to-God fountain right in the middle of the room.

And don’t even get me started on the wineglasses—they probably cost more than my entire collection of mismatched thrift store mugs.

Secondly, this entire trip is completely paid for.

No scrimping and saving, no scouring Groupon for deals, no staying in sketchy motels with questionable stains on the sheets.

It’s a far cry from the budget-friendly road trips Ser and I used to take, where we’d subsist on gas station snacks and sleep in the car to avoid paying for a room.

Speaking of Ser, she looks just as gobsmacked as I feel. Her eyes are wide as saucers as she takes in the lavish surroundings, Lucas balanced on her hip. Even James, usually so unflappable, seems a bit dazed.

Victor, on the other hand, moves through the space with the ease of someone who’s accustomed to luxury. He guides us to a stunning glass conservatory, where a beautifully set table awaits. My stomach lets out a loud, embarrassing growl, and I realize I’m starving, even though it feels like I just ate breakfast.

Victor raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Didn’t you just have breakfast?”

I feel my cheeks heat up. “I did, but I guess I’m just extra hungry today.” It’s weird, actually. Lately, it seems like I’m always ravenous, no matter how much I eat.

Victor pulls out a chair for me, ever the gentleman. As I sit, I catch Ser’s eye across the table, and she’s shooting me a glance that screams, “Who the hell is this walking sin, and when did you start marrying off without sending me a memo?”

I quickly squint at Ser, my eyes signaling, “It’s a long story. I’ll fill you in later.”

Once everyone is seated, Sergei nods to the servers.

They move around the table with practiced efficiency, pouring water and a crisp white wine. The wine’s aroma is richer than any perfume I’ve ever dared to try.

Victor stands, commanding attention without even trying. He picks up his glass, “I want to thank you all again for coming,” he begins, his voice as nonchalant as if he’s narrating instructions on how to microwave popcorn.

“I know you’ve been worried about Laura. Due to some urgent Bratva matters, she’s contracted to be married to me for a year.”

Ser, mid-sip, does a full-on spit-take. Water sprays from her mouth like a malfunctioning fountain, drenching the fancy tablecloth. She’s coughing and hacking, her face turning an alarming shade of purple.

James, in a stunning display of solidarity, chokes on his own water. He’s pounding his chest, eyes bulging, looking like he’s about to hack up a lung.

And then there’s little Lucas.

The tiny traitor is cackling like a hyena, clapping his chubby hands in glee. He points at his parents, babbling something that sounds suspiciously like, “Mommy, Daddy funny! Again, again!”