Page 31 of Born into Sin

“I’ll help her,” Sasha says, and then they both raise a white carton in a toast.

I laugh and start for the door. “You got it. Two extra orders of garlic bread coming up.”

When I get to the parking garage, Grigori and one of the newer bodyguards, Pavel, are sitting in the SUV. Sasha must’ve ordered extra for them, because when they see me through their windshield, Grigori drops his egg roll and gets out.

“Something wrong?” he quickly asks, walking over to me.

“No, I’m just going to grab some supper. I have a craving for Italian. I’ll be right back if you want to stay here and finish your supper,” I suggest, but the look he gives me makes it clear that won’t be happening anytime soon.

“Come on, I’ll drive,” he tells me, pulling a set of keys out of his pocket and heading for another black SUV. I don’t bother arguing. I just follow and get in the passenger side. Grigori’s a good man, and he’d have a heart attack if he knew that Svetlana and I snuck out while under his watch. It would devastate him, and I hope like hell he never finds out.

“I’m guessing we’re going to Mama Sofia’s?”

I smile and look over at him. “Best Italian food in the city.”

“It is,” he agrees. “You’d never know it from the outside, though.”

“It’s a hidden gem.”

He gives a soft laugh and takes a right out of the parking garage, heading us towards the east side of the city, the side Dominic controls. It’s not an issue for us to go there since our families are on friendly terms, and it’s not my fault the restaurant happens to be located across the invisible dividing line. Once we pass it, though, I swear I can feel him. I know it’s all in my head, but the feeling lingers all the same.

Grigori manages to find an empty spot, parallel parking near the entrance to the restaurant.

“Nice,” I tell him, giving him a big smile and a thumbs up.

He laughs, but before I can open the door, he grabs my arm to stop me. The mood shifts as his eyes turn hard and serious. There’s no longer a trace of the easy laugh he’d just given. His mouth is in a tight line as he turns his head, scanning the area around us for anything that looks even remotely suspicious. I stay quiet and still, letting him do his job, and only when he gives a small nod do I reach for the handle again and open the door. He’s by my side in seconds, walking with me while keeping a close eye on our surroundings. It all looks like a normal, busy night in the city to me, but I know Grigori is trained to see things that I can’t.

I stay by his side when we enter the restaurant. I’d placed the order on the drive over, so the food is already bagged and ready to go. I was right about this place being a hidden gem. The small restaurant with peeling paint and booths that probably looked great ten years ago but are now worn thin from too many asses doesn’t scream luxury food, but it definitely is. As soon as you walk through the glass door that’s always smudged with hand and fingerprints, all you can smell is pure heaven. Red sauce, garlic bread, and the best, freshest herbs in the city. It’s sensory overload in the best way possible.

Squeezing our way to the front counter, I give him my name and quickly pay for everything. Within minutes, we’re weaving our way back out past all the other hungry people waiting in line. I’m carrying the bags so Grigori’s hands are free, and we’re almost to the SUV when I hear several loud popping sounds in rapid succession, like it’s the Fourth of July and someone just lit a strand of firecrackers.

Before I can even register what’s going on, Grigori lets out a grunt of pain and throws me to the ground, covering my body with his. The bags of food fly from my hands, spilling across the pavement, and all I can hear are screams of terror, and all I can smell is the strong garlic from the bread that’s been tossed from the bag and trampled underfoot.

“Grigori!” I scream, feeling the back of my shirt start to soak with something hot and sticky.

He lets out another pained groan and fires off several shots. Seconds later, he’s handing me a bloody key fob. “Go,” he grits out. “Dominic’s house is closest. Go, Natalya. Now!”

“I’m not leaving you,” I quickly say, trying to turn around and see how badly he’s been hit.

“Yes, you are.” He fires off another shot and pulls his phone out, already calling for backup. “Go! Now!”

The fury in his voice has me moving my ass, scurrying across the hard cement as Grigori keeps firing to give me cover. I lose my heels in the scuffle, but with the adrenaline pumping through my body, I barely notice the rough concrete scraping at my feet. It’s been drilled into my head enough times to know that I need to get my ass out of here, so that’s what I focus on. I can hear my dad’s voice in my head as I push the button to open the door and jump inside.

If anything ever happens, you do whatever Grigori tells you to do. You listen to him, princess, no matter what. His job is to keep you safe. He will give his life to save yours, and you will let him, because I can’t survive the death of a child.

I’ll never forget the way he’d looked as he told me that, and I promised myself that I’d never disobey Grigori because seeing the hurt in my dad’s eyes was too much for me. Tears stream down my face, but I don’t stop. I gun the engine and pull out with a squeal of tires, racing towards Dominic. I’m still a few minutes away, so with shaky hands, I pull my phone out of my pocket and call him. He answers immediately.

“Is something wrong?”

I’m crying too hard to speak clearly, but I manage to say, “Help, I need help. Grigori’s been shot.”

“Where are you?”

The worry and anger in his voice helps steady me. He’ll keep me safe. I know he will.

“I’m driving. I’ll be there in just a few minutes.”

“Don’t hang up. Stay on the phone with me. Just breathe, principessa.”

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