Page 16 of Ivory Ashes

I’m in hiding, after all. A life lived undercover is one where you attract as little attention as possible. No social media, no friends, and definitely no dates.

No matter how many times I’m forced to replace the vibrator in my bedside drawer.

The closest thing I have to a friend is Bianca, and she only comes around when I pay her. So we aren’t close and I definitely shouldn’t be confessing to her that I haven’t been out with a man since the night I got pregnant.

I’ve been too busy running to be with anyone else. Even if I wasn’t, I’d never be able to relax enough to trust them anyway.

No matter how many years pass, I always catch myself looking over my shoulder. I expect to see Mikhail Novikov walking right towards me. I’ve been looking for you, Viviana, he’d purr in that darkly delicious voice of his.

Some days, it’s a nightmare.

Other days—mostly nights—it’s a fantasy.

But this morning, I look over my shoulder and see Dante padding down the hall in bright yellow rain boots, a fuzzy bear sweatshirt, and a superhero mask. He grins. “I picked out my own clothes.”

“You’re kidding. You put together this fabulous outfit?” I reach for his hand and twirl him around until he giggles. “This look could be on a runway somewhere.”

“What’s a runway?” he asks, adorable face squished in a frown.

I hustle him towards the door. “I’ll tell you on the walk. We’re late.”

He forgets the question the moment we’re in the hall because he’s too absorbed in racing me down the four flights of stairs to our apartment lobby. His boots clomp gracelessly down the steps while I lock up.

“Don’t open the front door!” I yell after him. “Wait for me at the mailboxes.”

When we first moved to New York, Dante was an infant. I kept him strapped to my chest, tucked away neatly in the stroller I got secondhand from some hooded man in a back alley. For months and months, he was never out of arm’s reach.

Now, the only time he wants to be within arm’s reach of me is when I’m pretending to be Mrs. Ticklepus, an eight-armed octopus who likes to tickle him before bedtime.

I’ve had to learn to give him his space. To let him explore. It wasn’t an easy process.

It helps that even my father doesn’t know where we live. In a city of over eight million people, we might as well be invisible. I can afford to loosen his leash.

A little.

“There she is,” a deep voice says from behind me.

I jolt in surprise, dropping my keys to the cracked tile floor.

My neighbor Tommy hurries across our narrow landing to pick it up for me. “Sorry, neighbor. I was just happy to see you. It’s been a hot minute.”

“A few hot minutes,” I say, smiling as he hands me my key. “How’s it going?”

His hand lingers on the other end of the key a bit longer than necessary. “Better now.”

Tommy is nice. Cute, too, in a buttoned-up, door-to-door Bible salesman kind of way. He has bright blonde hair, a friendly face, and the personality to match. The day he moved in three years ago, he gave everyone in the building a plate of cookies.

“Mama, I’m going to beat you!” Dante’s voice echoes up the stairwell.

Tommy shoves his hands in his pockets. “Sounds like I interrupted your race.”

“You did. I would have absolutely crushed him if you hadn’t gotten in my way.”

Tommy laughs and runs a nervous hand through his hair. I know what’s coming next. “So?—”

“I better—” I hitch a thumb towards the stairs. “Before he escapes.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, I’ll walk you down.”

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