Page 36 of Dark Prince

Lev breaks the silence, his tone serious: “Luk, we've got to find out how deep Sharon’s involvement is in all of this. We may need to warn Maura.”

I nod, thinking the same thing. “Absolutely. But we're going to be smart about this, Lev. We need to approach it in the right way. No diving headfirst without a solid plan.”

Understanding passes between us, a silent vow that we'll do everything in our power to keep Maura out of harm's way. Whatever it takes.

I sit back and scan the room, eyeing the pub's patrons for any sign of hidden threats or alliances.

My gaze lands on a group photo hanging on the wall, a momentary distraction before my thoughts realign. “All right. We lay low but pass this information along to security and tell them to up their surveillance without making Maura suspect anything’s amiss. It's about her feeling safe, not trapped.”

We talk strategy and how to tighten the security net around Maura without her feeling the squeeze. It's a fine line to walk, motivated by the deep-seated need to protect the woman I have come to love without suffocating her spirit. I’ve finally admitted to myself the depth of my feelings for her, and that admittance has only bolstered my protective instincts.

Rising to leave, my mind is on Maura, picturing her laugh and the way her eyes light up in amusement. The thought of her safety, her happiness, her everything propels me forward, ready to face whatever comes our way. Lev's steady support and our brotherly bond feel like a solid anchor as we head out into the evening, the city's distant noises a backdrop to our shared purpose.

“Whatever it takes,” I reaffirm aloud, the words echoing in the cool night air.

Chapter 21

Maura

The sunlight sneaks in through the boutique's huge windows, throwing a cozy glow over the fancy clothes within. Elena and I are strolling through the place, arms linked, pretending everything's normal for a minute. It’d taken some serious convincing for Luk to let me out of the house, and only on the condition that a pair of hulking bodyguards accompany Elena and me.

But even with our giggles and the sound of hangers clicking, there's still a feeling hovering over me like a shadow, one that's been tailing me ever since I became Maura Ivanova.

Elena doesn’t know that I’m using part of our outing to sneak off to see Frank, the lawyer. I feel guilty for not looping her in, but it’s something I must do alone.

“He's just worried that you could be hurt again,” Elena says. Her voice cuts into my thoughts, her tone breezy in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Luk’s not trying to be controlling. He’s genuinely concerned about you.”

I run my fingers over a silky baby blue dress. It feels as if it’s made of water. “Yes, I know he’s not trying to be a dictator or anything like that,” I say, the words tasting sour. “I just hate feeling caged in, even if the cage is a really nice one.”

Elena grabs a satin scarf, wraps it around her neck, and looks at me past her reflection in a mirror. “The more he cares, the more he’s going to worry, and the more he worries, the tighter he’s going to hold on.”

There’s a beat where her words truly sink in. I’ve seen the way Luk looks at me, all tender and gentle-like, a total 180 from the tough guy he shows the rest of the world. “I only wish he could understand that I need a bit of space, a chance to breathe,” I half-whisper, talking to myself more than Elena.

Elena faces me; her expression is serious. “He understands more than you think. But every time you head out that door, it’s like his world stops. Don’t you see? It’s not about keeping you on a leash. It’s about something happening to you, Maura. It’s a fear that he can’t overcome.”

That’s when it hits me how deep Luk’s affection reaches, an affection that would start wars or burn down cities just to keep me safe. I can see how scared he is, and I understand now how far he’d go to protect me.

“We’re going to figure this out,” Elena says, her voice gentle and sure. “Together, we’ll show him you can be both safe and free.”

Her words help smooth over the rough spots in my heart. As we keep shopping, letting the laughter creep back in, I start to feel a bit of hope. Maybe she’s right; maybe there is a way to balance safety and freedom. Maybe Luk and I can walk this tricky path side by side, finding our way back to each other along the way.

In a heartbeat, Elena's vibe shifts from sisterly advice-giver to chief fun coordinator. “You know what? Let's take a breather from this shopping marathon. I'm starving, and I bet you are, too,” she declares, her eyes looking for an escape route from the endless sea of luxury goods.

Grateful for the distraction, I nod eagerly. “Food sounds amazing right now.”

We weave our way out of the boutique, laughter and light banter leading us down the Miracle Mile. The street is buzzing with energy, a symphony of honking cars, chattering pedestrians, and the distant hum of music. It feels good to be out here, away from the stuffiness of high-end shops, breathing in the city’s vibrant, spirited life.

Elena points ahead, her excitement tangible. “There! That place has the cutest little outdoor seating.”

We snag a table outside, the mild breeze a pleasant companion to our meal. As we peruse the menu, I can't help but feel a wave of gratitude for Elena's presence. She's a breath of fresh air, pulling me out of the spiral of worry and anxiety that's become my norm. I’m so comfortable and having so much fun that I can almost ignore the huge, suited bodyguards posted nearby. Almost.

Elena's enthusiasm for the menu manages to distract me for a moment. “The quiche here is legendary,” she insists, her eyes sparkling with the kind of excitement usually reserved for major life events, and I can’t help but smile. I nod, trying to muster the same level of enthusiasm while my brain is doing mental gymnastics, planning my escape to see Frank Dreschel. I need to play this just right.

The moment I start to relax, thinking I might actually pull it off, my stomach decides to betray me. It's like a sudden squall at sea—calm one minute, turbulent the next. I clamp my mouth shut, willing the nausea to pass.

Elena's sharp, and nothing gets past her. My feeble attempt at covering the nausea is a complete failure. “Are you all right?” she asks, searching my face, her expression one of legitimate concern.

I force a laugh, hoping it sounds more convincing than it feels. “Absolutely,” I lie through my teeth. “I guess my stomach didn't get the memo about today's caffeine limit.” It's a flimsy excuse, but it's all I've got, and seeing as we stopped for coffee before shopping, I hoped it would suffice.

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