Page 60 of Triplets for the Russian Boss

“Relax,” I reply. “I’ll be back when I said I would. I don’t want to leave my boys for that long. I already miss them like crazy.”

“And they miss you too. They’re always crying.”

“Jax doesn’t cry that much,” I say, trying to make myself feel less guilty than I already do.

“He doesn’t but now he is,” she replies. “They really do miss you.”

“Mama is coming home soon enough. I promise,” I say. “Tell them not to worry.”

“They won’t be able to understand me.”

“Tell them anyway.”

“Okay, but I think I’m still going to worry about you.”

I laugh. “You weren’t worried when I was working nights at the club.”

“Because I knew where you were, and I had a number to call if you didn’t come home.”

“You still have a number,” I remind her. “This one.”

“Yeah, but no address.”

To be honest, I don’t have the address either. All I know is that I’m in California, far away from where Kate probably assumes I am. Home is a long flight across the country, but it wouldn’t really make a difference where I was, since I’m not allowed to step out of the headquarters until my contract is over.

I sigh. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Tell the boys that I love them.”

“Alright, I’ll see you.”

“Bye.”

I hang up the phone and return it to the bottom drawer of my dresser. Kate is always worried, but I feel perfectly safe at Kostin’s Mafia headquarters. There’re always a dozen armed guards in the hallway, and you’d have to punch in a password just to get onto the property.

Today, I plan on doing a bit of sunbathing in the backyard. It’s boxed in with an iron gate, so I’m allowed to roam freely back there. I’ll throw a towel down and catch some rays. Being inside all day is bad for you. I need some vitamin D, and not just the kind that Kostin can give me.

I dress in the same bikini that I wear when I’m swimming laps. I need to remind Kostin to buy me a one-piece, so that it doesn’t come loose when I’m in the water. He might think it’s cute, but it’s a major inconvenience.

I grab a regular towel from the bathroom, cringing at the fact that I’m going to get grass stains on it, but Kostin doesn’t have anything but thick white cotton towels in his headquarters. I haven’t been able to find a single old beach towel the entire time I’ve been here.

Maybe his brother took all of them. Kostin mentioned something about being in the Cayman Islands for vacation.

I wander down the hallway, taking my time getting to the back of the building. I’ve never really stopped to look at the art that Kostin has up in this place. Some of it’s rather nice, and I’m quite partial to oil paintings. If Kostin is the one who picked these out, he has good taste.

I’m a little sad that I don’t know more about Kostin. He likes to keep things a mystery, and when he does reveal something about himself, it’s usually not very personal. I want to know him more, but perhaps it’s better that I don’t. Falling in love would spell trouble when my contract ends.

I try not to think about the fact that I’m already starting to fall for him, as I head out to the backyard. He’s got this charm that’s difficult to escape, and even when he’s not being nice, there’s an element of play to his attitude. It’s hard to be genuinely mad at him.

Outside, the sun is shining, and I can hear a robin speaking its piece in one of the many oak trees on the property. I pick a spot that isn’t shaded by leaves and try to ignore the sunglass-wearing guards standing by the building, with their hands clasped in front of them. I can’t see their eyes, but I’m certain they’re staring at me.

The towel soaks up some moisture from the ground, but it isn’t a lot due to the summer heat. It gets dry in California. While that’s bad for the lawn, that’s good for me. I’m glad Kostin doesn’t have sprinklers in his backyard.

I recline on the towel, breathing out a sigh of relief as my body settles into the flat ground. There’s a yoga pose called the Corpse Pose, which I’m mimicking as I close my eyes and let my body relax fully.

Perhaps I imitated the pose too well, though, because a loud thud and the deep barking shout of the guards causes my eyes to fly open.

“Get down!”

I lay back down just in time to miss another bullet. I hear the pop of gunshots, and the squeal of tires from just outside the iron gate. We’re under attack, and I came inches from catching a piece of metal in my brain.

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