Page 48 of Frequency of Attraction

“Tell me how you found Mila.”

“I didn’t. I found a private investigator who found her.”

A shadow seemed to pass over his face. “Do you think he’d help them find Annika?”

“He tried. But we can always ask him to keep trying. I’m happy to—”

“Quinn, you’ve done enough. More than enough. I can take it from here.”

Quinn nodded and took her phone out of her purse to text Vadim the man’s number. He took his phone out in response. A grin split his face as he read a text that couldn’t be hers. After a moment, he handed his phone to Quinn.

Baba Mila had sent a photo of little Mila, who had drawn patterns and pictures all over her arms with marker. Her bright-eyed grin resembled Vadim’s.To match her Papa. P.S. She didn’t get in trouble this time.

Quinn smiled, her heart squeezing. “I’m so glad this worked out.”

He took his phone back, eyes meeting hers. “You’ll let me buy dinner, right? Really, I owe you a lifetime of dinners for this.”

The sentiment sent shockwaves through her. He didn’t mean a literal lifetime, she reminded herself, but her heart wanted to believe he did. She wanted to believe that the brick walls they’d both built against love were crumbling for him, too. Quinn didn’t know if she could school her face, so she sighed in relief when he abruptly got up to use the restroom.

He didn’t return for a long time.

Her fries had gone cold, but she ate them anyway for something to focus on.

He came back and dropped into his chair ungracefully. His hand crept toward hers on the table until their fingertips touched, stuttering her heart a second time. “Quinn, I—”

“Sorry to interrupt.” An uncomfortable-looking server appeared at their table.

Vadim’s stormy expression probably made the man sorrier. “Yes?”

The server pressed his thin lips together and looked away. “So…”

“What is it?” Vadim urged. His already loud volume was escalating.

He paled. “We have a patron who thinks you may have mistakenly taken her credit card.”

Quinn had to run the statement through her brain a few times before the words sunk in. Vadim’s jaw snapped shut audibly. She could hear his teeth grinding. She peered around the server and saw an elderly woman several tables away darting looks their way. She had stiff posture and a haughty look on her overly made-up face. “No one mistakenly takes a credit card. You’re accusing us of stealing, or she is.”

“She is.” The server threw her under the bus without compunction.

She could tell by the resigned look on Vadim’s face that it wasn’t the first time he’d been judged this way. Rage shot through Quinn like a bullet. “That’s her, yes?” She didn’t wait for the server’s answer as she stalked over to the woman’s table.

The server let out a strangled noise as he followed. “Miss!”

The woman’s posture straightened as she got closer.

“Stealing your credit card? Really?” Quinn snapped.

“My card was there and now it’s not, and I saw that man walk by!”

Another server rushed up. “What’s going on?”

“That criminal over there stole my credit card!”

The new server looked panicked. “What? No, I saw your card on the table and ran it. I said something to you, but maybe you didn’t hear me?”

The lady had hearing aids, Quinn noticed. That didn’t excuse her behavior. And Quinn wasn’t done. “Criminal? Because of some muscles? Some tattoos? You havenoidea who we are.”

An arm slid around her waist. She glanced back to see Vadim, who, surprisingly, had a smirk on his face. “Let’s go,petite sauvage. I paid for our dinner already, with my own card.”

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