Page 45 of Cashmere Cruelty

For a moment, Matvey’s silent. I’m wondering if I didn’t push too hard—if this isn’t the moment I discover just how unpleasant this man can make it for me here—when, to my surprise, he nods. “Fair enough. Supervised visits, in the lobby. Planned in advance.”

Just like prison.Joy.

“Alright.”

“And everyone gets vetted.”

Is that Bratva code for ‘stalked and interrogated’?I decide not to press. I don’t think June will mind if the mob unearths her parking tickets. “Okay. Second, I get to keep working.”

“Absolutely not,” Matvey growls.

I hold up a hand. “I don’t need to go to the shop,” I tell him. “I can work from here. But I’ll need Elias to bring work to me.”

He pauses. “That’s your boss from the shop?”

“That’s him. I believe he did your final fitting for you.”

I can see his teeth gritting. He isn’t liking this one bit, is he? “Fine. But only part-time.”

“Part-time’s good,” I agree. “One last thing, then.”

Forget seeing: I canhearhis teeth gritting this time. “What else could you possibly want?” Matvey all but snarls.

“You.”

For the first time in the whole evening, I’m treated to the sight of a speechless Matvey Groza. “Come again?”

“I’ll be here twenty-four-seven,” I state, matter-of-factly. “Endlessly available to you.” I push my phone across the table. “So I’ll expect you to be available to me, too.”

He stares at my phone. Then, suddenly, he grins. “If you wanted my number, Ms. Flowers, all you had to do was ask.”

Don’t slap the father of your child, April. He’s stronger than you and he’s got guns.

Then Matvey plucks something from his pocket and slides it across in return. I take it.

“A burner phone?” I blink.

Matvey nods, that shit-eating grin still firmly planted on his face. “I wasn’t going to leave you without a way to reach me, April. Though I did enjoy how forward you were just now.”

Don’t hit the mobster, April. Donot?—

He rises before I do something regrettable. I do the same. It seems that family dinner’s come to an end.

And not a moment too soon.

“Well then,” he says, taking my hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Then, out of the blue, hekisses it.

I can’t move. I can’t think. I can’tbreathe.My face turns into a hot plate. You could cook an egg on it: that’s how searing it feels.

“Goodnight,” Matvey croons, still grinning like a wolf.

I force myself to inhale. “Goodnight,” I echo in a whisper, trying not to sway from how lightheaded I’m feeling.

Then he’s out.

As soon as I hear his steps fading in the corridor, I slump against the door, cradling my face in my hands. Myhands. One of which hekissed.

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