Page 73 of Inked Adonis

We turn onto a street that makes my chest squeeze tight. I know every crack in these sidewalks. Every faded awning. This was my escape route when home got too suffocating—past Mario’s bodega, around the corner from St. Viator’s, and straight to...

Oh.

The convoy of black SUVs pulls up to the weathered brick building of the Chicago Animal Haven. My sanctuary. The place that saved me when I was healing from the dog attack, when I was running from my father’s house, when I needed somewhere to pour my love that wouldn’t use it as a weapon.

How does Sam know about this place?

More importantly—why would he bring me here?

Sam kills the engine but doesn’t move to get out. Instead, he turns those storm-gray eyes on me.

“This is your favorite place in Chicago,” he says. Not a question.

My throat locks up. “Been doing your homework on me?”

“Always.” His bluntness shouldn’t make my pulse skip, but it does. “You volunteered here every Saturday for eight years. Started when you were fifteen. You’d walk three miles each way because your father wouldn’t drive you.”

The fact that he knows these details about my past—details I never told him—should terrify me. Instead, I’m caught between wanting to slap him and wanting to ask what else he knows about the girl I used to be.

“If this is some kind of power play?—”

“Nova.” He cuts me off, voice soft but firm. “Let’s go inside.”

I glance in the side mirror. Myles has positioned his SUV to block the street, while two other security guys I don’t recognize are already doing a perimeter check. It’s like watching a military operation just to visit a bunch of homeless pets.

“What’s with the entourage?” I ask. “Worried some aggressive chihuahuas might make a move on the big, bad Bratva boss?”

His mouth quirks. “You’d be surprised what some people would do to get to me.”

He exits the car and comes around to my side, opening my door with that old-world courtesy that always throws me off balance.As if I’m some precious thing to be protected, not a prisoner being escorted to her next holding cell.

Even if that cell happens to be my favorite place in the world.

The shelter’s front door chimes just like always, unleashing the familiar cacophony of barking and meowing that used to be my favorite soundtrack. Susan Chen, the shelter director who’s run this place since I was a scared teenager seeking refuge, looks up from the front desk.

“Nova! My sweet little angel, you look exactly like I remember you did back when—” Her face lights up with her usual warmth, then freezes as Sam steps in behind me. “Oh. Mr. Litvinov. I—I wasn’t expecting you today.”

The change in her demeanor is a brutal record scratch. Gone is the chatty woman who used to share her lunch with me and tell me stories about each animal. In her place is someone almost painfully professional, her spine straight as a ruler.

“Mrs. Chen.” Sam nods, and somehow, even that small gesture carries the weight of command. “How are the renovations coming along?”

Renovations? I scan the lobby, really seeing it for the first time. Now that he mentions it, the signs of newness are everywhere. The scuffed linoleum I remember has been replaced with clean tile. New kennels line the walls, the metal gleaming. Even the air smells fresher.

That’s when I spot it. The bronze plaque mounted beside the intake area:

“Chicago Animal Haven

Renovated through the generous support of the Litvinov Group”

My head snaps toward Sam. He’s watching me, his expression unreadable except for a slight tightness around his eyes.

“I’ve owned the building for three years,” he says matter-of-factly, as if commenting on the weather. “And before you ask, no, it’s not profitable. The rent they pay barely covers utilities.”

He says it without an ounce of emotion, like it’s just another business transaction. Like he didn’t just reveal that he’s been quietly supporting my safe haven long before he knew me.

Somehow, that makes it mean so much more.

“Let me show you around,” Susan says, but her eyes flick to Sam for permission. When he nods, she leads us past the public areas into the quarantine section where they keep the more challenging cases.

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