Page 48 of The Mafia's Quadruplets

After dinner, we move to the living room. Claire curls up on the couch with her book, while I pretend to work on my laptop. In reality, I’m watching her, cataloging every expression that flits across her face as she reads.

“Valerian?” Claire’s voice breaks through my reverie.

“Hmm?”

She hesitates, biting her lower lip. “I was wondering...my debt is getting closer to being paid off.”

My heart rate spikes. This is it. The conversation I’ve been dreading. “Yes, it is,” I say, keeping my voice neutral.

“What happens then?” She’s looking for answers I’m not ready to give.

I close my laptop, buying time to formulate a response. “That’s up to you. You’ll be free to go, if that’s what you want.”

She nods slowly, her gaze dropping to her book. “And if I don’t want to go?”

The words hang in the air between us, heavy with inferences. I struggle to maintain my composure, to not reveal how much her question affects me. “Then you’d be welcome to stay,” I say carefully, “But I wouldn’t want you to feel obligated.”

She sets aside her book, moving closer to me on the couch. “Valerian, I?—”

The shrill ring of my phone cuts through the moment. I curse internally as I check the caller ID. It’s Dmitri.

“I have to take this,” I say, standing abruptly. “We’ll finish this conversation later.”

As I walk away to answer the call, I swear I feel Claire’s gaze on my back. What’s left unsaid between us is almost unbearable.

Dmitri’s news is urgent. The Petrov Syndicate is making a move, targeting one of our shipments. I spend the next hour coordinating our response, pushing thoughts of Claire to the back of my mind.

When I finally return to the living room, she’s gone. A note on the coffee table waits for me.

“Went to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow. — C”

I crumple the note in my fist, frustration coursing through me. Another missed opportunity, another moment lost to the demands of my world. As I pour myself a glass of whiskey, I stare out the window at the city lights. Claire deserves better than this half-life I’m offering her. She deserves someone who can give her stability and a future untainted by violence and danger.

Yet the thought of letting her go is unbearable. I’ve never needed anyone the way I need her. She’s become my anchor in a storm-tossed sea, my one true north in a world of shifting loyalties.

I down the whiskey in one gulp, relishing the burn. Tomorrow, I tell myself. Tomorrow, I’ll find the words to tell her how I feel. Tomorrow, I’ll ask her to stay, not out of obligation, but because she wants to. Part of me doubts I’ll find the right words or even the courage to broach the subject again for now.

The days passin a blur of long nights and early mornings. Claire’s presence in my life has become a constant, her warmth a balm to the cold reality of my world. Our relationship remains undefined, existing in a limbo of passion and unspoken feelings.

I sit at my desk, reviewing reports on the Steele merger when a knock at the door interrupts my thoughts. “Come in,” I call out, not looking up from the papers.

The door opens, and she enters the room. I lift my gaze, taking in the sight of her. She’s wearing a simple sundress, and her hair is loose around her shoulders. “I brought you some coffee,” she says, placing a steaming mug on my desk. “You’ve been working for hours.”

The gesture catches me by surprise. It’s so...domestic. Normal. “Thank you,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend.

Claire lingers, tracing patterns on the polished wood of my desk. “I was thinking...maybe we could go for a walk later? The weather’s nice, and you could use a break.”

I glance at the stack of papers and endless emails waiting for responses. My first instinct is to decline, to bury myself in work as I’ve always done, but something in Claire’s hopeful expression makes me pause.

“That sounds...nice. Give me an hour to wrap this up?”

Claire’s smile is radiant. “Perfect. I’ll be in the garden.”

As she leaves, I catch myself smiling. When was the last time I took a break just to enjoy the day? I can’t remember.

True to my word, an hour later, I find Claire in the garden. She’s sitting on a bench, her face tilted up to catch the sun. For a moment, I simply watch her, marveling at how she’s managed to carve out a space for herself in my world.

“Ready?” I ask, approaching her.

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