Page 153 of Lethal Legacy

“Hey, Luce.” It’s a small gaggle of girls who have, to my vast relief, recently become Ofelia’s friends. They’re sweet girls she met at the Russian Cultural Center when Masha and Mickey were rehearsing for the Easter parade. Their Russian heritage eases many of the issues that divide Ofelia’s life from that of normal Spanish kids, including the ever-present security detail. Despite the fact that many of them come from significant wealth, they’re all very much normal teenagers. It’s been a relief to see Ofelia drop her previously sophisticated dress, which made her look far older than her years, for simple outfits like the halter top and shorts she’s wearing today. Nothing can disguise the tanned length of her legs or extraordinarily beautiful face, but at least with her hair tied up in a simple ponytail and no makeup, she looks like a beautiful young girl instead of a runway model. She’s just turned sixteen. I don’t even want to think about how stunning she’s going to be in another couple of years.

“Hi, girls.” I give them a little wave. I’ve gotten to know most of their mothers or, in most cases, their nannies or security details. I recently hosted nearly all of them for Ofelia’s sixteenth birthday sleepover, aVampire Diariesmarathon that kept them squealing and crying into the small hours. It was also Ofelia’s first sleepover.

Mine too, for that matter.

A sixteenth might normally be a grander occasion, but Ofelia didn’t want it to be. I think she was more excited about having an actual sleepover than a grand affair in a ballroom. Like most of her friends, she’s lived a very sheltered life, one that hasn’t often involved outsiders.

The apartment has become more of a welcoming space to visitors, but Roman’s penthouse remains strictly off-limits to anyone but family.

Family.

That’s how it’s begun to feel lately. And I love it, but it terrifies me, too.

“Wow.” A couple of girls spot Dimitry walking toward us and giggle nervously. “He’ssohot.”

“Hands off, girls,” says Abby cheerfully, pushing through the crowd and kissing my cheek. “He’s mine.”

“Come on.” Ofelia tugs her friends’ hands. “Dimitry’s boring. Let’s go.”

“Did you hear that, darling? You’re boring.” Abby pulls a face at Dimitry, but he doesn’t smile. He is in work mode, his eyes roaming the plaza nonstop.

“I’ve got five guys around you,” he says to me. “I’ll stay on Ofelia and her friends with my guys.”

“Okay.” I shoot him a smile. “Thank you.”

“Churros,” says Masha, around a mouthful of batter and chocolate. She holds out a sticky fist to Dimitry, who laughs. “Not now, sweetheart. But thank you.” He nods at me and moves off into the crowd.

“You two look cozy.” I give Abby the ghost of a wink.

“So far, so good.” She helps herself to churros. “At least now that I’m working full-time at Pillars, I’m out of that horrible café.”

“I still can’t believe Dimitry agreed to you working there.”

“I think he figured it was the lesser of two evils. After he saw Revolting Pete grope me, he was ready to agree to anything. And Gregor’s a good boss. He pays well, and none of his men grope the staff.”

“Gregor?” I frown. “I thought Nikolai ran Pillars.”

“He’s away. Gregor’s in charge, and he’s a decent bloke. I think that’s why Dimitry got me the job.”

“I’d give anything to have been there when Dimitry knocked Pete out,” I say longingly. “You still haven’t told me exactly what happened.”

“It was magical.” Abby sighs blissfully. “Dimitry came to pick me up. Normally he comes in and waits by the bar for me to finish, but he got a phone call before he left the car. I was cleaning the bar down, and Pete came in to hand out the tips. You know how he does.”

“Oh, I do.” It used to be our daily nightmare.

“So I’m leaning over, picking the bottles up off the shelf—I might have been giving Dimitry a bit of a show,” she adds mischievously, “since I knew he was outside, probably watching me through the window. Pete, however, didn’t get that particular memo. So he pulled his usual trick of pressing right up against me, pretending to reach for a bottle. Gave my ass a good grope while he was at it.”

“Gross.” I shiver. That particular detail is an all-too-familiar experience.

“So the next minute, Dimitry’s literally thrown Pete over the counter, and he’s hit the floor. Right before Dimitry’s fist hit his face. Multiple times. Ah.” She sighs. “It was a beautiful thing, Luce. Wish you’d been there.”

“Me, too.” I savor the image for a moment, moving the chocolate pot away from its precarious perch on the edge of the table. “That’s your last one,” I tell Masha sternly. “Leave some for Abby and me.”

“Full anyhow,” Masha says, giving me a chocolate-smeared grin. “Can we go seelos caballos?” She’s fluent in Spanglish. Sometimes Russian slips in there, which Ofelia likes to call Spanrush.

“We can see the horses in a bit. We’re going to wait for Ofelia to come back. I brought your coloring book.” I clean her up, get some crayons, and leave her to it. Masha will happily color all day.

“So how is it at Pillars?” I ask Abby curiously. “Don’t you see Miguel all the time?”

---