Page 73 of Heritage of Fire

Luna’s lips curl into a snarl—a look I’ve never seen on her before. “I want to know?—”

“Get off or I will remove youmyself,” the man booms.

“Touch her, and Iwillsplit you in half,” I say calmly, stepping farther into the elevator to offer Luna my hand. She hesitates to take it. Her eyes plead with mine, then flick to her sister to do the same.

The man huffs out a breath of impatience, like this whole encounter is a waste of his time. He brings the girls under his arms.

“I’ll text you.” Isabella smiles what seems to be a genuine smile, and Luna finally takes my hand, nodding at her sister.

She’s shaking, and I can tell she’s uncomfortable leaving her sister, but I manage to pull her off the elevator before the doors close. When they smack together, Luna flips.

“Nik, I have to go get her. She’s seventeen with a man triple her age. What is she even doing with him? And school? I don’t go to school with her, I’m her sister. What is she thinking?—”

“Luna.” My tone is stern, and her voice falters while her shoulders slump. “I’ll make a call.”

She lets out a sigh of relief and barrels into me for a hug I’m not prepared for. I swallow, trying to ease the unidentifiable baseball-size emotion down my throat.

I text Igor to have him check cameras in this building and to trace Isabella Buscetta’s movements back to determine where she came from.

I take Luna’s hand and lead her to the glass doors of the restaurant.

Despite her concerned mood, I can tell she’s impressed by the art deco interior. Cozy chandeliers with soft ambient lighting illuminate the midcentury modern booths and tables. Floor-to-ceiling windows encircle the entire restaurant, allowing for a panoramic view of the city skyline. The gentle hum of conversation overpowers the classical background music.

“Mr. Balakin,” the maître d’ says. “Your table is ready, sir.”

I nod and guide Luna toward our table, noticing her gaze keeps flicking back to the elevator every so often. Once we’re seated and have ordered drinks, I check my phone and then leave it face up on the table so I won’t miss any messages about Isabella.

Luna pulls out her phone as well and types a message. Her hands wring together when she sets it down, eyes etched with worry, and I want to track down that asshole—who’s wining and dining underage women—and run his face into a concrete wall.

Fiddling with the embossed logo on the menu, Luna sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m worried and probably won’t be a very?—”

The table vibrates on Luna’s side and her hand darts out to snatch her phone. Her eyes fly over the screen as she reads, and her lips purse.

“She says those girls are friends she goes out with, and the man is someone they met at a club a different night. Apparently,he promised to take them out for a fancy meal before they went to another club. He doesn’t know her last name and she was trying to keep it that way.”

She slams the phone on the table, loud enough that the couple next to us look over. I shoot them a weak smile as Luna crosses her hands over her chest, a snarl on her face. For all she tries, even a snarl is gorgeous on her.

“It’s dangerous, Nik. She’s the same age I was when …”

Her voice trails off, and she shivers. I reach across the table and hold my hand out for hers. Untangling her arms, she places her palm in mine. It’s warm and clammy, but her soft skin feels like heaven—I don’t think I’ll ever get enough. Unfortunately, my phone goes off and I have to pull away too soon.

A text from Igor backs up what Isabella had messaged. She and her friends met the man here before going to a new private club on Billionaire’s Row. Seems like Salvatore’s plan to keep his daughters locked away has backfired.

After thanking Igor and giving him have the rest of the night off, I relay the information to Luna. Even though her spirits pick up during our meal, an undercurrent of worry hovers between us.

Now that she’s has laughed and smiled with me, sharing sides of herself I’m positive no one else has seen, I want more. But what if don’t get more? Unease punches through me, the nearly perfect and overpriced plate of food churning in my gut.

What if she leaves? What if I can’t travel as much as she wants? She’s still young and could choose to want more for her life. Would I force her to stay because of the contract? I’m not sure I could do that to her.

Meeting her at the altar on our wedding day seems like a lifetime ago. But does the time really matter? I’ve let myself fall in too deep with someone who was only supposed to be part of my job—a duty for my brothers and the Bratva.

I stiffen, suddenly annoyed at myself.

By the time we leave the restaurant, both of us have fallen silent. Tension drifts taut in the air around us.

In the elevator, Luna’s eyes find a home staring at the floor, and I occupy the empty space behind her. When the doors open, another couple gets on. Both are older, probably midfifties. Their hands are clasped, and the woman leans into the man, her chin on his shoulder. Her eyes beam up at him, and his wrinkles bunch together as he smiles back at her.

I step up beside Luna, watching as she offers the couple a half smile, resignation further dousing her expression. Her eyes flick to me, and I meet her gaze.I’ve failed somehow.The thought settles over me, an ugly impression stomping on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

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