Page 173 of Wicked Proposal
Time slips through my fingers. I have no idea how long I spend staring at the screen, lost in the image of Mia and her son.
Smiling.
Happy.
Safe.
“I need to make a phone call.”
Nikita doesn’t say anything. She knows better than to get in the way when I’m like this. Dark, rumbling thunderclouds are gathering above my head, a storm in the making.
I walk out into the balcony and dial Maks’s number.
“Calling again so soon?” Maksim laughs on the other end of the line. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were growing soft on me, boss.”
“Shut up,” I say. “I need you to put guards around Mia’s building. Better yet, make it the whole fucking block.”
He curses under his breath in Russian. “We’re in the endgame, then?”
“The end of the endgame.”
“Then you’d better hurry. Move up our schedule, set a date with Mia for an engagement party or?—”
“No.”
Maks falls silent for a moment. “‘No’?”
If what Nikita said is true, then I can no longer take the risk of involving Mia. Things have officially become too dangerous—too unpredictable.
I thought I could stomach putting her on the line. Told myself I’d be able to protect her again. But if things are at this stage, then…
This time, Prizrak won’t miss.
And I can’t do it. I can’t sacrifice her on the altar of my revenge. I can’t let her son grow up an orphan.
I can’t let him turn intome.
“I’m letting Mia go.” The words claw my throat to ribbons on the way out. “Tomorrow night.”
For a long while, my second-in-command doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. I can hear his disappointment through the line.
So be it. I’d rather be weak than a coward. I won’t spend one more second hiding behind a single mother’s skirts to draw my enemies to me.
Revenge be damned.
Eventually, Maksim finds his voice again. “That’s your choice, then?”
“That’s my choice.”
More silence. “Very well.” He clears his throat. “I’ll arrange the perimeter.”
Then he hangs up.
I walk back inside and toss Nikita a spare burner phone. “Stay inside,” I warn. “If anything happens, call me.”
“You’re going out?”
I can’t stay one more second cooped up like this. If I do, I risk shattering every piece of furniture in my penthouse. I need to clear my head—tohitsomething. Someone. Anything.
