Page 198 of Wicked Proposal
And then we head off.
61
YULIAN
The Goldenrod’s gardens aren’t in bloom right now, but they might as well be.
Because Mia makes everything around her look alive.
She steps out into the grounds with wide eyes, her royal blue dress puffing as she twirls. “This is…”
Beautiful.Not the gardens, not the decorations—her.She’s everything I’ve ever wanted and didn’t know I needed.
And tonight, she might die.
I took every precaution. Picked a terrain I was comfortable with, one I know like the back of my hand. My men have secured this place a thousand times before. Tonight, I’ve tasked the best soldier I know with their leadership, the quickest draw and smartest head.
“How’s Nikita doing?” I whisper to Maksim as we let the girls overtake us.
“She’s practically performed a colonoscopy on this place. Every exit is as secure as Fort Knox.”
“Fort Knox was broken into.”
“Yeah, by her. And they still haven’t got a clue.”
I shake my head and check my phone. No messages from her. Her GPS is green and bright on the map, along with everybody else’s, a sea of dots guarding us from the inside and out. We’ve never had security this strong in the history of the Lozhkin Bratva.
Which is exactly what makes me so fucking nervous.
“Relax,” Maksim murmurs. “You’ll give yourself away like this.”
I hate that he’s right.
Slowly, I exhale and force myself to regain control. The worst thing I can do right now is bleed my anxiety onto Mia. If she catches my worry—if she demands an explanation—then I’m fucked.
She won’t be satisfied with half-answers. She’ll demand the truth.
And I can never give her that.
“Yulian!” Mia calls. “Come take a look at this!”
I stride into the garden. My men are already buzzing around, excited about the ceremony, but they all give Mia and Kallie a respectful berth.
Predictably, Nikita is nowhere to be seen.
“Look!” Mia grins, pointing excitedly at a tree branch. “I’ve never seen a fruit like this before. What do you think it is?”
I pick the round, brownish fruit from the branch. “Foxish pear,” I answer. “It’s not native to here. The Goldenrod prides itself on its orchard of ancient fruit.”
“That sounds like such a rich people thing to do.”
“It is.” My lips curve without my permission. I’ve never met someone as painfully honest as Mia—not as long as I’ve lived. “Want a bite?”
“Wait, it’sedible?”
“It’s fruit. It’s not there to be looked at.”
Then I push the pear towards her lips.
