Page 177 of Lethal Torture
“This is yours?” I stare up at him, barely able to get the words out.
Luke’s mouth curves in the smile I love. “Ours,” he says quietly. “I hope you like it.” When I don’t answer, his smile fades slightly. “I’ve had the inside renovated,” he says, “but I’ve kept all the original features. You can change it, of course—”
Throwing my arms around his neck, I kiss him, on and on, until the crowd around us starts whooping and cheering.
“Way to go, McTasty,” calls Charlie from somewhere in the crowd, and they all erupt in laughter.
“McTasty?” I hear Tommo saying, laughing fit to burst. “Oh, I’m usingthat.”
“Golly,” Enzo says dryly. “Thunderbolt city.”
“Four Weddings and a Funeral,” chorus Charlie and Nadja.
When I finally pull away, Luke’s eyes gleam like the Australian sea, and the coiffure Darya worked so hard on is already beginning to come loose. “I love it,” I say, looking mistily up at him. “I love everything about this, Captain Macarthur.”
“Hey, princess.” He grins at me. “You’re welcome.”
He turns me around to face our audience, and I swallow another urge to cry as I see Roman and Darya beaming back at me, juggling their twins. Darya’s father, Sergei, is leaning on a cane, supported by Rosa, his wife, with a firm hand on Aleksander. Abby and Dimitry are next to them, with their twoboys. Mak is standing by Leon, Dimitry’s father, both of them looking like an advertisement for a Silver Fox edition ofEsquiremagazine. Alexei Petrovsky, grim faced as ever, is hovering at the back of the crowd with several of the men I recall from the night he came to the Quartier. Some distance away stands an unsmiling Ofelia, looking remote and elegant in black silk, with a slit high enough on one thigh to give Roman a heart attack and wearing dark sunglasses that cover most of her face. Mickey Stevanovsky is leaning up against a table, chatting with Lars Andersson and his youngest sister, Masha, who seems to have become almost a teenager overnight.
Liana and Tommo are standing amid a crowd from London that is comprised of all my inner staff and Luke’s ex-army friends from Macarthur Securities. To my surprise, Dame Agatha Chalmondeley is standing among them, face flushed and looking remarkably pretty in a slim-fitting summer dress. I stifle a very inappropriate laugh at her dimpled smile when Rocco slips through the crowd and hands her an enormous gin and tonic.
“She’s here withRocco?” I murmur to Luke.
“They’ve been hot and heavy ever since the Winter Ball, apparently.” Luke bites his lip to hold back his laughter. “According to Rocco, she has, and I quote, ‘the most fascinating feast I’ve ever eaten.’”
“Oh, dear lord.” I almost spit out my champagne. Enzo waves at me, his other hand firmly in Andrew’s. Formerly Lowbridge’s private secretary, Andrew has recently found a far better appointment as Agatha’s. Lowbridge himself has retained his position, but now exists entirely at Agatha’s pleasure, which no doubt has increased her enjoyment almost as much as Rocco’s tongue.
Sophie walks toward me, hand in hand with Bryan, the young Scottish ex-soldier from Luke’s troop. “I’m so happy to be here,”she says, smiling. Her confidence has grown daily ever since she watched Bryan roll Bogdan Kozlov’s corpse into the North Sea.
“And I’m so glad you’re here.” I kiss her cheeks, holding both her hands in mine.
“Tetya Ana would be so proud of you,” Sophie says quietly. Our eyes meet, and just like that, we’re eight years old again, running through Tetya Ana’s house, playing hide-and-seek.
“And of you.” I squeeze her hands. Sophie has taken over almost all the operations at Sophie’s House and even been featured in several magazines.
She’s also been slowly taking over the Quartier. When I shift my attention completely to Pigalle Madrid, she will take over, and I can’t imagine anyone better suited to the role.
“Bryan is taking me to Malaga tonight,” she says, and her smile warms my heart. “We’re going to have drinks down on the beachfront, then stay in a villa there.”
“How wonderful!” I hug her, then watch them walk away, my heart full of both joy and relief.
Sophie and I have been talking in small pieces, our respective stories unfolding over time. We’re family, but also strangers. We’re bridging the gap slowly but surely.
“Auntie Zin!” Ollie skids to a halt in front of me, his eyes shining as he holds out a glass. “Max an’ me made a special cocktail for you.”
“Well, thank you, Ollie.” Bending down, I take an extremely tentative taste, then my eyes widen. “That’s delicious, Ollie. Seriously. What’s it called?”
Max dashes up beside his brother. “It’s the Spicy Whisper! Remember?”
“I do.” I struggle not to laugh. “And it’s a much improved recipe, boys. Well done.”
“They might have had some help,” Liana says dryly, appearing at their side. “From your friend Paddy.” She nodsat the grinning Irishman beside her, who has his hand firmly clasped around Charlie’s.
“Thought you’d like it,Auntie Zin,” he says, giving me a broad wink.
“Never, ever repeat that,” I warn him.
“Don’t you worry, Zin.” Charlie slaps Paddy briskly on the ass. “I’ll keep him in line. Anatoly sends his love, by the way. He said, and I quote, that ‘someone haf to make sure de place does not fall apart vhile everyone party.’”
