Page 37 of Heritage of Blood

“Have you fallen yet?” Nik’s question snaps me out of thought.

“Nikolai,” I say with warning.

“Luka,” Nik sighs. “Why is she still here? I’m struggling to find the purpose of keeping her here.”

Because I want her here. Because after six months of those mesmerizing blue eyes chasing away my nightmares of dying, I found her. I have to know her.

I stomp down the unwelcome thought before it can go any further.

I’m weak. Using Antonio’s involvement with her mother as an excuse.

I don’t dare tell Nik that I’ve had nightmares of being shot consistently since the incident. I don’t mention these nightmares include the three men that died on my watch. While I shouldn’t care, should view them as a commodity to be used to further the Bratva’s mission, it eats away at me.

I can’t tell him that when I first saw Kate again, the mirage of the woman kneeling over me in my nightmares finally became clear—I knew it was her face I saw.

No, I don’t say any of that.

“I can do whatever the hell I want with her. Go get her.”

* * *

Kate

“I can do whatever the hell I want with her. Go get her.”

Those words stop me in my tracks near Luka’s office door. I left the terrace to come in to grab something to eat.

Ilena was more than happy to add some of my requests to her weekly grocery shopping. I told her I was far from picky. Having been limited to an outrageously small grocery budget in order to save more, I was used to ramen, canned tuna, and pickles. When I told her a few simple items, she gave me a reprimanding frown.

“Mr. Morozov said you are to have whatever you need. I make much Russian food for him, but you tell me what you like, yeah?”

I gave her a small list and thanked her. Unfortunately, that list included some personal hygiene products that I need, but Ilena didn’t blink an eye. She smiled and patted my cheek.

“Good, I go tomorrow.”

While snacking on the dill pickles Ilena had picked up for me, I heard two voices from down the hallway. I wasn’t used to seeing anyone other than Ilena and occasionally Luka in the penthouse. Curiosity got the better of me, and I tiptoed toward the door. That’s when I heard Luka’s voice.

“… whatever the hell I want.”

I struggle with what to think of Luka. He is detached and reserved. Brief moments of vulnerability, similar to earlier, are swept under the rug in favor of the emotionless asshole I hear now.

“Go get her.”

Those words finally catch up in my brain, and I turn to flee as the door opens and the blond man, Nik, runs right into me. His hands shoot out to my shoulders to steady me, and he raises his eyebrows at me.

“Wow, Boss, I’m good at my job. Got her.” His sarcastic tone is anything but subtle, and I narrow my eyes at him, earning a smirk. He steps aside, and Luka’s gaze hits me. He is sitting behind his desk, arms crossed, looking less than thrilled.

I take a few steps into the office, my eyes unable to focus on one thing. This room is not the same as the rest of the penthouse. Where marble and luxury engulf the penthouse, leather and wood mark this space. I catch a whiff of a woodsy scent with citrus undertones, something that I’ve become accustomed to in the penthouse, but it’s stronger in here. Luka’s alluring scent beckons me closer, and I find myself walking toward the desk with little apprehension.

“Sit.” His deep timbre slides low and my belly clenches. I’m temporarily stunned with discomfort—I can’t move.

“Kate,” he says.

“Hmm?”

“Sit.”

I collapse in the chair, still unable to snatch my gaze away from him, and he is staring back.

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