The Parisian Café At The Citadel Outlets
Oh, God.
I can survive anything.
But my baby… someone please protect my baby.
Fear has me paralyzed. My body is hunched over Phoenix as he screams in my ear. Chaos breaks all around me, but the only thing I can hear, apart from my son’s panicked screams, is my own heartbeat.
Is my body trembling? It feels that way. But I don’t feel connected to my physical self any longer. I feel as though I’m floating.
Floating away from my body.
Away from my son.
“Phoenix,” I whisper to him, but my own voice is drowned out by his wailing.
I know that Tamara is close by, but I can’t bring myself to look up. I can’t bring myself to look up and see the men storming the café.
Once I see them, I’ll no longer be able to convince myself that this is just a horrible nightmare.
“Esme…!”
I hear my name. I think Tamara is the one calling to me. I can hear her fear, her uncertainty, but I don’t look up. I don’t answer back.
Phoenix.
That’s the only thought running through my head.
Even if they let me live, they will never spare my son.
He is the heir to the Bratva after Artem. He is as much a threat as his father.
The old uncertainties come roaring back.
Oh, God—why didn’t I just stay away?
Why did I come back to L.A.?
My thoughts falter for a moment. And suddenly, a memory comes into high relief.
It’s the moment, almost a year ago when I first saw Artem.
Did I know then that he was going to be an important part of my life?
Sometimes, it feels like I did know.
I remember that strange sensation in your gut that stirs anytime you meet someone who leaves a lasting impression.
It was more than just the fact that he was beautiful, handsome, dangerous.
It was the way he looked at me, claiming me with his eyes in a way that made me want to give him everything I had.
I came back to L.A. for him.
For Artem.
Because I love him.