But this picture of her with her father stings me. Every minute of my childhood spent with her comes to the forefront of my mind.
I tuck my phone away. That’s a problem for another time.
The aroma of vanilla trickles into my awareness as I unlock the door of my suite. It grows stronger inside, leading me to the living room, where Liya sits on the couch with her back to me. She’s wearing that sundress I like and one of her many sun hats, the beige wide-brim one with the pink bow.
I would never admit out loud how much I adore the way it looks on her.It makes her look like a sweet porcelain doll.
I can’t see her hair, so I assume she has it tucked under the hat. That’s something about her I adore. She can put on any style and immediately look like she’s been wearing it for years. When I met her, she only wore tank tops and blue jeans. Now, she’s really come into her own.
“Lisichka,” I whisper. “Where were you? Gennadiy said you and Willow had left—”
I freeze when she turns around. She drops the hat, revealing a bob of black hair. Blue eyes widen when they settle on me. The piercings on her face glitter from the sunlight pouring into the room.
That’s not Liya.
My mouth drops open. I’m rarely speechless, but it’s not often I walk into my home and see myex-girlfriendperched in my living room wearing mywife’sclothes.
She stands up and bows her head like she’s ashamed—or maybe scared.
And I’m too shocked to truly react.
Just as I’ve gathered myself, Liya steps between us.
I blink rapidly at Liya’s features. A tiny twitch in her cheek erupts to the same rhythm of my heart.
“Before you blow your lid,” she whispers firmly. “Zoya is here because of me. That’s where I went with—” She licks her lips like she’s struggling with her explanation, but ultimately continues, “With Willow. We brought Zoya back in disguise.”
I arch my right brow. “And where’s Willow?”
“She had to go back to work.”
I nod, waiting to see what else she has to say.
“This is the safest place for Zoya,” Liya insists. She sniffs and looks away while crossing her arms over her chest. “At least for now.”
I pitch my voice low, so only Liya can hear me. “She’s wearing your dress.”
She raises her eyebrows. “It was in the closet on my way out. I wanted to get to her fast.”
“It looks nothing like her.”
Liya frowns as she focuses on me. “It was the only way to get her here without raising too many eyebrows.”
Good thinking.
But I don’t say that part out loud.
“She’s good leverage, by the way,” Liya points out quietly. “So, before you decide you should kick her to the curb, think about how keeping her safe helps both of the fights you’re in right now.” She pauses as darkness slips into her expression. “Lord knows what the hell might have happened to her if the cops grabbed her.”
I peek over Liya’s shoulder, spotting the familiar bashful look from Zoya—a look that reminds me of when we were teenagers, and she was still a girl searching her father’s face for permission.
It’s nothing like the look on Liya’s face I see now.
Tenacity, strength, and defiance.A leader.
A queen.
“Both Kiril and Cardona will want to get to her.”