I was the meat in the middle. The single slice of turkey shoved between an entire loaf of bread. Flanked on both sides, I disappeared into the booth.

Had Matt gotten my message? My hope was he did and he’d stay away.

The little redheaded waitress bounced over. The fringe of her dress shook long after she stopped moving.

“What’s it gonna be?” She stared at Sergei as if she knew he was in charge. He had an air about him that people picked up at first glance. He was not a man to mess with.

Sergei looked at me. “A bottle of Crystal for her and a bottle of vodka for the men.”

The woman, whose name was Kris, eyed the group. “Reverse harem? Lucky girl.”

Bad luck was the first thought that entered my mind.

“Nice place,” Sergei said. “I’d like to own it someday.”

A bubble of laughter slipped from my lips.

“You find that funny?” How was it that sometimes his voice didn’t give a hint to his heritage, and sometimes, like now, it was laced with an icy accent and infused with intimidation?

Immediately, I shook my head. “Not so much funny as an impossible goal. This property has belonged to the Wildes since it was built.” I had to talk past Timur since he sat between Sergei and me. It was like leaning around a freeway pylon.

“Nothing is impossible.” The waitress arrived with both bottles. She quickly made work of popping the cork and pouring me a glass, which I drank straight down and refilled. She left the vodka and shot glasses for Sergei. He poured them all a drink and raised his glass in a toast. It was a toast I’d heard many times. Family first. Death before dishonor. In the end, only one man can win. Be that man.

They tossed the shots back and poured another round. Before anyone could offer a second toast, a shadow fell across the table. All four men grew before my eyes. I quickly poured my third glass of champagne and stared at Matteo Wilde. My heart raced at seeing him again. Matt didn’t need a suit to define him. He pulled off badass in torn jeans and a T-shirt just fine.

He raised his hand to the waitress, who rushed over. “This is shit. Our guests deserve better.” He took the bottle of Stoli Gold and handed it back to her. “I didn’t expect the Russians to send me a welcome home party.”

Not one man moved. They all stared at Sergei for direction. When he placed his hand flat on the table, they relaxed or at least shrunk by an inch.

“It’s important to know one’s enemies and allies,” Sergei said.

Matt leaned against a nearby table. “Which am I?”

No one spoke.

“It’s unclear,” Sergei finally said.

Kris showed up with five clean shot glasses and a bottle of Beluga. Her hands shook as she poured the drinks.

“Let me,” Matt said. He lined the drinks up and upturned the bottle, moving from glass to glass in a single move. He set one in front of every man at the table before he looked at me. “Katya, would you like a shot?”

I shook my head. Half drunk on three glasses of champagne, I didn’t need to add hard liquor to the mix.

“Let’s toast to bountiful business and beautiful women.” Matt raised his glass. His eyes never left mine. “I hear you are to be married.”

“News travels quickly,” Sergei commented.

Matt smiled. “You are in the town that never sleeps.”

Sergei reached past Timur and placed his hand over mine. “Yes, Katya and I will be married on June 21st.”

Had someone sucked the oxygen from the room? My hand went to my throat as my airway closed and threatened to suffocate me.

“No,” I said without thinking. All eyes turned to me. If looks were fire and I was wax, I’d have already melted into the velvet upholstery.

“No?” Sergei lifted a brow.

I reached for my inner warrior. “Are you sure it was June 21st? My father hadn’t mentioned a date.”

He lifted his hand to my chin. A quick reminder of how painful his touch could be. “The date is up to us, and I chose that day. Is there a problem?”

Emotions choked me. I pulled in several deep breaths to get the spots dancing before my eyes to disappear. This wasn’t a time to show weakness.

“No, that day is perfect.” When I looked at Matt, he was scowling.

“Of course your fiancé would know, but this is a tough month for the Petrenkos. If my memory serves me correctly, Katya’s mother passed away in June.”

How he remembered, I couldn’t say. Funerals and weddings were the only time families lowered their guards and weapons. Matt was just a boy when my mother died. He’d come to the funeral dressed in a suit. It was the first time I’d seen him dressed up. His presence was the nicest thing about that day because he was the only one who smiled at me and told me things would be okay. It was a complete lie. Things were never okay, but in that moment I believed him.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Sergei said and dropped his hand, “what day did your mother kill herself?”

It was in these times that I knew Sergei Volkov was an evil man. He could have asked the day she died, but he had to remind me that my mother had taken her own life. He didn’t pour salt on a wound. He sliced me open and doused me in rubbing alcohol.

“June 21st,” I whispered.

“Perfect. We shall erase the bad memory and bring in some good.”

I smiled. It was all I could do. All I was allowed to do. “Excuse me.” I lifted my champagne glass. “I’ve had too much to drink and need the ladies room.”

Sergei shifted out of the booth first, followed by Timur, then me. As I walked away, I felt ten sets of eyes on me. The last thing I heard before I turned the corner was Sergei telling Matt they had unfinished business.

I rushed to the bathroom. At the sink, I stared into the mirror at the woman I’d become. “I am a Petrenko,” I told myself. “I do not quake in fear. I do not cry, and I do not pine for what will never be mine.” Strong words for a weak girl. Not too long ago, I stood with Faye in a bathroom not too far away from this one when she shook from fear. She’d just married Alex and realized what she’d married into—the mafia.

“I had no choice.” The girl in the mirror looked back with steel-blue eyes. Did choice really matter? All I could hope for was a man who treated me kindly. Love didn’t exist. What people thought was love was only lust gone wild. No one married for love. Not my mother. Not my father. Not me. If something blossomed between two people, they could consider themselves fortunate. I let out an exasperated sigh.

I would stand beside Sergei and say I do and hope for the best. Maybe he was right. Maybe burying that awful day with a different memory would help. It would either lessen the pain, or it would cover it with something equally horrific. I feared it would be the latter.

After a splash of water to my face and a touch up of bright red lipstick to give me some color back, I walked out of the restroom ready to face the rest of the night.

As soon as I cleared the door, a hand wrapped around my waist and pulled me into a nearby stairwell. My first instinct was to fight, but the man who had me pulled against his chest wasn’t there to harm me. It was Matt.

“Are you okay?”

As much as I wanted to stay right there in his arms, I knew I shouldn’t. Knew I couldn’t. I had minutes before someone would look for me. Or maybe not. That would mean Sergei cared, and he didn’t. I had something he wanted, and it sure wasn’t what was between my legs.

“Of course I’m okay. I’m a Petrenko.”

Matt pushed me to the wall, trapping me on both sides with his hands. “You don’t have to wear your armor around me. I watched you cry yesterday.”

So he had found the door I left ajar. “Back to stalking?”

“It’s not safe to let me in.”

“When was safe ever a factor in our lives?”

“Thanks for the warning.” He leaned in and took a deep breath.

“What good did it do if you didn’t stay away?” I wanted to lay my head against his chest. To feel his arms around me for the very first and last time, but I stood still, trapped between him and the wall. “Sergei is after your family. He thinks one of you killed his cousin Dima.”

“Dima killed himself.”

I lowered my head. “I killed Dima. I buried the knife in his gut. There was so much blood.” A tear collected in my eye. One tear was all I’d allow that asshole.

Matt moved his hands along the wall so they cupped my cheeks. For a moment, I stared at his lips and hoped he’d kiss me. Just one kiss to make me forget everything. A single kiss that could last me a lifetime. “Listen to me,” he said, pulling me from my thoughts about his lips and kisses. “Dima killed himself.”

“Right.” All my sarcasm needed was a roll of the eye to confirm my disbelief.

He pressed his forehead to mine. “Have you been carrying the guilt of his death with you these last few weeks?”

“I don’t feel guilty. I feel…” Did I dare let my guard down? Could I trust Matt with my feelings? “I’m scared.”

“Sweetheart, you did not kill Dima.” He thumbed the tear away. “One of Alex’s men cut off his nut sack and threw his knife to the ground beside it. With three of them present, Dima couldn’t fight back. He took one look at his neutered self and realized he’d never get off by torturing people again. His life wasn’t worth living. He picked up the knife and slit his own throat.”

“Really?”

“Really. You have nothing to feel guilty about. Dima killed himself. It’s all in the coroner’s report.” That information was golden because if somehow I could get that report, I could prove to Sergei the Wildes were not responsible, and I wouldn’t have to implicate myself. A ripple of joy rushed through me. Before I considered my actions, I stood on my tiptoes and pressed my lips to Matt’s. He stilled for a second, then wrapped his hands behind my head to close the gap and deepen the kiss.

His lips were full and soft, not hard like Sergei’s, and when he opened his mouth, I tasted the sweetness of cinnamon mixed with vodka. His tongue dipped inside, the velvety softness of it exploring the surface of mine.

When my legs grew weak, I wrapped my arms around his neck. My fingers found their way to his soft curls. For the first time in a lifetime, my heart filled with something other than dread. I knew it wasn’t love, but lust on fire. Fire being the important word because I was playing with it by kissing Matt when a contingency of Bratva soldiers was beyond the door.

I pulled away and licked the moisture from my lips. I’d savor his taste forever. Could one amazing kiss last me a lifetime? It had to.

“Don’t go.” He leaned his body into me. His arousal pressed against my belly.

“I have to, or they will kill us both.”

He stepped back and pressed his hand to where he’d been stabbed in prison. “They tried to kill me once. I know Yuri is your father, but he has a lot to answer for. He killed my father. He tried to kill me. Hell, he sent to me to damn prison.”

That was another reason to walk away. Matt needed to know the truth, and I needed to tell him.

“There’s something you need to know.”

On the other side of the door, a man spoke Russian, and the reality of getting caught hit us both. Neither of us was prepared to fight a battle tonight.

“There’s no time. Go down one floor and come up the elevator. If anyone asks where you’ve been, tell them you had to use the casino bathroom because this one was out of order.” He nudged me to the stairs. “This isn’t over, Katya.”

I hurried down a flight and looked up to see him dragging a mop bucket and caution sign from the closet next to where we kissed.

“Yes, it is. At least this kiss was better than the first one we shared.”

“What are you talking about?”

I ran down the next flight without giving him an answer.

Several minutes later, I was in the elevator like Matt suggested. The doors opened to reveal Sergei and his men. They had come to look for me.

“Where have you been?” The fabric-covered walls absorbed Sergei’s anger. I stepped out and felt draped in fury.

I pointed to the caution sign in front of the bathroom door and the out of order sign taped above it. Thank you, Matt.

“I had to go all the way across the casino.” I stared down at my heels. “These aren’t designed for long walks.”

His stiff demeanor softened. If Matt had been around, I would have kissed him again because he saved my ass once more.

“Let’s go home,” Sergei said. “You have a wedding to plan.”