Servers flitted in and out, carrying trays of hors d’oeuvres and refilling champagne glasses.
Kai met us halfway, closely followed by Will.
“I found Damon,” Kai told Michael right away.
“Where is he?” I asked.
“St. Petersburg.”
“Russia?” Michael said, a stunned look on his face. “What the fuck?”
Kai continued. “His parole officer came looking for him. Damon missed his check-in with him, and after tracking his passport, they found him there,” he explained. “It makes sense. That’s where his father’s people are from, so he’s on friendly ground. They’re not going to go after him, of course, but we can.”
I shook my head. “Just leave him alone.”
Michael turned his eyes on me, looking down. “I’m not waiting for him to just show up back here, Rika. He’s dangerous.”
“He won’t come back,” I stated. “He won’t want to fail a third time. Just leave him alone, and let’s move on.”
Kai and Michael studied me for a few moments, and I hoped they understood what I wasn’t saying.
There had been too much pain. Too many years and too much wasted time. We all needed to start living again.
Damon wouldn’t try to hurt me again. Another attempt after two failures would make him look pathetic. He was gone.
And since we’d found the phone from Devil’s Night right where I suspected—in Trevor’s cabin on board Pithom—and destroyed it, there was absolutely nothing holding us back anymore. It was time to start having some fun.
“So what do we do now?” Will asked.
The corner of Michael’s lips lifted. “What we’re good at, I guess. Wreaking a little fucking havoc.”
And then he jerked his chin, gesturing to the two female servers behind Kai and Will.
The guys turned around, seeing two college-age girls, dressed in black pencil skirts, white blouses, and black vests. They tried to their hide smiles, eyeing them as they lit candles and checked the table settings.
“Delay dinner for us?” Michael asked.
Kai turned back around, his chest shaking with a quiet laugh. “How long do you need?” he asked, backing away with mischief in his eyes.
“An hour.”
Kai and Will turned around with shitty-ass grins on their faces as they followed the girls and disappeared into the kitchen.
I narrowed my eyes up at Michael, confused.
“Come on.” He tugged at my hand. “I want to show you something.”
And then he pulled me along, out of the dining room.
I STEPPED OUT OF THE CAR, the leaves rustling under my heels as I pulled my ivory-colored coat tight around me and slammed the car door.
The day was clear, not a cloud in the sky as I breathed out steam and looked up, seeing the scaffolding, tarps, and small yellow bulldozers sitting around the old cathedral.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
It wasn’t being torn down, was it?
“I’m having it restored,” he answered, taking my hand and leading me inside the front doors.
I walked in, my gaze immediately shooting everywhere as I took in all the work the crew had already done.
The broken and trashed pews in the balcony were now all torn out, and all of the garbage and piles of debris around the floor were completely gone. The sanctuary and old altar had been removed, and there was now a proper door hung at the entrance of the catacombs. Tarps hung over exposed areas in the roof and walls, and a new cement foundation had been laid, clean and solid.
To the right and left, scaffolding went all the way up to the roof, and I also noticed wood framing, as if a second floor were being added.
There were no workers here, probably because it was Thanksgiving.
“Restored?” I repeated, still confused. “As what? As a church, a historical site...?”
He opened his mouth, taking in a deep breath as if he were a little apprehensive. “As a… house,” he finally answered.
“A house? I don’t understand.”
He breathed out a laugh and approached me. “I should’ve talked to you about it, but I…” He looked around. “I really wanted this, and I was hoping you’d want to live here.”
I froze.
“With me,” he added.
Live here? With him?
I mean, yeah, I was already practically living in his penthouse in the city with him right now, but I still had my apartment, and this was a house. A whole different level.
I loved the idea of turning it into a home. As strange as it might be to other people, it’s where some of my favorite memories with Michael occurred. I loved it here.
But…would this be just his place, and I’d live here? Or would it be ours? Could he send me packing any time he wanted?
Or did a house mean something more?
“So what does this mean exactly?” I inched out, my heart drumming faster.
He kept his eyes on mine and walked up to me slowly, moving forward and pushing me back. I gasped, hitting a stone column.
With amusement in his eyes, he leaned in, whispering, “Turn around.”
I hesitated, wondering what he was up to, but…
I never backed away from a challenge.
Turning around slowly, I let him take my hands and plant them on the column in front of me. Then he snaked a hand around my waist and covered my back with his chest, nuzzling my neck with his lips. I wasn’t cold anymore.
“It means that I want to keep playing,” he said, his voice deep and filled with heat. “It means that until the house is done and we’re ready to settle back here, my apartment is your apartment, my bed is yours, and my eyes are only on you.”