She frowns just like I am. Just like that, the spell of normalcy withers. We both drop the pretense of our fantasy. “So you plan on taking over after Belov?”
“It makes sense. Our son will inherit both,” I say. “I might as well make the transition easy for him.”
She studies me carefully, a curious look passing over her face.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I say.
She takes a deep breath. “What if I stake my claim on the Mikhailov throne?”
I weigh it for a moment, but there isn’t much to truly consider. The answer is simple. Straightforward. “Then I’d hand over the reins to you.”
Her eyes go wide. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
She frowns, suspicion narrowing her eyes. “Are you only saying that because you know I have no real interest in leading a Bratva?”
“I don’t know that.”
She sighs. “You know exactly that. I just want to live a normal life, Leo. Somewhere quiet where I can raise my children.”
“Children?”
She looks away from me awkwardly. “I just meant—forget it. It was a slip. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Are you sure about that?”
She rolls her eyes. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I thought I did. I’m going to continue to be don. I still have a Bratva to run, and I still have ambitions where the Solovev dynasty is concerned.”
“Ambition,” she repeats softly. “Every man’s undoing.”
“I disagree. It’s what raises us up. Ambition is a good thing.”
“So the Solovevs will grow?”
“In size and power,” I confirm.
“And Jax and Gaiman?”
“They’ll be by my side while I execute my vision.”
“What if one day they want to leave?”
“To do what?”
“I don’t know. What if one of them meets a girl? What if they get married and have children of their own?”
“They can do all that and still be by my side.”
“And if they choose not to?” she presses.
“Then they’re free to go. They’re not my prisoners, Willow. They’re my Vors. And more importantly, they’re my friends.”
She nods. “Right. Friends. Maybe the three of you can reinstate old traditions.”
She’s going somewhere with this, I’m just not sure where. She doesn’t make me wait long, though. Silence has always been her undoing.
“Tell me,” she says, running tentative fingers over her silverware, “when’s the last time you went to Vixen Pond? Or was it Vixen Palace?”
I sigh and press my head to the table for a moment. “That’s why I tell Jax to keep his mouth shut.”
She smiles. “I’m glad he opened up to me.”
“We were young,” I tell her. “And horny. It was the best way we knew how to celebrate. In fact, Jax still celebrates like that from time to time. Gaiman got tired of the scene a few years ago.”
“And you?”
I smile. “What is the answer you want from me, Willow?”
“The truth,” she says. “That’s all.”
“I enjoyed myself when I was a young man. That’s all I’ll say.”
Her face sours just a little, though she doesn’t say anything.
“But after Pavel’s death, things changed for me,” I say. “Indulging in alcohol and women wasn’t as fulfilling anymore. Things changed for good. They’ve never gone back.”
She looks relieved, but a ghost of worry still lingers over her face. “Well, that’s… interesting.”
I lean over and grab the arm of her chair. In one swift movement, I pull her over so she’s sitting right next to me. I place my hand on the slit running up her dress so that I’m touching her bare skin again. She’s got goosebumps.
“Jealous again?”
She frowns. “I’m not jealous.”
“Really?” I ask. “Because you did a brilliant imitation of it before you knew who Ariel really was.”
“What about you?” she demands, blatantly changing the subject. “You get jealous, too.”
“Give me one instance.”
She arches a brow. “When I walked down here naked and you practically beat the waiter for looking at me.”
She isn’t wrong. I’m still tempted to gouge the man’s eyes out. “That was quite the stunt you pulled.”