Nora reaches for my hand, her slender fingers curving around my palm. “I’m glad you didn’t.” She gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for that.”

“Why didn’t you tell them?” I ask, placing my other palm over her small hand. “They’re your friends—I would’ve expected you to share such things with them.”

“I’m going to tell them.” She looks uncomfortable. “Just not yet.”

“Are you afraid they’ll judge you?” I frown at her, trying to understand. “We’re married. This is only natural. You know that, right?”

“They will judge me, Julian.” Her soft lips twist. “I’ll be a mother at twenty. Girls my age don’t do marriage and babies. At least most that I know don’t.”

“I see.” I study her thoughtfully. “What do they do? Parties? Clubs? Boyfriends?”

She lowers her gaze. “I’m sure you think it’s silly.”

It is, yet it isn’t. It still catches me off-guard sometimes, how young she is. How limited her experience has been. I can’t remember ever being that young. By the time I was twenty, I was already at the helm of my father’s organization, having seen most of the world and done things that would make hardened mobsters shudder. Youth had skipped me by, and I keep forgetting that Nora still retains some of hers.

“Is that what you want?” I ask when she looks up at me again. “To go out? To have fun?”

“No—I mean, that would be nice, but I know it’s not realistic.” She draws in a deep breath, her hand twitching in my grasp. “It’s fine, Julian. Really. I’m going to tell them soon. I just didn’t want our lunch today to be all about that.”

“Okay.” Releasing her hand, I drape my arm over her shoulders and draw her closer. “Whatever you think best, my pet.”

* * *

To my satisfaction, the second dinner with Nora’s parents goes smoothly. Nora gives them a tour of the house while I catch up on some work, and by the time I join everyone for dinner, the Lestons seem much less tense than before.

“Wow, look at this table,” Gabriela says when we all sit down. “Rosa, you prepared all this?”

Rosa nods, smiling proudly. “I did. I hope you all enjoy it.”

“I’m sure we will,” I say. The table is covered with dishes ranging from a white asparagus salad to the traditional Colombian recipe of Arroz con Pollo. “Thank you, Rosa.”

“I’m still stuffed from that cheesecake,” Nora says, grinning, “but I’ll try to do this meal justice. Everything looks delicious.”

As we dig into the food, the conversation revolves around Nora’s day with her friends and the latest local gossip. Apparently, one of the Leston’s divorced neighbors started dating a woman ten years his senior, while the man’s miniature Chihuahua got into an altercation with another neighbor’s Persian cat. “Can you believe it?” Tony Leston says, chuckling. “That cat outweighs the dog by a good ten pounds.”

Nora and Rosa laugh while I observe the Lestons with bemusement. For the first time, I understand why Nora wanted to visit here so badly, what she meant when she said she needed a breather from the estate. The life Nora’s parents lead—the life she used to lead before she met me—is so different I might as well be visiting another planet.

A planet populated by people blissfully ignorant of the realities of the world.

“What are you doing on Saturday, honey?” Gabriela asks, smiling warmly at her daughter. “Do you already have plans?”

Nora looks puzzled. “Saturday? No, not yet.” And then her eyes widen. “Oh, Saturday. You mean my birthday?”

I suppress a flare of annoyance. I’d been hoping to surprise Nora again—preferably with a better outcome this time. Oh, well. Nothing to be done now. Leaning back in my chair, I say, “We do have something planned for the evening, but not during the day.”

“Wonderful.” Nora’s mother beams at her. “Why don’t you come over for lunch then? I’ll make all of your favorite dishes.”

Nora glances at me, and I give her a small nod. “We’d be happy to, Mom,” she says.

Gabriela’s smile dims slightly at the “we,” so I lean forward and say to Nora, “I’m afraid I have some work to do, baby. Why don’t you spend some time with your parents by yourself?”

“Oh, sure.” Nora blinks. “Okay.”

Tony and Gabriela look ecstatic, and I resume eating, tuning out the rest of their conversation. As much as I dislike the idea of being away from Nora, I want her to have some tension-free time with her parents—something that can only be achieved without my presence.

I want my pet to be happy on her birthday, no matter what it takes.

* * *

After the Lestons leave, Nora heads into the shower, and I pull out my phone to check my messages. To my surprise, there is an email from Lucas. It’s just one line:

Yulia Tzakova escaped.

Sighing, I put the phone away. I know I should be furious, but for some reason, I’m only mildly annoyed. The Russian girl won’t get far; Lucas will hunt her down and bring her back as soon as we return. For now, though, I picture his rage—the rage I can sense in the terse words of the email—and chuckle.

If the plane crash hadn’t killed so many of my men, I’d almost feel sorry for the girl.