Page 49 of Dark Seduction

I sigh. “The truth of the matter is, I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure?” Elena watches me closely, then presses, "What has Lev said about it all?"

I exhale, the truth itching to spill. "He said he thought we should get married, but he hasn't brought it up again. It’s not like I’m desperate to get hitched or anything, but..." I shrug, "it would relieve some stress about the baby being taken care of."

Elena sighs, her frustration evident. "That's just like my brother, always spacing on important details. His mind’s on work ninety percent of the time."

Her words echo my own thoughts but hearing them from her somehow makes the situation feel more manageable and less isolating.

Elena raises her finger, her determination clear. "I'm going to make damn sure my brother doesn't leave you in a lurch. I’ll talk to him, light a fire under his ass."

I smile, touched by her protectiveness. "Thank you, Elena, but we’ll manage on our own."

She returns the smile, warmth radiating from her. "We’re family now, which means we look out for each other."

Before we can delve deeper into our newfound sisterhood, a man approaches our table. He’s in his late forties, with a graying beard and thoughtful eyes that hint at a depth of experience.

"I’m sorry to interrupt," he starts, his voice carrying a respectful urgency, "but I am certain that I reserved this table." His gaze lingers on the spot.

Elena looks up, her expression firm yet polite. "This is something you should take up with the hostess."

His lips form a tight line as he considers her words then shifts his approach. "I’d rather work it out with you, if possible. You see," he says, his voice dropping to a softer, more heartfelt tone, "this is the table where my late wife and I had our first date years ago. It holds a lot of sentimental value to me."

At the man's heartfelt plea, I find myself softening. "I think it might be possible for us to move."

Before I can finish, Elena shoots me a strange look, her eyes darting to the bar, then back to the man.

She speaks, her tone firm. "Sorry, but we're in the middle of our meal, and we're actually celebrating something important."

The man nods, seemingly understanding, but then adds, "I understand, but perhaps a little financial incentive could sweeten the pot." He reaches into his coat, and my heart skips as he produces a gun, pointing it directly at us.

I scream, the sound tearing through the bustling noise of the bar.

Before the man can act further, a glass smashes across his head. The sudden impact sends him staggering, the gun clattering to the floor as he tries to regain his balance. Turning, I see Yuri.

The whole place goes nuts. As the man reels from the blow, Yuri is ready to hit him again. But the man is quick. He drops down, snags the gun off the floor, and points it straight at me. Just as he fires, Yuri brings his hand down on the guy's arm. The shot goes wild, blasting into the wall.

Everyone’s screaming and trying to get away.

In the chaos, Elena yanks me under the table. We’ve barely caught our breath when we hear something land with a thunk next to us. I glance over and nearly choke—it’s a grenade. My heart's pounding like crazy, thinking we’re done for.

But Yuri’s on it. He ditches the attacker, grabs our table, and flips it over us like a shield. We're ducked behind it, waiting for a boom that never comes.

Peeking out, I see the attacker booking it through the crowd.

Yuri, still leaning hard against the table with us, finally lets up a bit. Elena, her voice a low murmur, says, "I'm not a firearms expert, but aren't grenades supposed to explode?"

"Normal ones do," Yuri answers, shoving the table off us with a solid push. He stands and walks over to the non-exploding grenade, picking it up cautiously. "But dummy ones don’t."

I instantly connect the dots. "He threw it just to distract us."

"You got it," Yuri confirms with a nod, holding the dud in his hand. "And it seems," he adds, his face turning serious as he looks back at us, "we're in more danger than we thought."

Chapter 22

Dalia

We are silent in the private car as we weave through the streets of Chicago, Yuri focused on the road. It’s been a harrowing evening, nervousness sitting heavy in the air around us.