Then there was Garik, with his dark-blond hair and ice-blue eyes. He was built like a tank and, I could only assume, the older of the three. He had a more mature air about him, or maybe he’d just had a harder life. I wasn’t sure, but I found myself befriending him a little more than the others as the week progressed.
22
Ryan
Walking into Pop’s home office, I tossed a few files on his desk. I’d already put a note on the top of the stack to remind him I needed everything back by the next morning, so there was no need for me to stick around. With it being the week after Christmas, I knew he would just be wandering aimlessly around the house or out with Samara somewhere. When Mom was gone to Paris with Nova, he tried to find things to keep himself busy so he didn’t miss her as much.
Tired, I scrubbed a hand over my face, wishing I had something to distract myself other than just work. This bullshit with Nova was killing me. She wouldn’t call me or return my texts, and I was trying to give her some space so she could cool down from whatever was going on with us.
But not being able to talk to her every day was killing me.
“Ryan!” Samara called out.
My head snapped up, finding my baby sister skipping down the hall toward me…with Mom right behind her, carrying a plate of cookies.
Every muscle in my body tensed. “Shouldn’t you be in Paris?”
She shrugged and bit into a reindeer-shaped cookie. “You would know why I’m not in Paris if you came home for more than two seconds every now and then,” she scolded gently.
“Mom.”
“Nova is doing something for her cousin Lyric,” Samara informed me, taking a cookie from the plate and handing it to me before taking one for herself. “Didn’t she tell you when you saw her?”
“I didn’t go,” I admitted, taking an aggressive bite out of the snowman’s head. In my bid to give Nova some time to cool off, I’d forgone our normal Christmas morning routine. Typically, I flew out and joined her and the Hannigans for Christmas morning so we could exchange gifts in person.
“You didn’t go, yet you didn’t join us for the festivities?” Mom’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell, Ryan?”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I muttered. “I just have a lot going on right now.”
She pushed the dish into my sister’s hands. “Take these to your papa, Samara,” she instructed. “I’ll be up in a moment.”
“Someone’s in trouble,” Samara singsonged as she started up the stairs.
Mom waited until my sister was out of sight before blasting me with the full force of her glare. “This is getting ridiculous, Ryan. You need to tell Nova how you feel about her and explain all the plans you’ve made for your future together before she decides to move on.”
“She knows about my plans.”
“So, you’ve told her—in detail—how you want to marry her when she turns eighteen?” I shrugged. “That’s not an answer, l’venok.”
“No, not in detail,” I admitted. “But—”
“She’s not a mind reader, damn it. And you can’t expect her to be. Listen to me, Ryan. You can’t just assume that she knows how you feel or what you foresee in regard to your relationship.” She shoved the rest of her cookie into her mouth, chewing angrily, before swallowing. “Call her. Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve. Sort this out and ring in the new year with her the right way.”
“Yeah, okay.” I pulled my phone from my pocket. “I’ll call her now.”
“And to make it up to me for not being here Christmas morning when you could have been, you have to stop by Iron Hand and make sure they got that shipment of extra champagne for tomorrow night.” She stood on tiptoes to kiss my cheek. “Text me when you have confirmation.”
Groaning, I nodded and watched her climb the stairs to the second floor.
“Goodnight, l’venok,” she called before disappearing.
“Night, Mom,” I muttered, pulling my phone from my pocket as I exited the house. Pietro was already waiting by my SUV, the back door open, his hands folded in front of him. Even inside the compound, he was ever vigilant. When Nova moved to New York at the end of this school year, Pietro would head her security detail because I trusted no one with her safety but the fucking best.
“Iron Hand,” I told my driver as Pietro slid into the front passenger seat. “Pietro, I have a…mission for you to oversee.”
That piqued the huge man’s interest, and he shifted in his seat to look back at me. “Sir?”
“Nova is being difficult. This not seeing her as I’ve grown used to over the years is distracting me.”
“I’ve suggested many times putting CCTV in her home, sir,” Pietro reminded me.
“Yes, well, I was being considerate of her privacy back then. Now, I don’t seem to give a fuck. Make it happen.” I lowered my gaze to my phone, trying yet again to call her. Again, getting nothing but her voice mail. “Without her or her family knowing about the cameras.”
“I will be done by the new year, sir,” Pietro assured me.
“And find out where the fuck she is,” I growled. “Her location is turned off on her phone. All I know is that she’s helping one of her cousins with something. I want to know where she is and who she is with. As soon as you know where she is, have the jet readied.”
He extracted his own phone from his pocket. “On it, sir.”
The lights of the city passed in a blur. It was cold out, but there was no snow on the ground. Ciana had texted me earlier in the week that she was sad there had been no white Christmas. Hopefully there would be snowfall for New Year’s Eve. She loved it when the fireworks that went off around the city glowed on the snow.
The driver pulled around to the back of my mother’s club, and Pietro and I got out. Hopefully this wouldn’t take long and then I would be in the air flying to wherever the hell Nova was. Every minute that kept me from her was only making me more and more tense, stretching my normally endless patience.
The manager wasn’t in the office when I stopped in to ask about the extra champagne order. I could either wait for her to finish whatever had called her from the office or go in search of her. I glanced at Pietro, silently asking if he had Nova’s location yet.
Grimly, he gave a shake of his head.
Muttering a curse, I walked out of the office to find the manager. The VIP was on the second floor, and from experience, I knew Roza was most likely there. More often than not, it was the VIPs who caused more issues than the average clubgoer. They thought that since they had the money and the celebrity, they could do whatever the fuck they wanted and get away with it.
Roza was an old friend of Mom’s from another time in her life, so I was confident she could handle any situation that arose, but it wouldn’t hurt anything if I had a look around.
As I climbed the stairs with Pietro, my gaze traveled around the top floor in search of Roza. The woman was easily over six feet tall without heels, but she favored stilettoes that put her at least six inches taller. With her porcelain complexion, blue eyes, and blond hair that flowed down to her waist, she was easy to spot in any crowd.