Chapter 4 - The Shadow of the Syndicate
For the next two weeks, Emma stayed at the Rostov estate under the guise of recovery. Though she initially insisted on returning to her small apartment in Queens, Viktor firmly refused, citing safety concerns until the men responsible for the bakery attack were completely eliminated.
During those fourteen days, the cold, silent fortress transformed.
Emma’s presence brought life into the massive stone mansion. She spent her mornings with Sophie in the sunroom, teaching her new signs, baking flour-dusted pastries in the estate’s massive kitchen, and filling the halls with quiet laughter.
The estate staff—guards who had spent years looking stern and carrying submachine guns—found themselves eating fresh cinnamon rolls handed to them by Emma with a warm, sisterly smile. No one dared disrespect her; to Viktor’s men, Emma was the woman who had protected their little princess when they had failed.
One evening, Viktor returned from a three-day trip to the city. His face was drawn with exhaustion, his shoulders tense from negotiating with the five crime families of New York to uncover who had ordered the hit on his child.
He walked into the sunroom to find Emma sitting on the rug beside the fireplace, showing Sophie how to roll out pie dough using a small wooden rolling pin. Flour was dusted across Emma’s nose, and her hair was gathered in a messy bun.
Viktor stood in the doorway, quietly watching them.
Sophie noticed him first. She jumped up, hands moving quickly: Papa! Emma made apple pie! She let me cut the apples!
Viktor smiled softly, dropping to one knee to hug his daughter. “Go get washed up for dinner, sweetheart.”
As Sophie ran out of the room toward the kitchen, Viktor stood up and turned to Emma. He walked over, pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket, and gently reached out to wipe the fleck of flour from her nose.
Emma froze, her skin tingling where his knuckles brushed against her cheek.
“You look comfortable here,” Viktor said softly, his deep voice wrapping around her like velvet.
“She’s making progress, Viktor,” Emma said, trying to ignore the rapid beating of her heart. “She signed twenty new words today. She told me she wants to learn how to bake bread next week.”
“Emma,” Viktor said, stepping closer, closing the distance between them until she could feel the heat radiating from his chest. “The men who attacked the bakery... they belonged to the Moretti family. They were trying to force me into a land deal by using Sophie as leverage.”
Emma’s breath hitched. “Is it over?”
“It will be soon,” Viktor replied, his eyes darkening. “But word has spread through the city about you. They know a woman in the bakery took the bullet for my child. They know I brought you to my home. In the eyes of my enemies, you are no longer an innocent bystander. You are my weakness.”
May you like
Emma looked up into his eyes, sensing the unspoken truth hanging in the air. “Am I?”
Viktor reached down, his large, calloused hand gently cupping her jawline. “You are the first thing in five years that makes me want to put down my gun and stay home.”
