Satin Princess(53)

That, or Anton’s presence. I don’t bother clarifying.

“Are you coming back to the States?”

“I’m… not sure.”

“Shouldn’t you know?” Chris asks. “Or is he the one calling all the shots?”

I recognize this tone. It’s the same one he used to use when he was talking about Dane. I don’t want history to repeat itself, but I can’t help but get defensive.

“He’s not Dane, Chris,” I say softly.

“You’re right—he’s worse.”

“What do you mean?”

“This guy is a Bratva don, Jessa,” he says. “And it’s kinda fuckin’ ridiculous that I need to remind you of that over and over again.”

“Okay, so he’s not an upstanding citizen. But he’s… he’s not going to hurt me.”

“He’s not going to hurt you now that you’re carrying his baby,” Chris corrects harshly. “What happens after you have the kid?”

“Please don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Pick a fight with me. I’m tired and I’m pregnant and I’m far from home. And I really need you to be on my side, Chris. I know you don’t like him, and I don’t expect you to. But he will make sure I’m protected from her.”

He falls silent at that. Then he exhales. “I am on your side, too, you know.”

“I know that. Even when we’re butting heads, I do know that. But I’m gonna go now, okay?” I say. “I’ll text you later.”

He sighs bitterly. “Be safe.”

I say goodbye and hang up. Then I check the time. Thomas said six o’clock wakeup, and it is already five past.

I grab clothes and throw them on. When I walk back out of the bathroom, Anton is standing by the bed, fully clothed, looking effortlessly handsome.

“Forgot about your little farmer’s market date?”

“Chris called. I lost track of time.”

I can’t quite read his expression when I mention Chris. Some strained mix of a storm and a shrug.

He takes his turn in the bathroom for a few minutes while I put on a light jacket and grab a satchel. Then we head downstairs together to the front stoop, where Margaret and Thomas are waiting for us.

“I’m so sorry!” I exclaim the moment I see them. “I overslept.”

“Oh, darling, no stress. It won’t matter if we get there a little later than usual. Best we hurry now, though.”

We follow them down the drive. It rained briefly last night, so the world is fresh with dew. The car looks like a shiny beetle studded with diamonds.

I expect Anton to get into the passenger’s seat next to Thomas, but he slides into the back of the vehicle with me. I give him a puzzled expression and he raises his eyebrows.

“What?” he asks in a low voice while Margaret and Thomas discuss the best route to take to the market.

“You look strange sitting back here.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’ve been in the backseat of a car before.”

“But never one like this,” I say in amusement. My eyes flicker to his legs, which are kind of cramped in the limited space of the backseat.

He rolls his eyes again. “I’ll manage.”

It takes us about fifteen minutes to get to the market. And as soon as the first stall appears on the horizon, I feel like I’ve entered my own personal version of Disney World.

“Oh my God. This is awesome.”

The market is set up in the middle of a huge field and it seems to go on for miles. There must be hundreds of stalls set up along the freshly mowed grass. Cattle and goats hem and haw in their enclosures. The bright pops of color from fruit and vegetables dangling from the tent awnings look like fireworks.

Anton falls into step beside me as Margaret and Thomas head towards their usual stalls.

“Feel free to walk around, dear,” Margaret says to me over her shoulder. “I’ll give you two a call when we’re ready to leave.”

They disappear into the crowd and Anton turns to me. “Well? Where do you wanna start?”

“How about the cheese stall?”

Anton chuckles and spreads his arms. “I count four in this area alone. Pick one.”

I press the back of my hand to my forehead like I’m an old school Hollywood dame about to faint. “Dear God, I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

Laughing, Anton puts a hand on my lower back and steers me possessively to the nearest tent. I’m standing at the cheese stall, sampling a particularly flavorful piece of camembert, when I notice a familiar face in the crowd.

I elbow Anton. “Hey, is that Lev?”

Anton doesn’t even bother to glance his way. “Mhmm.”

“Does he like farmer’s markets, too?”

He shakes his head. “No, we need the security.”

“By ‘we,’ you mean me?’

“I haven’t needed security since I was ten years old. So yes, safe to say I mean you.”

I stop chewing for a moment. “Anyone else here that I should know about?”

“Just Yulian.”

“Your two righthand men. Joy.”

“There’s no one else I’d trust with your security.”