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I’d expected hesitation. Concern. Maybe even an intervention. Instead, she was supportive. Which makes sense because I still haven’t been completely honest with my best friend. She doesn’t know that Vasily Borisov is the lead Pakhan in this territory.

She doesn’t know what I’ve seen. What he’s done. What I’ve done.

But somehow, her uncomplicated faith in me makes me feel better and stronger. I need to tell him tonight. Before whatever happens next.

Then I step onto the rooftop.

And forget everything.

The restaurant sits high above the mountains, surrounded by glass and open air, with gorgeous firepits spread throughout and creating small, private spaces. The Adirondacks stretch endlessly beneath us, layers of green ridges fading into the distance beneath a sky streaked with gold and the first hint of stars.

The tables are immaculate. Candles flicker in glass holders. Everything is beautiful.

And then I see Vasily.

He’s standing beside our table in a perfectly tailored dark suit, one hand resting casually against the back of a chair.

My heart stutters.

“Zvezda. You look gorgeous.”

I swallow, suddenly feeling unsteady in heels that I’d normally be comfortable storming a castle in.

“You clean up well yourself,” I manage.

His smile is slow. His fingers ghost over my shoulders when he seats me, brushing the dangling earrings that also arrived miraculously with the dress.

Then he sits across from me, and the view, with him in it, is so perfect it makes everything in me ache. For a few minutes, neither of us says much. The waiter brings champagne. I don’t touch mine; instead, I sip from the glass of water.

Eventually, Vasily looks across the table, putting down the knife he was fiddling with.

“I thought you might throw the trial.”

I stare at him. “What?”

“I thought you might deliberately lose.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because I know how much you hated being here.” He isn’t accusing me, but I look straight at him.

“I did hate it. That never meant I would sacrifice my client to punish you.” I hold his gaze until he nods. Then I look out over the mountains. “What changed was how I saw the rest of your life. The businesses. The people who work for you. The families who depend on them.”

His expression grows serious.

“Deep Waters employs hundreds of people,” I continue. “I saw that in the paperwork. Your construction projects support contractors, suppliers, restaurants, and hotels. Property management keeps entire communities working, from the managers down to single moms cleaning around childcare schedules. Some of what you do is criminal. That hasn’t changed. But shutting everything down wouldn’t just punish you.”

I hold his gaze.

“It would destroy hundreds of lives.”

Something shifts behind Vasily’s eyes. He looks away, crossing his legs, tapping the knife lightly against the table, as if he’s only now just being seen and realizing it.

“I cared about those people too,” I admit quietly. “But Mikhail was my client. Winning his case was my job. If I’d found a way out for myself, I might have run. I wouldn’t have thrown his defense.”

Now, at those words, he looks back at me.

“But you didn’t.”