Mikhail's POV
Houston, Texas
I didn't leave Houston.
Babya begged me to stay a few extra days: "Just one more brunch, one more gala, one more nice girl who isn't a walking red flag, Misha."
She said it with that smile that had guilt-tripped me since I was six.
But we both knew the real reason.
Nora was here.
One look at her in that emerald dress, laughing with another man's arm around her waist, had cracked open a grave I thought I'd sealed shut two years ago.
So I stayed.
Booked the penthouse at the Post Oak indefinitely.
Told Dmitri to keep the team invisible.
Told my father I was handling "new business interests" in Texas.
He didn't believe me.
I didn't care.
I watched her from a distance.
Not stalking.
Protecting.
That's what I told
