I’ve been too busy running to be with anyone else. Even if I wasn’t, I’d never be able to relax enough to trust them anyway.
No matter how many years pass, I always catch myself looking over my shoulder. I expect to see Mikhail Novikov walking right towards me. I’ve been looking for you, Viviana, he’d purr in that darkly delicious voice of his.
Some days, it’s a nightmare.
Other days—mostly nights—it’s a fantasy.
But this morning, I look over my shoulder and see Dante padding down the hall in bright yellow rain boots, a fuzzy bear sweatshirt, and a superhero mask. He grins. “I picked out my own clothes.”
“You’re kidding. You put together this fabulous outfit?” I reach for his hand and twirl him around until he giggles. “This look could be on a runway somewhere.”
“What’s a runway?” he
