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  “But I don’t feel any different.”

  “You’ve mentioned having hot flashes, which is one of the symptoms. Sometimes symptoms don’t occur or you might not have noticed them.”

  “So I’ll never get my period again?” I question.

  “Yes, that’s correct. The cycle has stopped.”

  “How’s this possible?”

  “Most of the time, we can’t find an explanation for it, but known causes are genetic conditions, autoimmune disorders, and infections.”

  “And what’s the treatment?”

  “Unfortunately, there’s no reverse treatment for premature menopause,” she informs me as she checks her computer screen where my file is opened.

  “Can I still get pregnant?”

  “Oh, definitely; however, you can’t use your own eggs.”

  That isn’t an option for me; I’m Catholic. I need to know if I’ll be able to conceive a child of my own. “But can I have children of my own?”

  “Not biological, no. I’m so sorry, Rosalia,” she explains in an empathetic tone. “There are other options, though. In select cases, pregnancy can be achieved using donor eggs, and when that time comes, I’ll be happy to recommend a very good specialist. In the meantime, an important thing to remember about premature menopause is that there’s an increased risk for low bone density due to the longer period of time you’ll be experiencing a decrease in estrogen production. I’m going to give you prescriptions for calcium and vitamin D supplements. If you experience unpleasant symptoms, we also have treatment options such as hormone therapy pills or antidepressant medication.”

  “Okay.” I’m lost in thought while sadness descends on me. “I didn’t expect anything like this, so I’m a little in shock.”

  “I understand, and again, I’m very sorry. If you want to talk to someone else, I can refer you to a therapist.”

  “No. Not now. I just need to process this.” In a daze, I rise and snatch my purse and hooded red trench coat that are hanging off the back of the chair.

  “My assistant will give you your prescriptions and set up a follow-up appointment, Rosalia.”

  This depresses me immensely, so I say goodbye quietly and throw on my coat. After stopping at the front desk, I tread outside and come across Logan.

  “Please, not now,” I plead. “I’m not in the mood for you.”

  Then I round the corner of the building while my thoughts run wild. The clouds cast a literal shadow on my frame of mind, and water sprinkles down to earth. For blocks, I wander, passing countless pedestrians, until I’m alongside the river at the rows of steel benches. Thick raindrops tumble from the sky onto my neck. When I sink down onto a bench, I notice a shadow from the corner of my eye, and my gaze shifts to Logan, whose jacket is soaked from following me the entire way. We lock eyes with the rain wetting our hair.

  Getting up from the bench, I take the few steps to him. His hands cover my cheeks, yet he doesn’t say a word as my sorrow breaks free and I rest my forehead against his chest while tears scald my skin. Logan’s arms circle around my middle, and he embraces me tightly as I grip the lapels of his jacket, finding comfort in the heat of his solid chest and having his strong arms around me.

  Eventually, he tucks my hair behind my ear and asks, “What’s wrong, cricket?”

  “Cricket?” I echo.

  “Yeah, it fits you. I’m surprised you aren’t chattering and chirping,” he teases.

  A laugh escapes me. Somehow, I don’t mind this pet name. I pull back and look up through my lashes. “I don’t chirp.”

  “Usually, when you talk, all I hear is chirping.” He smirks.

  A drop of water trickles down his blond hair that’s falling over his forehead, and I wipe it away, tracing his eyebrow as I get lost in his blue eyes. I inhale a deep breath, but nothing comes out as the pouring rain turns into a light drizzle.

  “Tell me what happened,” he prompts, firmer, sounding worried. “Are you sick?”

  I shake my head.

  “Then why were you at the doctor?” His palm is stroking my back in a soothing way.

  “She told me I’m in premature menopause. I can’t have children,” I confess, needing to tell another person.

  He touches my dimple as a sympathetic look crosses his angular face.

  “It was just a shock to find out,” I add.

  “Do you want children?” He caresses my temples and cheeks, warming my skin with the heat of his, erasing the rain and tears in the gentlest manner.

  “Yes, I’ve always wanted children of my own,” I admit, and a small smile tugs at his lips. “It’s not like I was trying to get pregnant now, but I suddenly feel lost.”

  “You feel the loss of the child you know you wanted,” he comments with a melancholic flicker in his eyes.

  Then his arms drop from around my waist as if he’s just realized the bizarre intimacy of our stance. He points to the bench as the clouds break open. A ray of sunlight streams through as we sit down. Logan stretches his arm behind my back, and without thinking, I snuggle into his side and he stiffens for a split-second.

  Oh, shit, that wasn’t an invitation to cuddle again. I stay where I am anyway, and he relaxes gradually.

  I continue, “Yes, actually, that’s exactly what it is,” and look up at him in question.

  As he speaks, he’s in another world. “I know how it is to lose a child. The feeling of loss never goes away, and I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.”

  I gape at him. “You had a child?”

  He watches the river. “A son named Logan; that’s why I don’t like hearing that name anymore.”

  Hesitantly, I place my palm over his heart. “Tell me about him.” I’m eager to learn more about this enigmatic man, even though I shouldn’t.

  For several seconds, he’s quiet before revealing, “He was born premature. At first, I didn’t want him; I was such a boy back then. He was from a one night stand. But Nana forced me to do the right thing. His mother was an addict. She was already six months pregnant when I found her drugged up. She’d used heroin throughout the pregnancy. My son was born too early, and I had to watch his little body go through withdrawal.”

  “Oh, Logan.”

  “It was hell to see him fight to survive, to see my baby shiver because his mother couldn’t keep away from drugs. From the start, I wasn’t there for him to protect him, and he died after two weeks. He was the second person I’ve loved who died in my arms. The memory of him haunts me. You’re not alone, Rosa. We all feel lost sometimes,” he says tenderly, staring down at me.

  The pull I have toward him deepens. Logan doesn’t move a muscle, and I edge closer to his face. Then his freaking phone rings, and we both straighten.

  Logan checks the screen and leaps up – obviously in a hurry. “I’ll walk you back. Are you going home?”

  “Okay. And yes, I’m going home,” I lie and push my own sorrow aside, remembering that right now, I need to meet Mykhail, who’s in more trouble.

  We rush back to our cars. Instead of going toward Lincoln Park, I drive to the Loop’s city center. And I realize I entirely forgot to even ask why Logan was stalking me at the hospital.

  CHAPTER 8

  Logan

  After I watch Rosa drive away, I call and order a guard to tail her home. I shed my wet jacket inside my vehicle and crank up the heat so that my damp slacks can dry while I’m churning with clashing sensations. I’ve never spoken about my son to anyone before – ever. It felt freeing to do so. For as busy as I always am, that was the first peaceful moment I’ve experienced in years. Her heartache brought back mine, along with an unexpected need to comfort her. She’s fascinating me more every time I see her. There’s an unpredicted gracefulness to her honesty, and I like how she’s opened up to me. With any other woman, I’d push her away immediately. But with Rosa, I don’t want to. And that beguiling dimple is driving me crazy. Moreover, after she huddled against me, the irresistible contours of her body are now imprinted in
my brain.

  My phone beeps, breaking my trance, so I hold it up while watching the road as well. Luca flashes across the screen.

  I answer instantly, “Yes.”

  “We have a new problem,” Luca explains. “Adriano and I have decided to move every relative to Club 7 as soon as possible because Ukrainians are retaliating. We’re going to attack all safe houses tonight. Is Rosalia with you?”

  “I just left her and told her to go home.”

  “Well, go get her again,” he tells me.

  “Are you serious? I just got a message to come back to Club 7, so I let her go. Now you’re telling me the exact opposite? There’s a guard following her, by the way.”

  “That’s why I called you. She shook off her guard.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me? Is Henry with you? Can he see where she is now?”

  “She’s going toward downtown, the Loop.”

  “You guys are killing me,” I grind out. “Fine. I’ll let you know when I have her.” I fling the device onto the passenger seat and yank on my steering wheel to make a U-turn, ignoring a honking vehicle.

  Unnerved that Rosa outsmarted her guard, I hit the gas and head toward the downtown Loop.

  CHAPTER 9

  Rosalia

  I press the doorbell at a skyscraper in the city center of the Loop while stealing glances around me. As agreed, I ring it five consecutive times so that Mykhail knows it’s me.

  “Rosalia?” he answers.

  “Yeah, it’s me. Hurry and open up; we have trouble.”

  I’m buzzed inside and march up the stairs to the second floor where he swings the door open and I race inside.

  “What’s wrong? Did you find out anything at Club 7 last night?” Mykhail asks, pulling a lime green polo shirt over his head.

  “Yes, someone mentioned they have safe places to investigate.” I went to Club 7 for one reason: to retrieve information about Dimitri Medlov.

  “Who? Adriano or your father?”

  “No, someone named Henry said that to Logan. I’ve heard his name before. I’m guessing he’s the Syndicate’s hacker. Anyway, on my way driving over here, I saw a guard trailing me, and I think I lost him, but it’s possible that he knows about this address.”

  “Shit!” Mykhail rakes his hands through his hair.

  “Mykhail, maybe the Syndicate will help you?” I insist.

  He lowers his arms and gives me a cynical look. “They won’t. Did you know they killed our underboss’s wife? And they kidnapped his child. What do you think they’ll do to me and Adam?”

  “I don’t know! But this is becoming dangerous for me too. I’m involved with Syndicate business without them knowing. My father will be furious.”

  “But you’re his daughter; he won’t kill you, Rosalia. I’m afraid for Adam and me. Dimitri just up and left us to our own devices. Fucking asshole!”

  The problem herein lies in the fact that my own involvement is putting me in the line of fire. While both Mykhail and I are despairing over what to do, Adam shuffles from around the corner into the hallway, wearing only his pants and clutching a jar filled with cream in his two tiny hands. He just woke up, because his curls are in disarray, and he squints while inspecting me suspiciously as he stops next to Mykhail’s leg.

  Adam yanks his slacks, requesting in the cutest tone, “Myk, medicine.”

  As he extends his arm, I see purple markings on his skin.

  Mykhail rubs his head affectionately. “Hey, little man. We’ll do that later. Go put on your shirt.”

  I inch closer, but Adam immediately retreats behind Mykhail’s legs. “It’s okay. This is Rosalia. She’s my friend and won’t hurt you.”

  “Did your father cause those bruises on Adam?” I probe. Fury crawls over my skin.

  “Yes,” Mykhail admits. “Adam has been through enough already, Rosalia. I’m the only one left to protect him. I can’t let the Syndicate find us.”

  As I stare into Adam’s cherubic, innocent face, I’m incapable of turning them over to the Syndicate without knowing the consequences. I have to buy Mykhail time. “Okay, then we need to go. Now.”

  Mykhail nods and lifts Adam into his arms, disappearing into the living room while speaking, “I’m just throwing on his shirt and shoes and getting his bag.”

  “Hurry.” I return to the door and check the peephole before pushing down the lever and perusing the empty hallway, detecting no movement outside the door. “Do you have a car here in the garage, Mykhail?”

  “Yes.”

  While the coast is clear, I swivel back around into the apartment and snatch a Disney Cars jacket just when Mykhail comes back with a fully clothed Adam clasping his hand.

  I wink at Adam, crouch down, and hold open his jacket. “Shall we wear your jacket?” He hesitates, so I add, “This is such a cool coat. If you don’t wear it, I will.” I pretend to shove my arm into the sleeve.

  “No, silly,” Adam scolds sweetly. “That’s not for girls.” He releases Mykhail’s hand to steal back his jacket.

  “Oh, well, then you should wear it,” I suggest, and he slides his arms in. I zip it closed, wiggling Adam left and right until he’s laughing like he doesn’t have a care in the world as Mykhail grabs his keys.

  “All done. Shall we go?” I offer my hand to Adam.

  He enthusiastically tucks his small hand into mine now that the ice has been broken. I give it a squeeze, and he mirrors the action, giggling.

  “Come on,” Mykhail urges and leads the way down the stairs.

  “I think it’s best if we split up in case any Syndicate guards recognize me. You take your car to my pool house, and I’ll drive my own car home. Then we’ll meet there, okay? No one will go into my pool house if I’m not there, so just lock it up and close all the curtains if you get there before I do.”

  “Okay.”

  Mykhail takes Adam’s hand, and I wave goodbye as he skips next to Mykhail toward the car, oblivious to any impending danger.

  I need to walk three blocks to my car. Chances are high that I’ll come across a guard since I already saw one on the way over, so I venture inside the first clothing store I stumble upon and take enough items on my way to the cash registers to fill at least two bags. Quickly, I pay for them and abandon the shop.

  Two blocks later, I discover my sense of foreboding was correct. Yet I don’t run into a guard. In fact, I run into the man I’m drawn to more and more every time I’m with him. He’s becoming the object of my affection in all his masculine charisma that I found arrogant before, and he was my comfort when I learned the worst news of my life this morning.

  Logan stands out among everyone passing him by. There’s an air of confidence about him, which I perceived as superiority before I knew him, but it’s an undeniable magnetism I can no longer ignore. Although I assumed that a man like Logan, who could have anyone he wants, would never be attracted to a girl like me, the last few times I’ve seen him have proved the opposite. Our relationship is turning over a new leaf, and there’s a tenderness inside him that he revealed when he comforted me at the river.

  However, right now, his manner conveys pure annoyance. His dirty blond hair is a perfect mess of spiked strands that mark him as untamable as he barks into his phone, “Where exactly did you see her last?”

  I still don’t understand who Logan is, but I’m guessing he’s one of the higher-ups in the Syndicate. As he turns his head and spots me, he cuts the call and closes the distance between us remarkably fast.

  “What are you doing here?” Logan takes hold of my upper arm, scanning both ends of the street.

  “I went shopping to get my mind off things.” I jerk away from his hold, and he lets me go, seeing my bags and accepting my explanation. “Why?” I add.

  “Because you shook off your guard, Goddammit!” He keeps glancing around.

  “So they sent you to get me?” I question, wanting some answers.

  He pays me no heed and shunts me forward, pressing close against my
back.

  “No, Logan. Why are you here? Where are we going?” I demand, knowing I need to get home to Mykhail.

  He simply snatches my biceps and guides me forward, quickly reminding me why we disliked each other in the past and literally manhandling me like he did the first few times we met.

  I grind my teeth, irked at his bold, distant behavior and how easily he can overpower me at the same time that I’ve been crushing on him.

  “Every time I turn around, you’re here; I’m starting to think you can’t stay away.” I perk a brow.

  In response, his lips twitch, but he’s not tempted into a debate.

  “Don’t you dare grin,” I warn.

  “You’re sexy when you’re mad.”

  “What?”

  A smirk crosses his face.

  “Oh, please. Don’t use your charm on me.” He’s too distracting.

  “As much as I’m enjoying teasing you, you need to start walking. Now, Rosa,” he orders in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

  Of course, I notice his veiled praise and can’t help but smile. He’s starting to see me as more than just Cam’s sister.

  “Okay, but, Logan, first tell me. Is there trouble? You’re constantly showing up to take me away from everywhere,” I prompt him to confirm.

  “Yes, there’s trouble. So can you just listen to me and obey? I’ll tell you when the coast is clear.”

  There’s a difference in his attitude toward me. The annoyance seems to not be directed at me, but at the situation. He’s quite preoccupied. Instead of dismissing me, he’s treating me more like...a woman, maybe? I can’t say that I don’t like it.

  “Okay.” I might get vital information from Logan that can help Mykhail and Adam. Though I’m also finding his company much more favorable these days.

  “Move, little grasshopper,” he whispers into my ear from behind and jostles me forward, causing me to stumble. Effortlessly, he keeps me steady with one hand around my arm.

  “Can’t you call me Rosalia for once? And what the fuck is up with the insect names?” I’m propelled forward by my shoulder.