Lucas flashed his gaze back to me and then to the door. “Um….” He straightened.

No. Don’t leave me. Don’t let him stay. I wanted to yell it, scream it, but I couldn’t seem to bring myself to open my mouth.

“Okay?” He didn’t look back to me before he rushed from the room, or he would have seen me pleading with my eyes.

I heard the door close and then soft footsteps. Once Adrik was beside the bed, he sat in the armchair. I took him in. He looked… well, exhausted. Stubble covered his cheeks, chin, and above his upper lip. His hair was wild, his clothes wrinkled. Nothing like I’d seen him before.

Wiping at my eyes, I blanked my expression even when inside me all I wanted was to cry more, to scream, plead for him to leave… and yet, I still wanted to slip into his arms and have him hold me for the rest of my life.

But I couldn’t.

He sat on the edge of the seat and rested his forearms on the bed, bringing himself closer. “There are things I have to tell you.”

My broken heart skipped a beat. “What?” I whispered, and all other thoughts evaporated because he sounded so serious.

His gaze roamed over my face. “My last name is not Hail. It is Mikhaillova.” He paused as if he waited for a reaction, but it meant nothing to me. His gaze dropped to his clasped hands. “My family sees over many people in Russia. My father is in charge of the mafia there.”

My eyes widened.

Adrik nodded when he took in my reaction. “Da, I was a part of the mafia, but I longed for something more. It is why I moved here. I cut ties with the family business, but not my family. I would do anything for them.” His head cocked to the side, studying me. “Even though I am not part of what I left behind, there will always be a risk. Although we take many precautions that it will not touch my life now. It is the same when my parents visit.”

He stopped, and I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to say. Did he think it scared me knowing his family was in the mafia? It didn’t. I was shocked but not scared. How could I be when my life already consisted of men in a motorcycle club who were ruthless in their own way. Besides, that was in Russia; it wasn’t here. He’d cut ties with that side of things, that was what he said, and I believed him. I knew Adrik wouldn’t have been accepted as a client by Polished if he was into shady things.

“Okay,” I offered, not knowing what else to say.