He pays for a round of all eighteen holes and takes our scorecard. He writes our names on it, hands me my club and ball, and takes his own.
“Ready to get your ass whipped?” he says with a grin.
“It’s supposed to be fun,” I point out.
He chuckles. “It will be fun to whip your ass.”
“Oh, it’s on like Donkey Kong,” I say. “I get to start because I’m the lady.”
“Ma’am, please go right ahead.” He motions to the first hole. “I’ve paid them well enough that we have the whole place to ourselves.”
I grin. “I actually like that.” I put my ball down in the marked spot and look up. I take careful aim, but before I can strike, he says. “Woah. Stop. That’s now how you do this.”
He sets his things down and comes behind me. I’m acutely aware of his body molding to mine as he wraps his arms around me to reposition my hands. “Open your legs a little wider. Keep your hands together like this. Yes. Now, you’re going to swing back, and when you come forward, you’re going to keep it straight. Otherwise, the ball will veer off.”
I can smell the musky odor of his cologne, and I am momentarily distracted as he takes my swing back and helps me swing forward. The ball goes up the little ramp and into the monkey’s mouth. There’s a plop as it falls out the other side and stops near the hole.
“Did you see that?” I ask excitedly as he lets go of me, and I turn to look at him. “Did you see what I did?”
He smiles. “Go put it in, and then I’ll go.”
It takes us two hours to get through the entire course because we keep stopping and teasing each other and, honestly because I don’t want it to end.
When we’re done, he hands our stuff back in and pays the clerk for two ice creams in polystyrene cups with strawberry sauce on top.
We move to the eating area with our ice creams and sit on the table with our feet on the bench.
“I love ice cream,” I say as I lick some off my little plastic spoon. “Especially soft serve, it’s my favorite.”
“If it’s your favorite, then you should make it the dessert at the wedding.” He smiles at me.
“Why are you like this?” I ask suddenly, frowning.
He raises an eyebrow. “Like what?” he asks.
“You’re so fun and spontaneous and nice to be around sometimes, and then when we’re with other people, you’re a…a…douche.” I sigh. “Why can’t you always be this nice.”
He sighs and rests his arms on his legs, leaning forward. “I’m not just the leader of some mafia family,” he says, glancing at me and meeting my eyes. “I’m the leader of the entire Vegas Bratva, of all the Russian families in this area. My family is the example by which all other families are led. They follow every word I say and every command I make. I can’t be seen as weak, not even for a moment. Not even if I want to have a moment.” He smiles sadly at me. “I can’t let them know you’re my weakness or that you’re soft. Because you will be the queen of an empire that spans back generations.”
He’s said that before—a queen. I didn’t realize how big a deal he was, but now that I know, I’m a little impressed that I will be like a proper queen—even if it is of the underworld.
I eat my ice cream thoughtfully before saying, “I have to start questioning my morals.”
“Why? You seem like a good person,” he says, nudging me.
“Cause the thought of being a queen is pretty cool, and I don’t think it’s the right choice to enjoy it.” I smile back at him. “Or am I being childish again?”
“You need to act like a queen, which sometimes means doing cold, hard things in the name of the family or to protect the family. That’s why I haven’t allowed you near other family members since the incident with Zakhar. I don’t want any of them getting it into their heads that they can get to me through you.”
Now is as good a time as any, I guess. “Kervyn. Can I ask you something?” I ask quietly.
“Of course. Whatever you want,” he says, turning to face me properly.
“This is going to be my one and only wedding,” I say, casually looking at him.
“That’s right,” he confirms. “We don’t do divorce in my family.”
“Well, I’ve always had this super amazing plan for when I get married and things I wanted. I feel like your family is planning your wedding rather than our wedding.” I look at him and purse my lips. “There’s a lot I would change, I’m not going to lie.”
“Penny.” He sets his empty cup down next to him on the table. “You can have whatever the fuck you like.” He looks at me with a cheeky grin. “As far as I’m concerned, I have what I want. I have you and my child on its way. Do me one favor if you’re going to plant his wedding. Don’t hold back. Every little thing your heart desires, you can have. It’s yours. There is no cost too high that I won’t pay to make this day your most magical day ever.”
I bite my lip as I tear up.
“Don’t cry,” he says. “I’m sorry I’m not good at these things.”
I snort and laugh at the same time, and he chuckles. I shake my head. “You seem really good at these things, actually.”
He nods. “Let’s get you home before the pickle craving kicks in.”
“You had to say pickle,” I groan. “Now I want a pickle and have to wait until we get home.”
He laughs as we walk toward the exit. Briefly, our hands brush against each other, and he suddenly takes my hand in his.
As we leave, two men approach us, and I tense up, but Kervyn tilts his head. “Detectives. Wasn’t there a complaint a couple of weeks ago about harassment?”
One gentleman, the older one, steps forward. “Miss Penny Winters? You are safe now. You can come with us. We will protect you from this man.”
I look at him, confused, and then at Kervyn, who looks at me curiously.
