Chapter 140 Chapter 140 Turning 21
As soon as Jax releases me, my girls close ranks around me—Yesenia, Mia, Tiana, Gemma, Tish, and Erika—like a damn shield wall. They block the knuckleheads from getting anywhere near me. Ivan tries to push past Gemma, and she throws a knee at him. He doesn’t fold—she missed—but the intent is loud and clear. Mia doesn’t bother with subtlety, telling both him and Dimitri to fuck off. For once, they actually listen. They retreat, heading back to their seats.
“Thank you, my life preservers,” I say, exhaling. “I owe you guys.”
“You looked like you needed help,” Tish says. “Gemma had to hold us back for a second.”
My eyes drift across the room. “Mike has been patient, watching me dance with all those assholes. Look at him—he didn’t run, didn’t get mad.”
We all turn. Mike catches us looking and smiles, lifting his glass in a quiet toast.
“Okay,” Tiana says, tilting her head. “So he’s not your usual type. Is he at least nice?”
“So far, yes,” I answer. “I’ll tell you everything tomorrow… or Sunday when we play tennis. Actually—wait—is there something else the seven of us can do together?”
It spills out fast, messy, but they get it.
“We should go to the park and play soccer,” Yesenia suggests.
I grin. “Do you guys want to play the Pavlovs?”
Mia winks. “That sounds… fun.”
“I’ll text you,” I say. “Now I’m heading out for that test drive.” I shoot them a look. “But first—shots.”
Gemma’s expression softens. “I’ve missed you.”
Something in my chest tightens, but I nod. We head back to Mike, I introduce him to the rest of the girls, and we all take birthday shots together. The burn goes down easier this time. Then I grab his hand and start pulling him toward the exit.
“Your place or mine?” I ask.
“Mine,” he says, easy.
“I need to talk to the Pavlovs first, then we can go.” My eyes flick toward my father. “I’ll probably have to introduce you to him too. Sorry in advance—he’s a grade-A asshole.”
We weave through the crowd, cutting across the room until I’m standing in front of the Pavlov boys—most of them anyway. The others are still crowding Vladimira like flies.
I plant my palms on the table. “How long are you guys in town for?”
Jax raises a brow. “Why, doll?”
“My friends and I want to play soccer in the park. There are only seven of us. Care to join?” I grin.
“We’re in!” Dimitri jumps in immediately.
“Wasn’t talking to you,” I snap.
“We’re a package deal,” Sal adds, completely unbothered.
I snort. “Fine.”
Then, out of nowhere—
“Yulia and I can even the numbers out,” Vladimira says calmly. “I can do other things with my legs other than spread them.”
Silence.
Complete, suffocating silence.
It’s like the entire club just cuts out, like someone muted the world. I turn my head toward her slowly. Something about her feels different—softer, maybe… calmer.
I give her a small nod. It doesn’t break the tension, but it’s all I have.
Mike’s hand brushes my lower back, grounding me again.
“Elena, are you on your way out?” my father’s voice cuts in, pushing through the crowd like he owns the air.
I step away from the table, moving past Ivan and Dimitri’s booth, stopping in front of him and Illia Sr.
“Mike,” I say, “this is my father and my godfather.”
They shake his hand—firm, silent, assessing.
“Are you going home?” my father asks, taking a slow sip of his drink.
“Yes,” I lie.
He huffs out a laugh. “That was a good lie.”
“Goddaughter,” Illia Sr. mutters in our native tongue, “did I not tell you and Jax your age difference is too large? He is old enough to be your father.”
I lean forward slightly, my voice low. “Do you really have space to talk about that? Or would you like to discuss your forest activities?”
I catch Vladimira shifting in her seat, listening.
“She gets bolder every year,” my father says, amused—until he isn’t. His expression hardens. “What the fuck are you doing with this?” he switches to Bulgarian. “He is ugly.”
That does it.
Anger hits fast, sharp. I am so fucking tired of this. This is my second date in over a year. I’m not even dating him—probably never will. Why does it matter what he looks like?
“Pretty faces,” I say, my voice steady but tight, “equal empty words, mean words, broken hearts, and nights spent crying. Faces mean nothing. Men are only good for one thing anyway.”
“Enlighten me,” my father shoots back.
I almost do it. I almost say it out loud—that the only thing that matters is whether the dick is good, that most men are useless when it comes to love, that they only ever look out for themselves.
But even in my head, I sound bitter. Worn out. Still broken.
I inhale slowly, forcing it down.
“Have a good night, father,” I say instead, stepping back. “You too, godfather.”
For once, I don’t escalate. I don’t take the bait. I walk away.
On the way out, I stop long enough to hug Vince, Matt, and even Andreas, muttering quick goodbyes.
Outside, the air hits different. Cooler. Cleaner. I can finally breathe. My body loosens, the tension draining out of me in waves. Mike stays steady beside me, not shaken by any of it.
A town car pulls up. A suited driver steps out. Then another from the passenger side. They both stand there.
“Give him your ticket,” Mike says. “He’ll bring your car to my place.”
I hand it over without question.
Mike opens the back door for me, and I slide in. When he joins me on the other side, I turn toward him.
“Thank you.”
He tilts his head. “For what?”
“For not trying to save me. For not jumping in, not making it worse. For not walking away when things got… intense.”
He studies me for a second, then nods. “I think you can handle yourself. But don’t mistake that for weakness on my part. If you need me to step in, you tell me. If this—” he gestures between us “—goes further, I will.”
I hold his gaze for a moment, something unfamiliar settling in my chest. Not fire. Not chaos.
Just… steady.