by S. C. Daiko
She’s a good mother, it occurs to me.
And I’ll be a good father to my boy, so help me God.
After we arrive at the Petrenkos’, and Eva’s mom and dad have kissed and cooed over Kir, expressing their relief that he’s on the mend, we go through to their small living room. Eva places our son on the floor, and he toddles over to his toy box in the corner of the room.
“No easy way to say this,” she grabs both parents’ hands, “so I’ll come right out with it. Gleb is Kir’s papa.”
Again, I’m surprised by her candor; there’s so much I have yet to learn about my kitten.
Ludmila Petrenko gives a yelp. Ivan simply squeezes his eyes shut.
They ask myriad questions, to which Eva responds calmly. She again highlights her fear that I might have taken Kir away due to her melt-down.
“That’s not on the cards,” I reassure them. “I will stand by your daughter, support her and my son.”
I wait for their reaction, pulling in a deep breath.
A slow smile spreads over Ivan’s face, and Ludmila reaches out to Eva, enveloping her in a hug.
“Thank you,” Ludmila says to me. She offers me tea, which I accept for politeness’ sake. Eva goes to fix Kir a drink in his sippy cup and settles him on her lap.
I can’t remember the last time I sat and drank tea like this. Such a Russian thing to do; it gives me a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. I glance at Eva, give her a brief nod.
“There’s something else,” she says with her habitual directness. “Kir and I will be moving in with Gleb right away.”
Ludmila releases a groan. She tugs at her graying hair. Skin bunches around her eyes, and she shoots me a pained look. “I helped bring Kir up,” she wails, tears furrowing her cheeks. “He’s like my own little boy. Please don’t take him away from me.”
I decide to come clean about Vadim. “If he finds out about Kir, he might try and get to him. He’s already got Eva in his sights. I need time to prepare to take him down,” I deliberately keep my voice calm. “In the meantime, Eva and our boy will be safe with me.”
Eva reaches across and strokes her mother’s arm. “Gleb says you can visit whenever you want, Mama. Every day if you like.”
Ludmila nods, sniffing and wiping at her nose. “I know it’s for your protection, my dear,” she touches the gold cross at her neck for comfort, “but it’s hard.” She huffs out a sigh. “I hope you understand.”
I reiterate my promise she can have full access to her grandson. What else can I do?
Kir finishes his drink and squirms to be put down. But Eva lifts him up and sniffs his butt. “This little guy needs changing,” she announces. “Come with me, Mama, and help me pack our things.”
They do as Eva suggests, leaving Ivan and me glaring at each other. Petrenko has been silent since his daughter dropped the bombshell of moving out.
“I’m prepared to write off your debt,” I say to him, my head cocked to the side. “And I’d like to invest in your business, help you get back on your feet.”
“Thank you,” he presses his thin lips together. “Even before you came here today I was going to tell you something.” He strokes his throat and grimaces. “I despise Vadim Rayt. Would you believe his second-in-command came to me yesterday? He offered me a shit load of money if I would sell my daughter to him.”
“You refused, of course,” l scowl.
“Of course, he’s even worse than you.” Ivan’s tone lacks guile. “You might be a beast, but that man is a monster.”
I bark out a laugh.
If only you knew, Ivan how different my debts are to yours.
Chapter Forty-Three
Eva
Kir falls asleep during the ride to Gleb’s place but wakes up as soon as Yuri brings the Merc to a halt after we’ve gone through automatic iron gates and pulled up on the gravel driveway in front of a house, or should I say mansion, that takes my breath.
“It’s amazing,” I can’t help gushing. And it is... I’ve dreamed of living in a colonial-style house. Never thought it would happen...
“I’ll show you around,” Gleb reaches across the seat to unbuckle our son.
Kir is cranky, having just woken from a nap, and he lets out a cry of irritation. I hand him his pacifier, which immediately soothes him. Gleb lifts him up.
I stare at them both, so alike in many ways, and yet so different. Have I done the right thing moving in with a man I barely know? I didn’t have much choice, given the circumstances. I pull my denim jacket tight around myself and reach for my suitcase. But before I can even touch the handle, Yuri has taken it from me.
I thank him, my belly fluttering. This burly man scares me; his arms are like sides of ham and I’d already noticed the two eight-pointed star tattoos below his collar-bones when he loosened his necktie and shirt earlier.
I shiver, an icy sensation trickling down my spine. Then I catch Yuri looking at Kir with a goofy expression on his face. His cold pale blue eyes have turned warm, so I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.
I’ve thrown in my lot with these Vory, I remind myself, shaking my head. I’ll just have to get used to them, get used to a new way of life.
My brows pull in.
This arrangement isn’t permanent.
Something will happen to end it.
I only hope no one gets hurt.
My morbid thoughts are interrupted by Gleb introducing me to his housekeeper, Olga. She’s slightly younger than Mama, less gray but curvier. Her round face beams as he shows off Kir, pride shining in his eyes. “This is my son.” He glances at me like he’s only just remembered my existence. “And this is Kir’s mother, Eva. They’ll be living here now.”
If Olga is surprised by Gleb’s statement, she doesn’t show it. Maybe Brash has already briefed her? I look around for him, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
With Kir still in his arms, Gleb takes us on a guided tour. Each room is spacious and drenched with light. I love the gorgeous gourmet kitchen with expensive-looking appliances, pristine white cabinets and a large island in the center. French doors open onto a big family room with a log-burning fireplace. In addition, there’s a formal dining room and living room, decorated in a contemporary style with sleek curving lines and no clutter whatsoever.
I reach down and twist my wrist. This place is far too swanky for the likes of me and Kir. What if he gets sticky fingers on the clean surfaces? Then I remember it was Gleb who insisted we move in with him.
He’ll just have to suffer the consequences ... and so will I.
“I’ll show you to your rooms,” he says, leading me back to the entrance hall and up a wide staircase. He ushers me into the guest bedroom with ensuite. My suitcase and Kir’s bag have already been placed on the varnished wood floor. Gleb tells me a toddler bed will be delivered later today.
“Can Kir sleep in here with me?” I bite at my lip. “He doesn’t have his own room at home. He’s not used to being on his own.”
And I’m not used to being away from him.
Gleb raises a brow. Is he thinking that I pamper our son? I grit my teeth.
He has no clue what I’ve been through.
How I had to fight to overcome my depression.
How I can’t let down my defenses in case I have another melt-down.
Gleb hands Kir over to me with a smirk. “This little guy needs a diaper change, I think. I’ll meet you both downstairs.”
I lay Kir down on the bed as Gleb leaves us to our own devices. “Your papa is a beast,” I tell my baby, blowing a raspberry into his soft warm cheek, “but it looks like we’re stuck with him.”
For now.
Brash joins us for lunch in the kitchen. I’m relieved we’re eating informally, given those clean surfaces in the formal dining room. Olga has made a peanut butter sandwich for Kir, cut into strips, which he chews on enthusiastically while we all dive into hamburgers and fries.
Brash keeps up a running banter with my son, te
lling him he’s stoked to have a cousin and how he can’t wait to introduce him to the rest of the family. He taps his chin and darts his gaze from me to Gleb and back to me again. “You are bringing Eva and Kir to Colorado with us next week, aren’t you, Uncle?”
Yikes, I’d forgotten Gleb was sending his nephew home. I’d presumed he wasn’t going with him, though.
The Beast clears his throat. “Jesus, Brash. I was going to broach the subject with Eva at the right moment...”
My heart races wildly. “What subject?”
“I’m taking you and Kir with us,” he says in a dry tone.
I put down my fork, anger boiling my blood. “Don’t I have any say in the matter?”
“No, you don’t,” the Beast glares at me.
I glare back at him and fold my arms across my chest. “I’m his mother not his nanny looking after him for you.” I lift my chin. “I’ve raised Kir his whole life. You’ve been his father for less than forty-eight hours.”
He pushes his shoulders back. “Don’t fight me on this, Elousha. You’re not going to win.”
“Let me remind you Kir just got out of hospital. It might be too much for him to fly in a plane this soon,” I clutch at a straw.
“I’ll clear it with Dr. Hughes,” Gleb’s voice is low-pitched and steady. “It’s the only way I can be guaranteed of keeping you and our son safe.”
“But you promised Mama she can see him every day,” I huff out a noisy breath. “If your security is as great as you say, there shouldn’t be any problems.”
He shoots me an exasperated look. “I’m chartering a private jet. Your mom can come along too. The more the merrier,” he quips. “End of argument.”
“But...” I don’t get to finish my retort that Mama has a phobia about flying. Gleb has already pushed back his chair and has gotten to his feet.
“Stay here with Brash, Eva. I need to go to the club and arrange for your replacement. Also make sure Tiana and Sergei are up to speed and can manage without me next week.”
He bends and kisses the top of Kir’s head, then spins on his heel without another word, leaving me staring after him open-mouthed.
I can’t look at Brash I’m so mad. “Your uncle is a control-freak,” I mutter.
Brash lets out a brittle laugh. “He has to be.”
I stare at him and tilt my head to the side. “What do you mean?”
“He lives in a dangerous world, Eva. You and even I don’t know what he’s gone through to get to where he is now.” Brash rubs at his brow. “Just cut him some slack, okay?”
I run my hands through my hair. “I’ll try.”
And I will. Gleb has been generous to me and our son. I owe him some respect, I decide.
I only hope I don’t lose myself in the process, though.
“Down,” Kir suddenly squeals from where he’s sitting in the high chair Olga keeps for the occasions her grandkids visit.
I wipe his peanut-butter smeared face and sticky fingers, unbuckle him and set him on his feet. “Is there somewhere Kir can play with his toys and not mess up Gleb’s beautiful home?” I ask Brash.
“Sure,” his smile is easy. “Follow me.”
We go down to the lower level where there’s an office, a laundry, a gym, a playroom and a four-car garage. Brash tells me he’s good with kids. “My half-brothers and sister are years younger than my step-sis and me,” he explains. “They annoyed the shit out of Becca and me until we learned how to deal with them.”
I fetch Kir’s plastic bricks from his bag upstairs. Brash gets down on the carpeted floor in the playroom with him. They start building a tower together while I sit on the sofa and put a call through to Mama.
I begin by describing Gleb’s mansion, then lead up to telling her about Colorado. She’s conflicted about coming with us, as I knew she would be.
“But,” I hear the fear in her voice, “I can’t fly. You know I can’t...”
“You haven’t been on a plane since we travelled from Russia seven years ago,” I point out. “That took hours and hours. No wonder you freaked out.”
“I’d never flown before and I swore I would never do so again.” She pauses, and I guess she’s struggling to find the right words. “Why not leave Kir with Papa and me?”
I almost laugh out loud. “Gleb won’t agree. He’s embraced fatherhood like he’s been converted to a new religion. And he’s filled with paranoia about keeping his son and me safe.”
Mama hums. “I’m still not happy,” I hear her pull in then slowly release a deep breath, “but I’ll do it to be with Kir.... And you, of course.”
“Will Papa be alright on his own?”
“I’ll cook some freezer meals for him… he won’t starve.”
We laugh together at that, and I feel an easing of the tension that had been making my chest hurt.
I end the call and pinch my lower lip between my fingers. “Tell me more about your family,” I ask Brash. “I’m nervous about meeting them.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Eva
I spend an hour unpacking while Brash looks after Kir for me. At around four, a delivery van arrives... not only with the toddler bed but also a changing table, a baby alarm and a whole bunch of other stuff. My hands shake as I open boxes filled with every toy and stuffed animal a fifteen-month kid could want, as well as dozens of cute little outfits, and other shit like Sippy cups and so on... even though I brought Kir’s with us.
It’s all too much.
Quickly, I hide the toys in a cupboard.
I’ll give them to him one at a time.
I don’t want to spoil him.
Gleb still hasn’t returned home when Kir has his supper. Olga makes him spaghetti hoops with Bolognese sauce and pureed carrots, and I let him feed himself with his own spoon while surreptitiously feeding him at the same time. He’s growing in independence, but I still haven’t managed to wean him off his bottle. I mention as much to Olga.
“He’ll let you know when he’s ready to give it up,” she says with a warm smile.
“How long have you worked for Gleb?” I ask casually.
“Five years,” she glances away from me and shrugs. “He’s a demanding boss, but good to his staff. My husband is one of his men.”
I twist a lock of hair around my finger. There’s so much I have yet to learn about the father of my son. He’s like a chameleon, constantly changing his colors to suit different situations. The way he acts around Kir shows he has a heart... at least as far as my baby is concerned. Except, a man with a heart wouldn’t be a Vor, surely?
Kir has finished eating, so I wipe the mess off his face. “Down,” he announces.
“Time for your bath, young man,” I respond firmly. “You’ve had a long day, and I need to give you some medicine before bed.”
His big blue eyes well with tears as he asks for his grandma.
“Baba will come tomorrow,” I tell him. “I have a surprise for you. Papa has bought you a new toy.”
“And Papa can’t wait to watch you play with it.” Gleb’s deep voice resounds from the doorway.
He unbuckles Kir, and before I can even thank him for the gifts, he lifts him up and heads toward the stairs.
I follow in their wake, then stand and drink in the sight of Gleb kneeling and bathing his son. They mess about with the toy submarine I take from the cupboard, laughing together, pulling the cord that makes the propeller spin and pushing it through the water; I’m totally lost for words.
Who is this man?
Except he stops short at putting Kir’s diaper on him, claiming he has no clue. I reserve the task for myself. I mean, I can’t have him take over from me completely, can I?
Then I relent, catching the longing in Gleb’s expression. “Do you want to give him his bottle?”
“Thought you’d never ask,” he chuckles.
“Thank you for buying Kir all those things,” I say, placing our baby in his arms after I’ve finished putting on his diaper and onesie. �
��You’ve spoiled him, though.”
“Just making up for lost time.” Our eyes lock, and his electrifying blues say so much. I know he still doesn’t understand why I kept his son from him.
I give Kir his antibiotic syrup. He pulls a face and his little mouth turns down at the corners. “Be a good boy for Papa,” I say quietly.
My heart does a weird little flip as I watch Gleb bottle feeding his baby. I give a slow, disbelieving shake of my head and tell my heart not to be stupid. Gleb is still a beast and I need to keep up my defenses.
Later, after we’ve eaten with Brash, Olga and Dmitry in the kitchen, Brash leaves for work and I fully expect Gleb to do the same.
“No need,” he says, taking me by the hand and leading me through to the family room. “I don’t go to the club every night. Some nights I have other business to attend to.” His smirk is so damn sexy it sends tingles right through me. “Let’s check if the audio baby monitor is working.”
I stand next to Gleb by the crackling log fire, and we listen to Kir’s regular breathing coming through the device he and Brash had set up before dinner. We’re so close, I feel the heat radiating from Gleb’s body, and it makes me hot and bothered. I swallow hard, kick off my Keds and go to sit on the sofa.
He turns and watches me through narrowed predator eyes. “So, how do parents make out when they’ve got a kid?”
I’m so surprised, I ignore his question.
Gleb, playing mommies and daddies? He’s messing with me, isn’t he?
Except, he isn’t. It appears he’s deadly serious when he lowers himself beside me. “Want to make out, Elousha?”
He tilts my chin up. I stare into his mesmerizing eyes. Is it so wrong to want him? To want, as he so flippantly puts it, to make out?
