by Daiko, SC
“I have two brothers and one sister.” No need to explain that my eldest sibling, Matthew, wasn’t related to me, nor that Jack and Olivia were only my half-siblings. My mother was in what’s known as a poly-relationship with my two dads, only one of whom was my biological father, of course. I doubted Emma would understand.
“I wish I had a brother or a sister,” she whispered, sticking out her bottom lip. “Sasha has a brother, but Papa won’t let me hang out at her place. She always comes here.”
I reached across the table and took her hand. “Maybe if I go with you, he’ll change his mind. I could ask him...”
She pressed her eyes shut. “Mrs. Konin offered a while ago, but he said no. He said it wouldn’t be safe.”
“One of the bodyguards could come with us. I’ll still ask him. I mean, there’s no harm in trying, is there?” I injected as much positivity into my voice as I could.
Emma’s eyes flew open and a smile lit up her sky-blue irises. “Thanks, Zoe. You’re the best.”
“And so are you, sweetheart.” I picked up her books. “Come on, let’s get you ready for your ballet class. Today you’re doing some on-pointe work, remember.”
Her face assumed a dreamy expression. “I’d so love to be a professional ballet dancer one day.” She blew out a breath. “But that’s not gonna happen. Papa will arrange a marriage for me, just like his and Mama’s was arranged.”
I gave her an incredulous stare, completely and utterly speechless. The Melekhovs’ marriage had been arranged?! Surely, that only happened in countries like India? And who would Taras arrange for Emma to marry here in the States? I couldn’t believe it.
“That’s a long way in the future,” I reassured her.
“Yeah, I know. I’ll be eighteen when it happens,” she gave a shudder. “Papa will find me a husband in the Vory. Someone linked to his businesses.”
Six years might seem like a lifetime to an almost twelve-year-old, but I hoped Taras would come to his senses before then. How could he treat his daughter like a commodity? I bristled with indignation for her.
We went to Emma’s room and she put on her leotard and tights. I tied her long, curly auburn hair up in a bun before we descended to the home gym in the basement where Mrs. Gorelov was already waiting for us.
I sat on a chair in the corner of the room and chewed the inside of my cheek, plotting how I would broach with Taras the subject of taking Emma over to Sasha’s. By the time Emma had finished her class, I’d worked out a plan. All I needed to do was carry it out.
* * *
Taras always ate dinner alone in the formal dining room after Emma had said goodnight to him. She was ready for bed, so I took her up to her bedroom and turned on the ceiling fan. Like me, she preferred to sleep without AC.
I smoothed the curls back from her forehead. “Sleep well, poppet.”
“G’night, Zoe,” she said sleepily.
Generally, I stayed in my own room in the evenings. After listening to Taras playing his cello, either I chatted to friends on social media or watched a movie before going to bed. Tonight, instead, I slipped into a halter-neck cotton dress, smoothed on some lip gloss and mascara, stepped into a pair of strappy sandals, and went downstairs. It didn’t seem appropriate to turn up in my usual shorts and t-shirt.
I bit at my lips as I walked through the doorway. Christ, what had gotten into me to even think of facing up to Taras? He was freaking scary and probably ate girls like me for breakfast. He’d warned me to stay away, and I didn’t trust my traitorous body around him.
A vision of Emma’s sad little face came into my mind. I owed it to the girl to try and make her life more normal. She was a child, for God’s sake, and deserved better.
“What the fuck?!” the expletive left Taras’ full lips with a snarl as he stubbed out the cigarette he was smoking and leapt to his feet.
“Please, I need to talk to you,” I said calmly even though my pulse had skyrocketed. “Hear me out.”
“Is there a problem?” His green eyes glittered like cold gemstones. “You should have approached Mrs. Konin.”
I stared at him and sucked in a gulp of air. “I promised Emma I’d speak to you directly.”
Taras pulled out a chair. “Take a seat, then.”
Holding my head up high, I did as he’d asked. I cleared my throat. “Nannies usually take kids on play dates. Emma would so love to hang out with Sasha at her place. She said you didn’t think it would be safe, but if we had one of your bodyguards accompany us…” The words left my mouth too fast, sounding futile to my ears.
He laughed. The damn man freaking laughed! “What qualifies you to suggest changes to the way I bring up my daughter?”
I looked him in the eye. “I’ve studied child development. Don’t you want Emma to be a fully-rounded person? Keeping her locked up in a gilded cage will have an adverse effect on her.”
He folded his arms across his chest, and I couldn’t help noticing how his sculpted biceps strained against the rolled-up sleeves of his white dress shirt. “I want the best for her, of course.” His expression had turned implacable. “I have enemies. People who would use her against me. I can’t put my daughter at risk.”
“There must be some way of ensuring that wouldn’t happen. I mean, you’re a powerful man. I’m sure you’d be able to guarantee her safety…” I finally said my piece, what I’d worked out I would say. And I said it with conviction.
He quirked a brow. “So, Mary Poppins knows how to use flattery.” His derisive laughter echoed through the room. “I’ll consider your request for Emma’s sake. Not making any promises, but I’ll give it some thought.”
I pushed myself to my feet. “Thank you. And please call me Zoe.” My cheeks burned. “I’m no Mary Poppins.”
Something flashed in his flinty green eyes. Was it amusement? Whatever it was, it had disappeared before I could identify it.
I twisted my fingers together. Should I compliment him on his musical ability? No, I’d said enough. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself…
“You’d better leave now, Zoe,” he said in his rich, melodic voice, raking his eyes up and down my body. “Before I do something I might later regret.”
His words sent a quiver through me, but I tried to ignore it. “Good night,” I muttered and made my way out the door. I placed a mental tick against the list in my head. The list of what I needed to persuade Taras to do for his daughter.
One down, several more to go.
Chapter Five
Taras
I leaned back in my chair, lit a Sobranie Black Russian, and watched Zoe leave the room: the skin of her bare shoulders delicately tanned; her nipped-in waist, curving hips and enticing ass.
Arousal flourished in my balls. Ridiculous the effect she had on me; she wasn’t my type. Far too young. Naïve. Principled.
With the body of a fucking goddess.
I closed my eyes and exhaled smoke. I’d seen the way she’d responded to me, her nipples pebbling the light cotton of that minxy little dress. Her pupils had dilated, and the way she’d bitten at her lip had made me so fucking hard I’d wanted to grab her, bend her over the table, and bury myself balls-deep inside her sweet pussy.
Hell, why was I even going there? Given half a chance, Mary Poppins would worm her way into my life, start trying to change things. Start trying to change me. That’s what women did once they got their feet in the door. Nina was a case in point. She’d married a big bad wolf when a lap dog would have suited her better.
I. Would. Not. Be. Changed.
Never let anyone see past my hard shell. Never show any weakness, any emotion. There were no chinks in my armor. At least not where the outside world was concerned…
Zoe thought I didn’t care about my daughter. She couldn’t have been more wrong. Mrs. Konin had recorded Zoe’s interview and had run it by me before offering her the job. I’d done background checks on her family, a strange set-up to say the least, but her parents’ poly relationshi
p with each other was all out in the open and I couldn’t find any other skeletons in their closet.
The references from Zoe’s last employer had been excellent; they’d been sorry to lose her but understanding of the fact she’d wanted to gain experience working in the States. I’d watched her responding to Mrs. Konin’s questions online. Dressed in a dark suit that day, Zoe had looked older than the fresh-faced woman I’d encountered on my morning run just over a week ago. Doubt I’d have offered her this job if I’d caught a glimpse of her tempting curves.
Except, temptation was something I could resist… and resist it I would. For Emma’s sake. Zoe was good for her, I could see that. Despite her meddling, Mary Poppins had connected with my daughter far better than any of the previous girls we’d employed. I’d watched her and Emma together without them realizing. My daughter’s face lit with more smiles than I’d seen in years.
I didn’t want to spoil things by fucking her nanny.
I finished my smoke, secured the house and went up to my room. This was fast becoming my second favorite part of the day, after the short period I spent with Emma. Fucking crazy, but I looked forward to it from the moment I got out of bed in the mornings.
I’d resolved not to fuck Mary Poppins, but I could play the cello for her.
Nights were the only time there were no bodyguards hanging around; everyone, including Mrs. Konin, went to their quarters. I put the house on lock-down, setting the alarms before going up to bed. The cello was a side of me I kept hidden from the outside world.
Necessarily.
To play well meant I had to let down my defenses, connect with my emotions. Usually, I turned on the AC and left the windows closed. However, since Zoe’s arrival I’d left the windows open. If anyone were to ask me why, I wouldn’t have been able to answer. I didn’t even know why I’d gone on playing when she’d started duetting with me.
No matter.
It was unimportant.
I would put an end to it soon enough.
I reached for my Stradivarius, carried it over to the chair by the window. Then I sat and placed it between my legs before caressing the smooth curves of the maple wood and picking up my bow.
After the intro, Zoe began to sing… the song a lament for happier days of youth.
I dreamed a dream…
The instrument swayed in my arms as if I was rocking her in a sensuous dance; I always thought of my cello as a ‘she’. I listened to the words Zoe was singing as I played, of how life could kill a person’s dreams.
A feeling of heaviness settled in my chest. Unbidden memories hovered at the back of my mind and I couldn’t turn them off.
No regrets, I told myself. A vow I’d made when I took on the role of Bratva Boss. The bitter taste of remorse still filled my mouth, however.
Nina.
So beautiful.
So… breakable.
No. Don’t think of her! Focus on the task at hand!
I listened to Zoe. She sang deep in her throat, sensuously, her voice reaching out to me, unaccountably warming the coldness in my heart.
Pathetic.
I was pathetic.
Letting a slip of a girl affect me like that.
I needed her in my life like I needed a bullet in the brain. More to the point, I wouldn’t allow another woman to suffer like Nina had done.
Nina. We’d been betrothed when she turned sixteen, married two years later. An arrangement between our families, but we didn’t complain. We knew where our duty lay. At first, we’d been happy... I suspect because we still lived in Moscow. Nina was close to her mama, and I wasn’t a boss then.
Everything changed when we moved to Fairwood. She grew distant, withdrawn. The signs she was using were there, but initially I’d ignored them. Her loss of appetite, insomnia, paranoia and mood swings. Then I discovered her stash of the white powder and all hell broke loose.
I shook my head.
I dreamed a dream…
I’d killed Nina’s dreams; I was the tiger that came in the night. She’d started off unafraid, but she couldn’t weather the storm of living with me and knowing my truth, knowing about the things I’d done and would carry on doing.
I’d broken her, ruined her, turned her into an empty shell. The crutch of cocaine was everything to her. It meant more than Emma, more than me. It became her be all and end all until I’d had to intervene.
Nina was in a better place now, thank God, but we’d never see her again. And that motherfucker who supplied her was sleeping with the fishes.
My breath hitched.
I dreamed a dream.
Zoe’s voice resounded. I settled into playing, letting the music absorb me. My muscles relaxed and the conflict in my mind eased.
I finished the piece, put down the bow and lifted my cello onto her stand. The night was hot; I was a fool for not shutting the window and turning on the AC. I rectified the situation, pulling down the blinds and switching the dial to sixty-eight degrees.
After I’d taken a shower, I stretched out on my bed and let the air cool down my naked body. Closing my eyes, I rubbed my cock. My body was tense, in need of release, and I put that down to Zoe.
Crazy the effect she had on me. I wouldn’t fuck her, but I’d think about fucking her. How it would feel to have her bow-shaped lips wrapped around my thick shaft. How she would gaze up at me, her stunning blue eyes shining while I fucked her mouth.
I wondered what her pussy would taste and smell like.
Delicious, I bet.
I squeezed my dick and worked its length, imagining how she’d moan and call out my name. How her hands would grip my ass as she climaxed. With a grunt and a jerk of the hips, my balls drew up tight into my body, and spurts of hot cum spilled out over my fingers. Fuck, yeah.
Grunting, I reached for the tissue box on my nightstand and cleaned myself off. Time to get some shut-eye. Tomorrow would be a busy day: a conference call about a shipment of assault rifles followed by an inspection of my clubs, lunch with my lawyer and an afternoon with my bankers. Just another day in the life of a crime boss.
For a moment, a fleeting moment, I wondered about my destiny if my father and then older brother hadn’t died. Ruslan would have inherited this life, not me. He’d been the apple of Papa’s eye, the heir to the poisoned chalice… the one I’d ended up accepting gladly, eager for the opportunities to seize power and riches.
I pulled the sheet up over my chilled body and closed my eyes, willing sleep to take me.
Not a chance in hell.
I stayed awake until the early hours, mulling over Mary Poppin’s request. She was right about Emma needing to live a more normal life, but how? Could I risk it? The danger was fucking real, my enemies waiting to pounce.
Chapter Six
Zoe
“Did you ask Papa last night?” Emma inquired as we made our way to the library the next morning.
I touched my hand to hers. “He said he’d think about it.”
“Wow,” a smile spread over her face. “Thanks.”
I pulled her into a hug. “No guarantees, poppet.”
Her shoulders drooped. “Sometimes, I think he hates me…” Her pretty face crumpled. “It’s, like, he thinks something’s wrong with me…”
My heart sank… this was exactly what I’d feared. Taras’ coldness was affecting his daughter. “He’s just busy,” I tried to reassure her.
“Too busy for me,” she choked on a sob.
“I’m sure that’s not the case,” I said, and I meant it. There was something else behind Taras’ reticence. A sudden idea came to me. “Why don’t we invite him to watch you dance on Saturday?”
She looked up at me, her eyes shining. “You mean, I could put on a show for him?”
“Yeah. Let’s talk to Mrs. Gorelov this afternoon.” I grabbed Emma’s hand. “Come on, your tutor will be wondering where you are…”
I left Emma with Mr. Salko and went to tidy her room. Folding her clothes, I couldn’t stop thinking
about Taras. Last night, after he’d played his cello and I’d sung with him, I’d tossed and turned in my bed. In the end, I’d gotten up and switched on the AC, thinking my insomnia was due to the heatwave. I dropped off to sleep eventually, the song I dreamed a dream on a loop in my head. When my alarm sounded this morning, I’d groaned I was so not ready to wake up.
I rubbed the tiredness from my eyes, then went down to the basement to load the washing machine.
A cup of coffee is what I need.
I stepped into the kitchen. Mrs. Konin raised her gaze from the sink, where she was peeling potatoes. She wiped her sweaty brow with the back of a hand. “It’s too hot, even with the AC on.”
I opened the refrigerator door. “I’ll make us both an iced coffee.”
“That would be nice, lapochka,” she put down the potato peeler. “Although I’ll have iced tea instead.”
I made our drinks quickly. We sat opposite each other, sipping our beverages and nibbling sliced watermelon. “I asked Mr. Melekhov if Emma could hang out with Sasha at her place,” I blurted out. “And he said he’d think about it.”
Mrs. Konin gasped. “Oh, my goodness.” She put down her tea and gave me a funny look. “How did you manage that?”
“I’m highly qualified,” I reminded her. “I told him Emma will suffer if she’s deprived of a normal childhood.”
“Well, I doubt he’ll agree,” she said firmly, her brows pulling in. “He’s extremely cautious.”
“I kind of issued him with a challenge,” I smirked.
Mrs. Konin’s jaw dropped. “You challenged Taras Melekhov?”
“Only over his security,” I shook my head. “I’ll go see him after dinner. Find out his answer.”
“Good luck, lapochka,” Mrs Konin patted my wrist. “You’re going to need it.”
I laughed off her doubts with more certainty than I felt, and then checked the time. “I’d better join Emma, find out what homework she’s been set.”
