She looked up with those blue eyes, hesitated, then nodded. I reached over and steadied the base. She set the red block on top and clapped. "We did it!"
"Good job," my voice came out softer than usual.
Honestly, I had never pictured myself sitting on the floor, playing with a five-year-old. In the Bratva, my time was usually spent on negotiations, interrogations, cleaning up traitors. But watching Stella concentrate, it didn't feel bad.
"Igor," she asked suddenly, "why are you always frowning?"
I blinked. "Am I?"
"Yes." She said it with certainty. "Like this." She puckered her tiny brow into a ridiculous little scowl, copying me.
I couldn't help laughing. "That's because I'm thinking."
"About what?"
"About… how to make the tower higher."
"That's easy." She said seriously. "You put the big ones on the bottom and the little ones on top so it won't fall."
"You're clever."
"Mom says so too!" She puffed up with pride and handed me a green block. "You put this one."
I took it and carefully placed it where she indicated. We built, block by block—she directed, I did the steadying.
"Igor," she breathed, excitement in her voice, "we're almost done!"
I looked at our nearly finished, colorful castle and, without thinking, leaned in a little to close the space between us. "Nice work. We're almost there."
"When the blocks are all done, we'll be friends. Right?" she tilted her head.
Friends. A five-year-old saying that made my throat tighten.
"We could be friends," I said honestly, meeting her eyes.
"Then, Igor," she smiled, eyes bright, "can you get the yellow block for me? I need it."
I handed it over and watched her place it with solemn care. A strange feeling rose in me—protectiveness, responsibility. I couldn't name it; only that if anyone ever hurt this child, I would make them wish they had never lived. Even if she wasn't mine.
Fuck Marco.
"Igor, look!" Stella pointed at the tower. "We built a castle!"
I examined the riot of colors and nodded. "It's beautiful."
"I'll show Mom when she comes out!"
At that moment, the bathroom door opened. Elena stepped out, hair damp and loose over her shoulders, wearing that champagne-colored nightgown. She looked surprised to see us on the carpet.
"Mom! Mom!" Stella jumped up and grabbed Elena's hand. "Look at the castle my friend and I built!"
"Friend?" Elena glanced at me, a flicker of surprise in her eyes.
"We're already friends," I explained.
Elena crouched and looked at the block tower, smiling. "Amazing, baby. But it's bath time, then bed—tomorrow you have preschool."
"But I'm not sleepy," Stella pouted.
