"Tomorrow afternoon works for me. There's a café near the Bolshoi, quiet enough that we can talk without drawing attention." He gives me the name and address, which I commit to memory rather than writing down. "Two o'clock."
"I'll be there." I end the call and toss my phone onto the bed, then finish unpacking my bag and storing my guns in the small dresser.
When I finish, I make my way down the short hallway to Sasha's room and push the door open quietly. Noemi sits on the edge of his bed with a book open in her lap, reading aloud. Sasha's tucked under the covers with his head resting on the pillow. His eyes droop with exhaustion but he's fighting to stay awake long enough to hear the end of whatever story she's reading.
I lean against the doorframe and listen, watching the way she modulates her tone to match different characters' voices and pauses at dramatic moments to build anticipation. She's naturalat this, and Sasha hangs on every word. I almost feel bad forcing her to be here because it's clear this is her calling—to teach and care for small children.
But I can't raise a young boy alone, and Noemi has the grit required to thrive in the atmosphere of my life. She's already proven that more than once. After this morning's activities in my study, I think she'll prove useful in more ways than just caring for the boy. She'll just need time and a strong hand to adjust to the changes.
"And they all lived happily ever after," she finishes, closing the book and setting it on the bedside table. "The end."
"That was really good." Sasha's voice is thick with sleep, and his words slur together slightly. "Will you read me another one tomorrow night?"
"Of course I will." She leans down and kisses his forehead, smoothing his dark hair back from his face with gentle fingers. "But right now, you need to sleep."
I begin backing away, but I'm still listening as Sasha says, "Do you think my papa will show me the city tomorrow?"
The words wrap around my heart and make me stop mid-stride. They can't see that I'm here listening, which only makes this moment more pure. My son just called me papa for the first time in his life, and I think I like the feeling it's giving me.
"We can ask him,solnyshko. Sleep now…"
Noemi's voice is soft and patient with him, but I hear the tone of discouragement she uses. Not that she's discouraging him, but that she, herself, feels discouraged. Probably by my inability to do things the way she thinks they should be done.
I would like to think I am a good father, that Sasha is in good hands with me, but I obviously do not have her approval yet. I might fight for months to gain any traction in that area, but I won't stop trying. Her presence here started out as a way to make Sasha more comfortable around me, but I'm finding I have a need too. I need her to make me a better man so I'm worthy of this gift that's been dropped in my lap.
I rush ahead, clearing the hallway and walking back into the master bedroom before I hear the door of Sasha's room click shut quietly.
Moments later, Noemi walks into the room with her chin held high and her shoulders squared. "I need to get my things." She walks toward me pretending she gets to do what she wants after I've already made my wishes clear. "I'll sleep on the couch out here."
"No, you won't." I move to block her path to her bag. "You'll sleep in the bed where you'll actually get proper rest."
"I'm not sleeping in your bed, Fyodor." We do a side-step dance, back and forth until she gets the point that I'm purposefully blocking her path. "That's completely inappropriate, and you know it."
"I bent you over my desk and fucked you raw and you think sleeping in my bed is inappropriate?" My words make her eyes widen, and she sucks in a breath but doesn't snap back at me.
"That was… I just…" She's flustered and can't decide what she wants to say to me, which I find comical. "Get out of my way. I want to sleep on the couch."
When she moves to walk past me again, I let her go this time. But my arm hooks around her waist as she does, and I hoist her off the ground in one swift movement.
"What are you doing!" she hisses quietly like she doesn't want Sasha to hear her. "Put me down!"
Ignoring her protest, I carry her to the bed and drop her on it. She bounces twice before I reach up and switch off the lamp on my side of the bed. Before I get on to the mattress beside her, she's already scurrying to the far side to get away, which only makes my job easier.
I grab her around the waist again, hauling her back toward my chest until she stops fighting. "I said, you'll sleep in my bed with me."
"What am I, your captive now? You're going to turn me into a sex slave?"
I don’t even waste the energy it takes to respond to those nasty accusations. I reach past her and flick off her bedside light, then relax down next to her with my arm tightly pinning her to my body.
Forcing her to be here wasn't what I hoped for, but I'm not a foolish man, no matter how much she likes to correct me. If I let her sleep in that private room, I'll awaken to my son being snatched and the woman I brought here to help me gone.
"Good night, Ms. Dragunova," I tell her, pressing my eyes shut against her angry breathing.
She harrumphs and sighs several times. Her body feels stiff and rigid in my arms, but I'm not giving in. This woman belongs tome now whether she likes it or not, even if she refuses to let me pay her.
"You know, if I’m being forced to sleep in your fucking bed, you could at least let me put on my nightgown."
"Good night," I repeat, and I tighten my hold on her for added measure. I will have enough problems as it is trying to hunt down Marat like a needle in a haystack here in Moscow. I'm not letting her get her way. She will do things my way because I don't have time to fuss with her attitude.
