What changed?
“Why are you here?” Repeating my question was better than dwelling on his mood or the past. I couldn't lose myself in him again, to be the weak woman who only followed her heart, while he stomped all over it without a care in the world.
“God, you are beautiful,” he muttered. Coming at me full force, he wrapped his arm around my waist before I could even blink.
“Let me go—”
He covered my mouth with his, pushing his tongue deep and exploring my mouth in a probing kiss where the outside world ceased to exist. His other hand slid into my hair, gripping it tightly as he smashed our chests together, and for a moment, I closed my eyes, enjoying the kiss, powerless against the tornado of emotions he inspired in me. Sucking on my lower lip and biting it lightly, he whispered, “Mine.”
The word was like cold water fired from a hose on me during winter, destroying the haze of desire he had managed to create in just seconds. I pushed him away. Since he didn't expect that, his arms loosened around me, and I took a few steps back while he looked at me, confused.
Unbelievable!
“Yours?” I asked, but before he could reply, I asked again, “Yours? All of a sudden, I’m yours again?” His hands fisted as he rolled his lips, still damp from our kiss.
“You were always mine, Vivian.” A hollow laugh burst from inside me, echoing in my gallery.
“Was I yours when you showed up on my doorstep five months ago and fucked me like a whore? Was I yours when you never contacted me after that? What changed, Radmir? Now I’m worthy of you?”
His gray eyes darkened, and something akin to hurt flashed there, but he quickly masked it with indifference so I couldn't read his emotions. He had the nerve, showing up here as if nothing happened and acting all offended. “I didn't know,” he finally said, holding my accusing stare. “The whole truth… I had no idea.”
“You had no idea? I sent you letters. Photos. I… I explained everything many times. I begged you to let me visit you in prison, and you always refused. And you think you have the right to stand there and claim that you didn’t know?” I suspected he’d be furious with me for getting married, but I never thought he’d bring me more pain, instead of making it all better. He was no longer the man I fell in love with, and it just dawned on me.
“What?” He frowned, a deep line appearing between his eyebrows. “You never once asked for it. I never got anything from you.”
It was my turn to be confused. I folded my arms, studying him, and he didn't hide anything from me. He legitimately had no clue what I was talking about! How could it be possible? I used to make trips to his prison each month, hoping this time he would see me, but every time, that awful guard Benjamin stated with satisfaction that Radmir refused to see me. I made one last trip after Jake was born, wanting to show him the beauty our love had created, but even then, he said no. I gave up after that, convincing myself he’d forgive me someday for getting married.
Why would the guards keep me away from him? It just made no sense.
My head started to ache from all those thoughts, and I rubbed my forehead hoping to soothe it.
Then another thought dawned on me.
If he never got the news about my marriage to Alex, never read any of the letters I had written to him… then he had thought I married Alex of my own free will and had his child!
He thought I betrayed him in the worst possible way. For a man like him, who lived and breathed the Bratva code… loyalty was one of the things he valued most in people.
My eyes widened as a gasp escaped me, and I covered it with my fingers, too shocked at this realization to say anything.
“You thought I moved on?” He nodded, agony evident in his expression. “How could you think that? I still wear your cross.” His eyes heated as he dashed toward me, but a little voice stopped him dead in his tracks and we both turned our heads to Jake.
“Mommy.” He sounded unsure as he walked slowly from the back of the studio where he had a small room with all his toys and TV, so he could either relax or read while I worked in the gallery.
Jake chose today to wear jeans and an oversized jersey with the number 17 on the front and back, custom made by a local designer. It was the number of the legendary Russian hockey player Valeri Kharlamov, and Jake could watch his old games for hours. Since the number 17 in the Russian Hockey League forever belonged to Kharlamov, no one could have it anymore, so I couldn't order suitable shirts for him. He cried for days, so I ended up just asking the designer to recreate it.
He tugged on it now, as his attention shifted to Radmir, and he said in awe, “Daddy?” Identical gray eyes studied each other, both too stunned with the meeting. Something sparked between them, and I felt almost like an intruder in this moment, but nevertheless, I couldn't look away.
The son and the father saw each other for the very first time, and I was afraid my heart would break from all the emotions bubbling within it.
Radmir
Whenever I thought about the possibility of having kids before Vivian, I laughed it off, because my lifestyle made it almost impossible. I wasn't sure I wanted my child to experience what I had gone through.
After Vi, I dreamed of having a little family, calming myself with the thoughts of controlling the process from the pregnancy test to delivery. This way, my family would stay safe.
Never, though, had I expected to meet my son for the first time when he was five years old as he gazed at me curiously and immediately called me daddy.
My eyes drank in his small figure, not missing any details, mole, or scratch. His eyes were identical to mine, as well as his dark hair and fierce stance. But I could see Vivian too in his bright smile, pointed nose, and high cheekbones. It seemed like he took after both of us.
