“They told me they wanted revenge. For my father taking my mother.” She continued to ramble as she dressed, and I nodded, staying close, so she could assume I was listening. I got the impression she was talking just to avoid the quiet. To fill the silence. I didn’t want to know the details. Prying at her story wasn’t something I wanted to do. But I listened. I gave her the peace of knowing someone cared to listen as she shared.
Once she was back in bed, I called out for the maid to enter with food and water as she’d given me a heads up that she would.
Anya lay back and closed her eyes, holding my hand as the tray was brought in.
“Can you sip some water?” I asked her.
She sat up to drink, and I catalogued more of a treatment plan. To combat any effects of dehydration and hunger, I’d make sure she had food and water available. But right now, as she reclined and sighed again, clutching my hand like it was a lifeline, I realized she just needed to sleep. She’d been up all night, scared, and the sleep deprivation, on top of the injuries and terror, was taking a toll.
Once she was out, breathing steadily, I reached for the stethoscope and checked her heart and lungs again.
Soft knocks sounded on the door, and I turned my head to call out as quietly as I could, “Yes?”
Mikhail poked his head in. Worry lined his face, but as he entered the room and saw her sleeping peacefully, holding my hand, he sighed and let his shoulders fall.
“She’s resting now,” I said unnecessarily.
He nodded. “Can you step outside to talk? Or do you think it would be best for you to wait in here in case she wakes up and is looking for someone?”
It tugged at my heart, how he would look at me, a stranger, as a source of comfort for his daughter, so easily removing himself from the list of people she could count on.
So many layers of complications and drama waited to be addressed between them, but I understood that he was only asking for a diagnosis from her doctor. Me.
“Perhaps a maid can wait in here in case she stirs?”
He nodded, snapping his fingers to prompt one of them to rush in.
I left the room with him, wishing against all my better judgment that this father and daughter could heal together. Not with this distance spanning between them.
19
MIKHAIL
Claire glanced back at the closed door to the guest room, hesitant to leave. Seeing her so committed to helping my daughter relaxed me. Anya was in good hands with Claire. I knew that. But it was rare for me to trust anyone this much. Least of all, trusting a woman. Someone still so new to me.
“Why are you wet?” Her long brown hair wasn’t silky and soft. It was damp, clinging to her shoulders. While her jeans were dry, the T-shirt was sticking to her like a second skin.
“Anya needed my assistance.” She resumed walking with me down the hall and cleared her throat. “She almost fell in the shower and I got in to help her.”
I raised my brows, impressed and touched that she’d sacrifice her own comfort to do such a thing.
“Would you like to change before we talk?”
She nodded, glancing up at me. “Yeah. Where should I meet you?”
I told her to find me in my study. Andre was there, waiting for me, and I strode there now. I didn’t get far before my phone rang. Sergei was updating me with news about the Popovs’ capture of Anya. Niko was already ranting and pissed that I’d killed so many of his men. If he wanted to spare their lives, he should’ve thought twice about fucking with my family. As soon as I got off the phone with him, the device rang again.
“For fuck’s sake.” As if this day hadn’t been hard enough already.
I answered Roman this time.
“Giovanni’s got assholes pressuring our dealers again.”
I growled, shaking my head as I listened to the report of more trouble from our other biggest enemy. His call was more in-depth, and I couldn’t end it without hearing him out, collecting the biggest picture of the threat, and sending the right amount of force in response.
I got to my study, finding Claire already there with Andre.
“Hold on,” I told my nephew on the phone.
