Especially now, when the last thing I want or need is distance between us. There’s a war brewing. Lebedev didn’t steal from me by accident. He’s testing me, trying to see if I’ve softened, if I’ve gotten distracted. My home should be the one place I don’t have to think strategically, but that luxury disappeared the second Molly started shrinking away from me without saying a word.
I want to go to her. I want to take her face in my hands and tell her she doesn’t have to be scared of my life. I want to tell her I’m still the same man who held her while she cried, who kissed her slowly, who woke up next to her feeling like everything in my life finally made sense.
But I also don’t want to push her, so I stay quiet and give her space I don’t want to give. It takes everything in me not to beg her to stay.
The next morning, I’m pacing the office, waiting for Davýd to show up. We’re supposed to go over the routes for the next shipment and figure out how Lebedev rerouted the last one under my men’s noses. My patience is already paper-thin when my phone buzzes.
Nanny called out sick. I’m stuck at home with Anya. What do you want me to do?
I stare at the message for a second, irritation and concern crawling up my spine. He needs to be here. Tonight’s meeting matters. But his daughter comes first, as she should.
I rub a hand across my jaw. I can hear Molly moving around in the kitchen, her quiet footsteps, a cabinet opening, the faint scrape of something on the counter. She’s been restless all day, pacing around the apartment more than she ever has. She hasn’t even asked me to go out in days.
An idea forms in my head, and I realize it could help both of them. I’m not sure whether she’ll agree to it, but I can’t see how she’d refuse. I know how desperately she misses teaching.
I walk out of the office and find her sitting on the couch, eating a bowl of cereal, the tiny knitted baby hat resting carefully on her lap. She hasn’t let it out of her sight since our talk about the Bratva a few days ago. It’s become a talisman to her. Her hand rests near it, fingers twitching like she wants to pick it up but doesn’t want to let herself soften.
“Molly,” I say from the doorway.
She looks up quickly. Her eyes flick over me once and then settle on something near my shoulder instead of meeting my gaze directly. That twist in my chest tightens again.
“Yes?”
“I need a favor,” I tell her. “Davýd’s nanny called out sick today, and I really need him to come to a meeting tonight.”
She straightens immediately at my words. She seems all at once curious, afraid, and hopeful. I don’t really understand her reaction, but I remind myself not to push.
“How can I help?” she asks, confused.
“Davýd needs someone to take care of his daughter. I was thinking maybe you could watch her.”
Her face softens in a way I haven’t seen in days. “How old is she?”
“Four.”
There’s no hesitation in her answer.
“I’d be happy to watch her.”
Relief washes through me, and I nod.
“I’ll tell Davýd to bring her over. They’ll be here soon. Thank you.”
She gives me a small smile. Not the kind of warm, unguarded smile she gave me before she learned about who I really am. This one is more careful. Still, a smile is a smile, and I’ll take what I can get.
“I’m happy to help,” she murmurs, and I know she means it.
I watch her get up and start collecting things from around the house. She even asks if she can use my credit card to order a few toys for Anya. Of course, I’m happy to oblige. I’m thrilled to see her look alive again.
It’s the first time in days I feel my spine loosen even a fraction.
Half an hour later, Davýd walks in holding his daughter’s hand. Little Anya looks even smaller today, like she’s folded in on herself. She keeps her face tucked behind her father’s leg, and, per usual, doesn’t say anything.
I realize I probably should have prepared Molly for this. Anya hasn’t spoken since she saw her mother brutally murdered. Still, I’m confident that Molly will find a way to communicate with Anya. Her love for children is so evident.
When she sees the girl, she kneels down to eye level with her right away, which seems to soften the little one a fraction.
“Hi,” she says gently. “I’m Molly.”
