Joker follows my gaze, chuckling. “You sure you want to fight Dmitry?” His eyes glint with amusement, that annoying smirk never leaving his face. “I mean, look at him—doesn’t seem like the worst babysitter, does he?”
I want to punch that smirk right off his face.
“Let him go,” I snap, trying to sound threatening, but it’s hard when Elijah looks like he’s about to nap against this massive thug. My fists are still clenched, but deep down, I know it’s pointless.
What am I gonna do? Take on two of them?
Jokerleans against the wall, his hands sliding into his pockets, looking far too comfortable for my liking.
“Listen, sweetheart. You can keep fighting, but it’s not gonna get you anywhere. You’re here, and you’re gonna stay here—might as well enjoy it.” He shrugs, completely unbothered. “We’re not gonna hurt the kid. In fact, I’d say Dmitry’s got a soft spot for him already.”
I glance back at Dmitry, who’s still standing there, calm as ever, holding Elijah like he’s a kitten. I can’t decide if it’s terrifying or just bizarre.
Joker’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “So, what’s it gonna be? You gonna be smart about this, or are we gonna keep playing this game?” He’s not smirking now, and his tone—no, his look—tells me this is more than a joke.
I swallow, looking at Elijah again. He’s not scared. In fact, he’s looking at me like he’s waiting for me to say yes to the Pikachu offer.
Fucking hell.
I exhale, throwing up an invisible white flag. “Fine,” I mutter, the word tasting bitter. “But I’m not playing nice. And I sure as hell don’t trust any of you.”
Joker’s grin returns in full force. “Oh,Clara Caldwell, I wouldn’t dream of it.”
There’s something off about the way he’s looking at me like he’s piecing together something I’d rather keep hidden. He gives Elijah a quick, knowing glance, and then his gaze snaps back to mine.
He knows.
No.Not everything.My breath hitches, and before I can stop myself, I glance quickly at Elijah.
Dmitry finally puts Elijah down, and to my shock, my son doesn’t run back to me. He stands there for a second, looking up at Dmitry, then back at me, like he’s waiting for the next move.
“Mommy, Pikachu?” Elijah asks, his eyes big and hopeful.
I pinch the bridge of my nose because of course this is happening. “Sure, baby,” I say, trying not to sound like I’m losing my grip on reality. “Let’s go watch Pikachu.”
4
Leonid
Blyat’.This day’s already a waste of my time.
I stalk into the restaurant, my presence announcing itself louder than any pompous décor ever could.Pizda,I don’t give a shit about the expensive chandeliers or the perfect little table settings. My mind is still back home, where Clara Caldwell and her kid, Elijah, are.
I wonder if she’s awake yet. Or still unconscious.Suka.
I should be there.Not here.
I shove my thoughts aside as the manager rushes forward, his sharp suit a clear sign that he knows exactly who I am.
“Mr. Kuznetsov,” he greets, head dipping in a quick bow. His voice is smooth, but the way his eyes flick nervously to my face says everything. “Your table is ready.”
I nod, not bothering with pleasantries, and follow him through the restaurant.
The lunch crowd hums around us—polished business executives in tailored suits, soft clinks of chopsticks on ceramic plates, and the murmur of conversations that stop when I pass by. Eyes dart toward me, some in curiosity, others in quiet recognition. No one dares to hold my gaze for long.
The scent of grilled fish and miso drifts through the air, mixing with the faint floral notes of the restaurant’s decor, a blend of Japanese elegance and modern luxury. Low, soft lighting reflects off lacquered tables and pristine white walls, each design element calculated to impress, to make people feel like they’re part of something exclusive. But all it does is irritate me further.
Aleksei.That’s the reason I’m here.
