“She’s really opening up more,” Mikhail commented one time when we were at his building, the one right next to mine. He had several more floors dedicated to his residence, to make it like a mansion rather than a skyscraper. When I first brought Natalie and Maisie here for dinner, they were both stunned and in awe.
I glanced at him, then at the rest of them in the lounge. “Natalie?” I guessed. He had to be talking about her. Since that initial introduction I brokered between my uncle and Natalie, she had relaxed more. Telling her she could be employed again calmed her down and likely dissuaded her from feeling like a charity case. Letting her take over the household chores like cooking, cleaning, and laundry seemed to give her a purpose too. Natalie no longer acted like the skittish, confused, and worried houseguest.
“Well, her too.” He gestured at his daughter. “I meant Anya.”
I looked again and almost smiled. The teen really had changed since meeting Maisie. She smiled more. She sought ways to entertain Natalie’s daughter. “Maybe that shouldn’t be so surprising,” I replied. “She was an only child all her life, estranged.”
Mikhail nodded. “If she’s been lonely and hoping for a family, or siblings, then this is turning out well.”
I snorted a laugh. “Sure. Since Claire’s already halfway through her pregnancy, right?”
He smiled, looking not like the stern, diplomatic, and ruthless uncle who was also my boss, but a family man. “It’s just been us for so long. It seems like so much is changing so quickly.”
He was right. It was just us, the guys. Now, he was engaged and expecting a child while adapting to his estranged teenaged daughter living here. I had a “friend” as a semi-permanent houseguest with her daughter.
But how was I supposed to bridge the gap between what Natalie and I currently had and what we might be able to have?
She was a “friend” per my explanation of how I cared to save her and bring her here.
I was her “boyfriend” when she needed a stand-in to deflect men harassing her at that bar.
Now… I had no clue how to move forward. She was already worried about being bought. She still clung to the claim that I forced her to come home with me even though it was for her own good.
I sighed, watching the women talk about the upcoming wedding while Anya and Maisie played and colored. There was no doubt that these two were becoming more used to us. I was slowly integrating them into the Orlov Family.
The other day, I overheard her asking Claire and Anya more about what we all did for work, and she more or less understoodthat we were members of a Mafia organization. It still didn’t make her run screaming and scared.
Another time, when Roman asked her if she’d like to join him and everyone else at the indoor pool in his building for an impromptu birthday party, I heard her admitting to my brother that she was an outsider, a guest, and not belonging as a part of celebrating special occasions meant for the family.
How do I make her feel like she can belong?
When can I ask her more about her past? She’ll clam up.
Why is she so determined to keep a line between us?
Almost a month had passed and this unspoken distance between us, a distinction between her as an outsider, stayed constant. Knowing how skittish she was and how inexperienced and lost she might feel, discouraged me from simply taking her like I wanted to. How others might have, without any bother about how she’d react.
The next day, in my office, George entered and closed the door behind him.
I looked up and raised my brows in a silent question. “Were there any incidents?” I asked.
In another attempt of letting Natalie feel like she belonged, I had her accompany Anya and Claire to the bridal gown store. Maisie was over-the-moon excited about it. It seemed the idea of adults playing “dress up” was more entertaining than her pretending she was a princess herself.
Before George could reply, my cousin entered the office.
“Andre. Long time, no see,” I quipped. I saw him every day, but lately, with his looking into the Giovanni family trying to meddle with our drug distribution, he’d been busier than usual.
He dipped his chin as a hello, seeming to be in a hurry right now. “Did you tell him?”
I closed my laptop and stood. “Tell me what?” Assuming the worst, I cringed and rubbed the back of my neck. “Fuck. Don’t tell me someone else had to keep someone away.” Natalie and Maisie didn’t leave often. They preferred the hominess of being here as fall approached winter. But the one time they did go out, some asshole got too close and the guards had to resort to fighting them back.
I had been so careful not to expose Maisie—or Natalie—to any direct violence. They’d gotten more than they ever should have that one night. Maisie had already been uprooted, and while she seemed happy at my penthouse with her mother never having to work, I dreaded letting her think it could be dangerous here, too.
“Not quite.” Andre cleared his throat. “I was checking in with some of my crew, and it sounds like the Popovs are catching up.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Catching up to what?”
“The Cartel’s been their focus the last few weeks. They’ve been trespassing on their territory,” he said.
