“Am I?” I ask incredulously. “I think I just hallucinated you asking your father if we can have a sleepover.”
“You didn’t hallucinate anything,” Anton mutters darkly.
Fuck, I might have spoken too soon about not being punched in the dick.
“I swear to God, I didn’t know she was going to ask you that,” I vow, crossing my heart. “This was not my idea.”
“Yes, I gathered that when you nearly asphyxiated yourself.” And yet, he’s still glaring at me.
I take a big gulp of water, trying to clear the last of the soreness in the back of my mouth, relishing the way the cool liquid soothes the burn.
Anya takes my hand and gives her father a pleading look. “You know that we love each other,Papochka.Ithink we should be allowed to share a bed.”
“Oh my,shit,” I curse under my breath, starting to seriously worry for my health if she’s going to keep talking. “At least you let me swallow first that time. Fuck,meraviglia. Are you trying to get me castrated?”
“We’re adults,” Anya defends, lifting her chin.
“Where is this coming from?” I ask, surprised at her firmness as she presents our case to her father. “I mean, I’m not complaining. You know I’ll take every minute of time with you that I can get. But you didn’t mention this before now.”
“I talked to Tiffany about it this morning,” she admits, her confidence unwavering. If she spoke to her therapist about what she wants and it inspired this much confidence in her, I have to trust that she knows what she’s doing.
“I wanted to surprise you by asking,” Anya adds softly. “I’ve been thinking about this for days, and I couldn’t wait to bring it up any longer. I want to fall asleep while we’re cuddling and watching a movie on the couch without you having to maneuver me so that you can leave. I want to hang out with you in my bedroom and not have to kick you out when it gets late. I don’t want to have to wait for you to come over in the morning, I just want you to be here.”
I’m about to tell her that of course I want that too, but her father quickly reminds me that he’s sharing the table with us.
Clearing his throat, Anton gets Anya’s attention and she smiles at him. “Are you asking me to allow Matteo to move into the house, for permission for him to sleep over tonight, or for my approval of your bedroom activities?”
Anya blushes but she doesn’t back down, looking at her father with her shoulders straight and her chin held high. “I want him to sleep over tonight, and we’ll see how it goes. As forbedroom activities, I want you to not think of them at all. Matteo is moving at my pace, and if I want that pace to speed up, it will.”
Anton can’t hide his supreme discomfort at his daughter’s words, but he can’t argue them either. She’s a grown woman, and he can’t stop her from doing anything with her own body. Not when he’s spent so long making sure that she’s the only person who gets to make decisions for it ever again.
“Matteo can stay the night for tonight. We’ll discuss this again in the morning and see where we go from here.”
“Eeee,” Anya jumps up excitedly, rounding the table to hug him tight. “Thank you, Papa.” She smacks a kiss to his cheek and he sighs.
“Give us a minute,” he tells her, nodding to me. “And next time you see her, tell Dr. Tiffany that she’s on my bad side now.”
She giggles at him and rolls her eyes. “I’m sure she’ll be shaking in her boots,Papochka.”
“Uh-huh.”
Coming back to my side, Anya kisses the top of my head before skipping out of the room. She didn’t even warn her father not to hurt me, which means she’s much more confident that he won’t than I am.
Anton spends a good thirty seconds glaring at me before he finally speaks. “If I hear my daughter making any kind of noise in the middle of the night, I’m going to put you through the worst kind of hell in your next mandatory training. You’ll be throwing up blood, Matteo.Blood.”
All Morozov soldiers have periodic training. Not all at once in the same location, but in groups. And since he branded me with his family-specific ink, I’ll be training with him, his brothers, and their top men from now on. I don’t doubt for even a second that they could make me throw up blood.
“I—”
He holds a hand up, silencing me. “I don’t want to fucking know what you do. But you’ll be safe, and you’ll turn on the TV or the goddamn shower for all I care. I love my daughter enough not to murder you, but don’t fucking push me, Moretti.”
“I—” I try again.
“Say ‘yes, Sir’ and then get the fuck out of my face before I lose my lunch.”
Oh, thank God.He’s giving me an out.
“Yes, Sir.”
