Anya’s cheeks turn a warm shade of pink and she smiles at him. “I was a bit insistent in that, I remember.”
“A bit?” He chuckles. “You were the most determined little girl,dochen’ka.You used to march around these halls in yourballet slippers with more personality than either of your poor brothers. We were helpless. Not a single one of us could tell youno.”
“You were running a tight ship, huh?” I muse, grinning as she flushes deeper. “No wonder Nadya is such a shark, it’s hereditary.”
“Nadya was a sweet, shy girl,” Anya disagrees. “This side of her is new, to me at least.”
“She’s a late bloomer, then,” I decide.
Anton grunts, nodding sharply. “That or she’s always been like this but lulled us into a false sense of security to fool every one of us.”
“She’s clever enough for it,” Anya says softly.
Mikhail and Anton make noises of agreement, and once again, the table becomes quiet. All our plates are empty, and more notably, the bottle of vodka is too. I guess that between three grown men, a medium-sized bottle of straight liquor isn’t that inebriating because none of them seem to be even the least bit drunk.
“Do you want to see the rest of the house?” Anya asks suddenly, like she’s been working up the nerve to blurt the question out at me. “While we wait for them to come back?”
“A tour?” I ask, ready to jump up and follow her eagerly. “Sounds fun.”
“Downstairs only,” Anton says almost harshly. It’s like he wants to bark the command but can’t bring himself to be too loud or forceful with his precious daughter. “I don’t want him anywhere near your room.”
“Okay,” Anya agrees without pause. She scrunches her nose though, seemingly confused by the abrupt order.
“It’s not like I need a bedroom tour, anyway. I’ve already seen it,” I quip, trying to lighten the mood.
“What?” Mikhail demands, his voice going deep and hard.
“On video chat,” Anya quickly clarifies, looking scandalized by what her uncle could be imagining. “He’s seen it in the background on the phone, Uncle. He’s never been to the house before today.”
Well, that’s not entirely true. But Anya has no idea about my exploits with Nico years ago, and now would not be the time to reveal them. I don’t know if there should ever be a time, honestly. I haven’t even considered how Anton may feel that I once delivered the head, hands, and cocks of the men Nico and I tracked down and tortured to his front door.
I assume he’d be grateful, but he may also be pissed off that we never revealed ourselves. The only evidence he received for the suffering of the men we broke were the encrypted video files we gave him, documenting hours of unending agony delivered by masked men.
Snapping out of the thought, I stand up and have to remind myself not to offer Anya my hand to help her out of her seat. Gentlemanly manners look a hell of a lot different when any form of physical touch is off the table.
Anya holds her hands in front of her stomach, standing from the table and giving her father a parting look before leading me out of the room.
“I’m sorry about them,” she tells me under her breath once we’re far enough away.
“Don’t be,” I insist. “They weren’t so bad, honestly. Nadya kept everyone too busy for them to really grill me, I think.”
Guiding me further away from the dining room, she almost winces. “I can’t believe you paid her. You didn’t have to do that. She doesn’t even need money.”
“Neither do I,” I reply with a shrug. “I don’t mind, it was kind of endearing to see her so comfortable around you all. And me. I was glad she wasn’t scared of me or something. I imagine Levwould try to poison my dinner if she hated me as much as he does.”
Anya sighs, shaking her head. “You’re so okay with him disliking you. I don’t like how he speaks to you.”
“Ahh, that’s because you don’t understand him like I do,” I say, waving a dismissive hand. “I can admit that I probably won’t be much better when Isobella is older. If she brings home a handsome cocky fucker claiming to be her friend, I’ll likely be losing my mind too.”
Anya breathes out a laugh at that, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t be so obvious about your feelings, I bet. You’d be scared of upsetting her.”
“Too right.”
She smiles, hearing my agreement.
“So, this is the family room...”
The rest of the tour goes on much the same way. Anya showing me a new room while we chat on the walk to it. And eventually, it comes to an end near her former ballet studio, in a small sitting room that has a piano. A piano that, according to Anya, has never been played.
