I narrow my eyes. “You do that a lot. Say things low so I don’t hear. What is it,zaychik?”
“I said you look like you want to murder someone.” He swallows, jaw twitching. “Do you regret being with me?”
“Nyet.But I want to know the name of the lady who made you look like that so I can rip her head off.”
“Ugh, please not that again,” he mutters.
Judging by his face, that wasn’t the right thing to say. Most people don’t consider homicide comforting. I’m bad at this.
He stands with a wince, takes another bite mid-motion. I think he’s determined to eat and escape at the same time. The sound he makes when he moves is soft but strained, pain leaking out despite his attempts to hide it. He walks away from the bed with a slight limp, then bends slowly to scratch behind Clover’s ears.
I stare at his back, the way the morning light hits the curve of his spine through that thin T-shirt. The hem’s riding up just enough to show the waistband of those navy boxers.
That ass is going to be the death of me. I slip my finger into my mouth, tongue swirling around the syrup while I ogle without shame. My phone rings on the nightstand, and I sigh, already feeling the headache behind my eyes.
I pick it up, and the second I see my father’s name flash, I mutter a curse in Russian and tighten my grip around the phone.
Fuck.
Kelly looks over at me with immediate concern in his eyes. “What is it?”
I press the answer button, bring the phone to my ear, raising a finger to my lips for silence. He nods.
“Father,” I say.
“Your brother finally grew a spine and told me everything.” His voice is calm, too calm, which means he’s furious. “You had your chance. The moment it happened, you could have come forward, but the three of you stayed silent.” He exhales, then continues, “If you think I didn’t know, Alexei, you’re more foolish than I thought.”
He’s been sitting on this information the whole time, waiting for us to confess. I fucking knew it.
“Come home. We’ll have lunch. Your brothers will be here, and we’ll discuss this properly.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Good.”
The line goes dead.
I stare at the phone. “Polnyy yebannyy pizdets.”Complete fucking disaster.
I toss it at the bed hard enough it bounces off and hits the floor with a loud thump. Kelly looks at me with concern written all over his bruised face.
I wave him off before he can start asking questions.
It’s not that I’m scared of my father exactly.
But he can be terrifying when he decides to be, and he’s decided to be plenty of times. He and my mother raised us well, gave us everything. Mother never laid a hand on us even when we were little shits testing every limit. Our father … had different methods.
I love him, love all of them despite their faults. Even Mikhail with his drug problems and constant chaos. People know us as this disciplined old family dynasty running the underworld.
Growing up with four brothers meant the house was never quiet. Someone was always in trouble, always getting punished, always plotting revenge on whoever got them into trouble. My mother spent most of her time playing referee or patching us up. They’re mine, my family, no matter how fucked up we all are.
But my father doesn’t bend on anything. Doesn’t listen to excuses. Lives by rules older than any of us, treats them like they were carved in stone. If he finds out I’ve been with a man, touching him, kissing him, getting him off, he won’t just disown me, he’ll destroy that part of me. Cut it out like a tumor, burn it away until there’s nothing left but what he thinks a son should be.
“I need to go. My father called a family meeting.” I close my eyes. “That means someone fucked up badly enough that multiple people need to die for it. And he’s going to make me do it.”
“Stop,” he says too loud, then winces. “Can we pretend you have a normal, boring desk job? Like you need to go to the office and handle paperwork or something?”
I blink at him. “My father’s about to ask me to shove someone into the paper shredder until it breaks.”
