Page 63 of Sexting the Single Pakhan

His eyebrows shoot up. "You're picking up Alexei from school? Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"

I glare. "Out."

He stands slowly, still chuckling. "I like this Laurel effect on you. It's... softening the edges."

"Get. Out."

He raises his hands again, backing toward the door. "I'm going, I'm going."

The door closes behind him. I exhale, drop into my chair, and rub a hand over my face. Damn it, he's not entirely wrong.

I’ve thought about it. More times than I care to count. Late nights when she’s asleep against my chest, I’ve stared at the ceiling and rehearsed the conversation in my head. The truth about the blood on my hands and the dark things I’ve done.

Every single time, I shut it down before the words can form. Because I know exactly what would happen. She’d look at me the way people look at storms—wary, then gone.

Laurel is pure. My sunshine. She’s not built for the darkness in my world. A good man would cut her loose right now. Let her walk away untouched by the rot that clings to me. That’s what decency would demand.

But I’ve never claimed to be decent.

What I feel for her isn’t soft or noble. It’s deep, possessive, rooted somewhere primal I didn’t even know existed until she walked into my life. I’m not letting it go. Not her. Not what we have.

And the watching? She’d be furious if she knew Sergei was now on her tail, that I never really stopped. I promised her I’d back off. I lied. Because the second I let my guard down, someone could use her to get to me.

I have enemies who don’t forgive, don’t forget, and don’t care that she’s innocent. I protect what’s mine. She’s mine. I won’t gamble with her safety just to keep her from hating me for a while.

If she catches the new tail, then maybe that’s the moment I come clean. Hopefully she doesn’t run. And if she does… well, I’m going after her.

My phone buzzes on the desk. I glance down.

Laurel: Guess who’s playing with his classmate?

A photo loads: Alexei hunched over a colorful board game on the classroom rug, shoulder-to-shoulder with a little girl his age.

A real smile tugs at my mouth before I can stop it. I type back: Good to see him mingling with the others.

Her reply is instant: YES! I’m so happy for him. He’s finally opening up.

I lean back in the chair, still staring at the photo. The way she pours herself into this, into Alexei getting better, chips away at something hard inside me every damn day.

I’m neck-deep in work when a soft knock pulls me out of it. Elena, my assistant, steps in halfway.

“Mr. Volkov, it’s time to pick up your son. School lets out in fifteen minutes.”

I glance at my watch. Damn. I’ve completely lost track of time. “Thank you, Elena.”

She nods and slips out. I shove the papers aside, grab my coat from the back of the chair, and head down.

Traffic is light for once. I pull up to the school gates just as the last stragglers are leaving. I walk straight to Alexei’s classroom.

He’s sitting at the back of the class, face buried in a thick picture book at his desk, legs swinging under the chair.

And there she is, behind her teacher’s desk, grading papers or something. The second she looks up and sees me, her whole face lights up. That wide, unguarded smile hits me square in the chest.

She stands, starts toward me, and then catches herself. Another parent breezes in behind me to collect their kid. Laurel steps back, smooths her skirt, composes herself.

“Hi,” she says softly.

“Hey.” My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to.