Page 133 of Merciless Daddy

At first Yelena talked with one hand moving sharply between them. Kiryl listened, shoulders tucked against the cold. Then he said something that made her shove him lightly.

He shoved her back.

She looked offended.

Then she laughed again.

It was good to watch—nice to see her with a family member who she got on with.

When she finally returned, her cheeks were pink from the wind and her hair had escaped its clip.

“You were out for a very long time,” I said. “It was getting a little dangerous.”

She walked past me into the entryway. “Hello to you too, Daddy.”

“Not wearing gloves?”

She held up her hands. “What does it look like?”

“Looks like you’re acting kind of like a brat.”

She blushed.

“Well, I didn’t get cold.”

I held out my hand. “Let me feel.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Umm . . . it’s against my religion?”

I took her hands in mine.

“They’re like blocks of ice! Next time, gloves.”

“Ugh, fine!”

“Good girl.”

She turned around. Her pale eyes were bright.

“You are not allowed to be irritated at me for taking a walk with my brother.”

“I’m not irritated.”

“You’re doing the eyebrow.”

“My eyebrow has done nothing.”

Kiryl slipped between us, smiling into the collar of my coat. “He’s doing the eyebrow.”

“Traitor,” I said, smiling. “Watch out—you’re a guest here.”

Yelena’s smile widened. Kiryl smiled too.

“Inside,” I said. “Both of you. Hot drinks.”