Page 43 of Inked in Devotion

I reached for Sebastian and was pleased when his eyes sparkled with joy and he let out a cheery giggle. His merriment never failed to chase the chill in my frost-battened heart. The first time I felt that kick in the chest, it was unexpected. Not even when Irina forced Kirill and I to hold Aralina when she was a baby. Kirill was more robotic than I was.

Irrationally, I was pissed off that Sebastian was conceived while Chloe thought I was that Frenchman. Had she been attracted to that guy? Was I feeling jealousy at a man who was a version of me?

It was definitely jealousy that led me to stalk Chloe last night.

“He seems to be in a good mood,” I said.

“I gave him a bottle at five.”

“I can make eggs for him,” Dora offered.

The doorbell rang.

“Ugh, we’re supposed to meet Lucy for breakfast over at the main house.”

“Lucy texted me and said it was a bad idea and she was just too excited.” And I had agreed with her. “She said to take our time today.”

“Oh, thank God.”

I opened the door to Sorcha. The housekeeper, and if you asked me, the one who kept this estate running flawlessly. She’d been in the Zahkarovs’ employ since before Kirill was sent to Russia. She was a tall Irish woman who kept her salt-and-pepper hair twisted in a bun. And she arrived, hefting a heavy breakfast tray.

“Oh, look at the boy.” Sorcha’s gray eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Nikolai, he’s beautiful.”

My chest swelled with pride—one of the many new emotions I started feeling since I found out I’d become a father. Because it wasn’t about the successful execution of a kill. My life had been born in blood and death, but with Sebastian, it was about life. It lifted me up instead of sucking my soul deeper and deeper into the darkness. That was the only way I could describe it. And frankly, I wasn’t sure if I deserved my son, but I was selfish enough to hang on to him.

“He is?”

“His eyes are yours.”

I stepped aside so that Sorcha could bring in the breakfast tray, filled with room-service-style covered dishes.

“Tell Lucy to buy you one of those room-service carts.”

She laughed. “That has come up in conversation when she was renovating this cottage.”

She set the tray down on the counter and introduced herself to Chloe and Dora, offering her services of grocery shopping. Sorcha rarely smiled until Lucy entered Kirill’s wintry household, but I’d been seeing her more animated lately rather than the pinched expression she had worn for years.

“Can I hold him?” Sorcha turned to me.

“I don’t know. I just held him for like five minutes,” I grumbled.

“Give him up, Kolya,” Chloe chided. “You have all day with him.”

“We have to collect your things at the apartment later, and he’s suspicious of strangers.”

“Ah, but I have my way with the babies,” Sorcha said. She was almost in her sixties, and I used to see the worry lines on her forehead and creases at the corners of her eyes, but I seemed to remember Kirill griping about how Lucy had bought the house staff a day at the spa and paid for all the skin care products for those who would like to partake in the benefit.

According to her, one way to keep the staff loyal was when you cared about their well-being.

It was an excellent argument, especially since bratva soldiers tended to be assholes. Kirill needed to keep the support staff happy.

The bratva was looking more and more like a corporation.

Sorcha’s face settled into a tender expression. “Come on, my boy, come to your auntie Sorcha.”

Sebastian leaned toward her, but I pulled back.

Sorcha glared at me briefly but continued smiling at Sebastian.