Page 15

“Of course. Dinner’s not for another two hours, and Zasha should be back by then.”

“Sounds good.”

The door closed behind Yuriy. Exhaling a long breath, Yelena led me a few steps to the next door. I frowned, not liking being so close to Orlov but not wanting to make a fuss. So far, I had the upper hand. It was my daughter who’d stayed behind to greet us. My picture on the mantel with the rest of the family.

The room was half the size of what I was used to, but it was cozy. A queen-sized bed took up most of the space, layered with an avalanche of pillows in red, green, and white. A knit throw in festive patterns was draped across the footboard. The carpet underfoot muffled every sound, soft and warm, and the faint scent of apple cinnamon lingered in the air.

A single armchair sat angled near the window. A tall dresser stood opposite the bed, topped with a small ceramic tree glowing with tiny colored lights. Across from the chair, a closet door stood ajar. Beside it, another door, likely the bathroom.

The bedroom was comfortable, homey, meant for family, not for men like me who carried grudges instead of gifts. A knock sounded on the door behind us, and Arty dropped off my bags just inside the door. When he was gone, I smiled at my daughter.

“You gave up everything but the driver, I see.”

She chuckled, walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge. “It’s not me, but Zasha. We really can’t afford Arty, but Zasha saved him from being beaten by a couple of guys who wanted to extort money from him. When Arty found out we were looking for a driver, he volunteered for free, but we wouldn’t let him especially since he has an adult son who he supports. It’s been a wonderful arrangement for everyone.”

The words were on the tip of my tongue to ask her if she had any regrets. She’d left a life of luxury and status as the daughter of one of the most feared men in Chicago to live as a civilian. Did she truly not regret it?

“Zasha can’t make much as a music teacher.”

Yelena’s hand went to her belly, smoothing the knit of her sweater as if to calm the child inside. She lifted her eyes, steady, unwavering. “No. But he gets paid handsomely for writing commercial jingles and ghost writing lyrics for a few big names. You’d be surprised what that kind of work brings in.”

She smiled, soft but certain, and for a moment I saw it. Her happiness. Despite leaving a life of luxury behind her, she was content with her choice.

“He’s made you happy, then?” I asked.

She nodded. “He takes care of me so well, Papa, and he’ll be an amazing father. Our life is exactly the way I pictured it.”

“Without us in it?” I had no idea why I said “us.” I didn’t care if they included Orlov or not as long as I had the chance to watch my grandchild grow up.

“That’s not the way we would have wanted it, but after what happened, neither you nor Yuriy gave us much of a choice.” She placed a hand on her tummy. “Yuriy broke Zasha’s arm and threatened to send him to Russia. We were out of options.”

The heartless bastard. I would have never harmed a hair on my daughter’s head, even if she snuck out to date Zasha. I was more likely to dig a grave for him, but Yuriy had no such conscience about inflicting pain on his brother, the child he raised.

“Keeping the peace these past two years has been the toughest thing I’ve ever done,” I admitted.

“But you did it.”

“Because I missed you. I needed to know you were safe and happy. What if anything happened to you? How would I know?”

“Truthfully, I wasn’t even sure if you would both survive the drive from the airport. I’m not so naïve anymore to think the hatchet is fully buried, but thank you for not bludgeoning Zasha’s brother to death.”

I snorted. “Trust me, it wasn’t easy. I’ve never met a man more insufferable than that Orlov. I am trying, printsessa, but don’t be surprised if I smash a plate over his head during dinner.”

She laughed softly, though worry lingered in her eyes. “Papa, please. I know it won’t be easy, but try with him. Zasha wasn’t sure about inviting him at all. We were only going to invite you, but… I thought it was only fair. After all, he gave up his childhood to raise Zasha. He’s a part of this family whether we like it or not.”

“You should have listened to Zasha.” I wandered the room, brushed my hand over the dresser, then inched toward the door on the far side I figured led to the bathroom. I turned the knob, and my stomach dropped.

Not only was I accurate that it was a bathroom, but Yuriy stood on the other side.

“Zasha said he can be a bit of a dick, so I’m counting on you to be the mature one,” Yelena said behind me.

Yuriy’s eyes met mine, sharp as glass. Color bloomed in his cheeks, and he doubled his hands into fists. How much had he heard?

Another win for me. It was clear his brother had a problem with him. He wasn’t supposed to be here, and now he knew it. Would he take the initiative and leave? We would be able to have a good Christmas without him.

Neither of us spoke.

“Papa? You okay?”