Page 93 of Ivory Ashes

They would both leave if they could.

I carry my plate to the sink and rinse it off. “No.”

“I’m not going to see Emerson anymore? Or Gianna?” He grabs Viviana’s hand and tugs on it, his voice watery. “We were supposed to have a pajama party because we learned all of our sight words. I have a book from the library and Mrs. Witt says we get in trouble if we don’t take them back.”

“You’re not going back.” It comes out more harshly than I mean it to. I take a breath. “This is your normal school now, Dante. You aren’t going to see them again.”

I can see him shaking his head out of the corner of my eye. “But?—”

“You need to get dressed. Mrs. Steinman will be here soon. Your mom can help you.”

Viviana is staring down at her plate, but her knuckles are white around her fork. It takes a significant effort to lay it down on the table and stand up. But when she does, a paper-thin smile is smeared across her face.

“Come on, bud. Let’s go find some clothes to wear.”

Dante starts to argue, but Viviana swipes the last strip of bacon off the plate and dangles it in front of him.

He snatches it out of her hand and trots down the hallway, happily snacking.

I’m alone for a blissful fifteen seconds before Anatoly whistles. “You’re going to get it from Viv later.”

“Go away, Nat.”

“She looked piiissed.” He plucks a raspberry out of the fruit bowl and plops it in his mouth. “What do you think, Raoul?”

Raoul slinks out of the back hallway, his head down. At least he has the decency to look ashamed for eavesdropping. “It wasn’t great.”

“He asked me a question and I told him the truth.”

“When he asks if Santa Claus is real, make sure you really let him have it,” Anatoly suggests. “Kids these days are too soft, anyway, with all of their childhood magic and hope.”

“Fuck off. It’s not the same.” I shove away from the counter and head for my office.

Anatoly and Raoul fall right into step behind me. “If you want my advice,” Anatoly starts, “you should?—”

“I don’t.”

“You should take it easy on both of them.”

I slam to a stop and spin around. “I’m giving them a roof over their heads and making sure Dante has the best education money can buy. I’d say that’s ‘taking it pretty easy.’”

“That’s all nice, but it’s not the same as freedom.” Raoul slides his hands into his pockets, his shoulders hunched. “Living with you was better than being with my parents, but it still wasn’t quite… At first, it wasn’t the same. It took some getting used to.”

I understand why Raoul sees similarities here. The only reason Viviana has any connection to the Novikov Bratva at all is because her father handed her to Trofim on a silver platter. But it’s different. Viviana is different.

She isn’t some consolation prize of war. She isn’t a slave.

She’s my wife. The mother of my child.

She’s… different.

But I can’t explain that now without Anatoly making kissy faces at me and I’m not in the mood.

So I nod. “Yeah. I’ll keep my cool. I’ll give them both time to adjust.”

And I mean it.

Or… I want to mean it.

---