Page 48 of Brutal Secrets

“I don’t know, honey. Probably not. Ten years is a long time without seeing someone, and I didn’t spend a long time with him in Russia.”

“But you didn’t say never. Isn’t that what you usually say? Never say never?”

As I stand and bend down to press a kiss to her forehead, footsteps head down the corridor. I pray to god they weren’t Vadim’s.

Chapter Thirty-Two

The kitchen is a hum of activity. It’s like a play where all the actors know their roles and I haven’t learned my lines. I lean in the doorway and watch the morning tableau with a sharp stab of longing.

In another life, this could have been mine.

I shake my head to knock that string of thought loose. No good can come from it.

An older woman with wide hips and bobbed gray hair pours batter into a pan on the stove, making thin golden pancakes. I recognize Nona from Moscow. She flips the blini in the pan and browns the other side before sliding it onto a tall stack and walking the plate over to a small kitchen table. She sets it down before Dex, who grins and pulls it toward him.

“Nona, will you marry me? I’d ride off into the sunset with you for your pancakes alone.” His eyes twinkle up at her.

“Stupid man. Blini.” She points down at the stack of crepes and shakes her head. “Not pancakes. Terrible American things. Don’t taste good.”

“I bet I could make you love them. With bacon and syrup.” Dex licks his lips and blows her a kiss as she laughs at him.

My daughter sits between them. “Knock it off, Dex. Nona’s not going to marry you until I’m grown up. She has to cook me all the good food until I’m big and strong.” The words turn into a mumble as she talks around a mouthful of pancake.

“Close your mouth when you eat. And elbows off the table,” Kesera says as she comes in behind me. “Sit, Vadim. You need breakfast. Is there sour cream, Nona? I’m not counting calories this morning.”

“Shouldn’t be counting calories ever.” Nona brings sour cream, honey, and jam to the table. She gestures at an empty seat and I lower myself into it, trying to wrap my head around the scene in front of me and wondering what my lines should be in this play.

The presence of my daughter has thrown me for a loop. I know nothing about girls, let alone small girls.

Andrei stands at the back door with a smirk. “I’m going for a cigarette, boss. Enjoy your breakfast.”

I’m about to flip him off when I remember my daughter is sitting opposite me. I look over at her as she watches me spear a forkful of blini and bring it to my mouth, choking it down at her next sentence.

“So, Dad, do I have any brothers and sisters?”

Dex snorts with laughter. “Way to go for the jugular, kid.”

“What’s a jugular?”

Dex grins at her and draws a line across his throat. “It’s an artery right here,” he says, pointing his fork at Nadia.

She smirks at him before turning back to me. “It would be cool if I had a sister, but I’m not sure how I feel about brothers. Boys stink.”

I smile at her and look over at her mother, who’s standing by the table and watching me warily. I keep my eyes on hers as I reply. “You’re my one and only.”

“As far as you know.” Dex chokes back another laugh, but stops when he sees my thunderous expression.

“This isn’t something I would joke about. I wouldn’t bring children into a world where I can’t keep them safe. I’m quite sure.” My gaze bounces between mother and daughter, taking in Kesera’s tense posture and my daughter’s carefree fixation on her breakfast.

“Is that why you didn’t come and find us?” Nadia asks, tilting her head to the side as she picks up a bottle of honey and pours it all over her blini.

“Something like that. I thought it would be better for all of you if I stayed away.”

Nadia raises her head and fixes me with her pale-blue eyes. It’s like looking in a mirror. She looks so much like me. I meet her stare and wait to see if she’ll look away, but I cast my gaze down first. Unlike when I’m staring down guys who work for me or men who owe me money, I’m the one who’s most nervous in this staring contest.

“I’m glad you’re here. I’d like to have a dad,” she says, and then cuts her blini in half, jamming it into her mouth so that she’s too full to say more.

Kesera scrubs at her eyes and then sits down at the table. I take a deep breath. My stomach might be in knots, but I promised I would try to be kind. There’s no point being cruel for the sake of it.

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