Page 173 of Sinful Blaze

“Arlo and I grew close. Oh, we hated each other the way little boys and girls do, but it was how we played. He’d pull my hair and I’d chase him around the grounds, all that silly stuff. But by the time we hit puberty, things changed. We wanted to spend more time together.” Mama laughs before I can even register my disapproval. “It’s true! I started noticing he wasn’t as gross. He started complimenting my hair. Little things, of course, but you know… Our teen years, we were inseparable. And… behind the garden shed… a lot…”

“For fuck’s sake, Mama.”

“Just you wait until my granddaughter becomes that age,” she scolds. “You better hope none of your vors have boys her age hanging around.”

I don’t like the thought of my sweet, innocent little baby girl kissing anyone. Or growing up. Ever.

“Anyway—we made plans to marry. My father was elated, and his father wholeheartedly approved of me, so it was an easy decision.” She takes another sip. Her face darkens. “Or so we thought.”

I don’t know why a pit forms in my stomach. “What happened?”

Mama sets her cup down and takes a moment to think about it. Her eyes begin to glisten. I immediately regret the question.

“Your father happened.” She clears her throat and shakes her head. “Your father, Kostya… He was one of Arlo’s best friends. Their fathers were allies, they attended the same school together, and in their own way, they were inseparable. Until…”

The pieces are beginning to fall into place. “Until Kostya wanted what he didn’t have.”

“More like he demanded it,” she confirms. “Not once did he ever show an interest in me, not until Arlo declared his plans to marry me. Next thing either of us knew, Pakhan Chekhov made both our fathers an offer they couldn’t refuse.”

Knowing Kostya, I’d say it was more likely a threat they couldn’t ignore.

“He chose the Bratva.” I’ve lost my taste for the tea, so I set it aside. “Arlo. That’s what he meant by choosing the Bratva.”

“It was me, or his family’s legacy. I wasn’t worth the sacrifice.” She smiles at me. The sadness in her eyes is almost too much. It reminds me too much of the darker days, back when Kostya was still alive. When she was still his punching bag. “We barely had time to say goodbye. I think Kostya wanted to make sure we wouldn’t run away, but… I don’t know. All I did know was that one moment, I was begging Arlo to hide me, and the next, I was Kostya’s wife. Found out I was pregnant with you a month later. Kostya was so proud, and I was just… I went with it. Better that way.”

“Did you ever try finding Arlo? Or did he ever come for you?”

I think I already know the answer. For the leader of one Bratva to steal the wife of another’s would be an act of war.

“Kostya and I came to America shortly before you were born, so it wasn’t easy to look Arlo up. A few years later, he showed up to discuss business and maintain the family alliance, but by then, he was also married. She was very lovely.” Mama wipes her unshed tears away. “I think the responsibilities of becoming a father kept him back in Russia. After a while, he stopped coming here and sent representatives instead. It’s been that way ever since.”

Until now, for whatever reason.

I know Arlo said he abdicated to his son for the sake of retirement, but I have this unshakeable gut feeling that there’s more to it than that.

I also have a gut feeling that Arlo is going to be around… a lot.

“Did you love him?” I blurt before I can second-guess myself.

She smiles. “More than anything.”

The words echo what I told Arlo in the office. I brood in silence for a moment, both of us just breathing and quiet.

Then my mother looks up at me again. “And you know what? I never stopped.” She clasps my hand between two of hers. “Love like ours doesn’t wither and die in the dark. If anything, it grows even more until the sunlight returns.”

“Explains why you’re glowing.”

Mama blushes once more before letting go of me.

Sighing, I lean over and kiss the top of her head. “I love you, Mama. I want you to be happy. We all do. I also want you to be careful. We all do.”

Mama pats my cheek. “I’m in perfectly good hands, malysh. Exceptionally good hands.”

I roll my eyes. “Just make sure he knows that the second he hurts you, I’m ripping his spine through his throat.”

She laughs. “Oh, I’m sure he knows. You two are birds of a feather, after all.”

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