Page 44 of Frequency of Attraction

“So, you’ll come?”

His curving lips looked wicked. “Yes. And so will you.”

They took the Geier jet to Boston the next day and landed at dusk. Predictably, Vadim had asked if she’d wanted to join the mile-high club. Of course she’d agreed. Sitting next to her on the bench seat, he’d coaxed an orgasm out of her with just whispered words and his fingers under her dress. The rest of the time, he read Stratos’ manuals. With his lips moving. While wearing glasses. He was so fucking cute with glasses that she took a picture when he wasn’t looking.

They took a cab to her place. Quinn realized as she unlocked the door only for the second time that she was bringing Vadim into her sacred space. A place she had purchased for her future. But their presence there had less to do with Quinn’s future and more to do with his. She’d texted the elder Mila and arranged for them to meet at a park near her place the next day. She had a feeling she could keep Vadim occupied until then. After? Well, she had no idea how he’d react to Quinn taking this step without his permission. And now she understood why Tate had kept his secret from Rosie. Maybe gestures like theirs, the need to provide in deep ways, ran in their blood.

Vadim had helped break the barriers holding her back from normalcy, from physical pleasure she was entitled to enjoy as a human and a woman. She wanted to remove his barriers, too. Everything holding him back from Mila, she had handled. She hoped he saw the act as the utter gratitude she meant it to be. He deserved to know his daughter, and Mila deserved a chance to know the dedicated man her father was. The elder Mila had agreed. She’d been thrilled to hear from Quinn. Annika had never even told her Mila’s father’s name. Quinn had been able to sing Vadim’s praises and share the good news that he lived in the States. Both women had ended the conversation in tears.

Vadim did not fuck her Friday night. But, in her giant bed and empty house, he did make her scream. Twice.

Quinn didn’t think she’d be able to sleep from nerves, but apparently multiple orgasms had a soporific effect. They rolled out of bed at eight the next morning. He went for a run while Quinn ordered food delivered and confirmed plans with Mila. In two hours, Vadim’s life would change.

Jitters dogged her steps as they made their way to the park later that morning. She’d told Vadim she wanted to see the neighborhood on foot. She slipped her hand into his as they got closer. She needed steadying. He twitched at the gesture but didn’t pull away. His fingers wove into hers after a few moments of resistance.

Quinn spotted the elder Mila first, whom she recognized from the PI’s email. Her eyes scanned the playground equipment for the cherubic face etched on Vadim’s back. She spotted blonde curls, a little sprite chasing the merry-go-round and shrieking, “Babushka, look at meeeee!”

The woman called out in warm tones and waved. Vadim slowed and then stopped. Quinn’s mouth dried to dust while she waited for his reaction. His hand squeezed hers in a vice grip. “Quinn?” He sounded so unsure.

“Go. She wants to meet you.”

He looked down at her. She couldn’t interpret the look in his sapphire eyes. “You…”

“Oui. We’ll talk about it later. Your daughter’s waiting, Vadim.”

22

Your daughter is waiting. Words he didn’t think he’d ever hear.

Quinn pulled away and he felt strangely adrift, like a boat severed from anchor. Fatherhood was uncharted waters. Quinn joined the woman on a bench who had to be Annika’s mother. They hugged and started chatting like old friends. The woman had even brought a gift, it looked like.

Vadim brought his gaze back to the tiny human traipsing through the sand in purple shoes. Her little fingers trailed across each rail of the merry-go-round. She paused to pick up a rock, squinting at it. A grin broke across her face and Vadim perished and resurrected in the same moment.

“Baba, look! A pink rock!”

She put it in her pocket without waiting for a response and dropped into the sand to start digging. Vadim lurched forward as if compelled. He bent down to scoop up a green rock as he got closer. Mila’s eyes tracked the movement. He couldn’t stop staring at her. God, she looked just like him. Like her Aunt Dasha. They had the same eyes. He moved closer, crouching down in front of her.

“Mine’s green,” he said, holding it out. What had happened to his voice? It sounded like ground glass.

She took the pebble from him and studied it seriously, then removed hers from her pocket to compare. “Nice, but mine is pinker.”

He smiled. “Do you want to keep it so yours has a friend?”

Her eyes lit up. “Yes!Spasibo.”

“You’re welcome.”

Vadim sat down in the sand across from her. She dug with a bit of stick, making a hole, or possibly a home, for the two rocks.

“Are you my papa?”

His mouth wouldn’t work. He had no words for that innocent, important question. He nodded, though she wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes raised to meet his. Every butterfly in existence swarmed in his stomach. “I like all your pictures.”

“Pictures?”

Her tiny finger touched the back of his hand, a diamond-shaped pattern he’d seen on a building in Sheffield while there with the footballers. “I get in trouble when I draw on myself. Do you get in trouble, too?”

He shook his head. He wanted more of the warmth from her little fingers. “Which picture is your favorite?”

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