Page 29 of Sinful Games

His gaze traveled from my chest down to my legs. “Why are you really living here, Caia? Don’t get me wrong, the place is... cute,” he said, casually pushing aside a small rose-shaped cushion on the couch beside him—a memento knitted by my mama when I was five. “But you’re Mankiev’s daughter,” he continued, inhaling from his cigarette. “Your papa is one of the richest dealers in the country.”

“Not richer than you, though,” I breathed out.

“Nyet,” he shrugged nonchalantly. He took another drag of his cigarette, the smoke swirling around him. “So, what’s the story? Papa cut you off?”

I crossed my arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I don’t need my Papa’s money. I prefer to live on my terms, not his.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Independent and feisty. I like that.”

Ignoring him, I resumed working on my baking, feeling like I’d made a questionable choice letting him into my kitchen. Still, the tension crackled in the air, like I’d mixed a pinch of mischief and alluring danger with my flour.

I took a deep breath, deciding to share a glimpse of my reality with him.

“My babushka is sick. Parkinson’s,” I admitted, my tone softening. “I need to be close so I can take care of her. My boss lets me stay in this studio, so I can be there for her whenever she needs me.”

“Family first,” he whispered.

I nodded, not expecting him to truly grasp the depth of my commitment to my babushka and …father. “Family is everything.”

My family is my everything, and I’d go to any lengths to protect them—even if it means navigating the delightful mess of my father’s evil antics.

So, if breaking your heart is the price to keep my babushka and me safe, Alexsei Romaniev, then unfortunately, it’s a necessary evil.

Chapter

Ten

“Until you step into the unknown, you don’t know what you’re made of.”

?Roy T. Bennett

Alexsei

Strolling down the hallway, a thick silence hung in the air, only broken by the antiseptic smell of sanitizer, failing miserably to mask the odor of death.

As I moved, the sound of my steps echoed, giving the whole place a heavy feeling.

Finding Room 305 in this freaking maze was like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

As I navigated the corridors, the open doors of the residents' rooms offered glimpses intotheir lives.

Some were peacefully tucked under blankets, keeping warm not just from the nighttime chill but also from the relentless march of time. Others were absorbed in solitary activities, finding solace in books, the gentle glow of the TV, or lost in their own thoughts, gazing into the distance. Even though they were all doing different things, there was this one thing that connected them all: the certainty that they were all heading towards the unknown, towardsdeath.

I reached door 305 and slowly closed it behind me after stepping inside. The room remained unchanged—its walls still bore the same faded yellowish hue, devoid of any vibrancy, and haunted by the ghosts of past memories.

I took a seat in the lone chair beside his bed.

I always tell people that both my parents have died, but it’s just a fucking lie.

The truth is that the bastard who happens to be my father is still hanging on but just barely.

Funny coincidence, Caia works at the same retirement home where I dumped my father off six years ago.

When my mom died, it seemed like some strange turn of events that my dad suddenly fell ill with throat cancer and landed in the hospital.

He was already well into his late 50s by then.

As the cancer progressed, I made the choice to remove him from my life entirely.

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