Page 98 of Kings of Violence

TWENTY-TWO

Konstantin

I’m lookingover the designs again, scowling at them. The internet informs me that this particular crib design might not be the safest for a child. There are supposed to be a lot of fancy features, and probably locks, and whatever other overprotective crap Americans insist on to protect their soft, weak, babies.

I should buy one. I can’t build anything as complicated as what’s recommended. Mine is just a standard, currently unfinished, wooden crib. I’d wanted to embellish it with a few flairs, something to make it unique, but what’s the point if a crib like that would just kill the baby?

The door quietly opens, and I recognize the footsteps without needing to look. Sierra’s boots on the floor are distinct. I turn to face her, and I see it when she spots the crib.

Her face pales, and her lips part like she’s going to say something to me. Instead, she starts to turn with a mumbled, “Nope. Not today, Satan.”

“What?” I ask, confused. “Why Satan?”

She glances at me with a huff of breath. “It’s a saying,” she explains. “It means that… Oh, never mind. Why are you working on a crib? Isn’t it a little early for that?”

“Yes,” I admit with a sigh. “My brother’s mistress is pregnant right now. Maybe I should have it delivered to him.”

As if I would ever send him anything as personalized as this.

He’d take it as an insult, anyway, because it’s hand-made and not the safest, most expensive crib on the market.

“His mistress?” Sierra asks, looking more closely at the crib even though she stays by the door.

“Yes. I guess he didn’t learn from my father.” I let out a bitter chuckle. “Or he did, and doesn’t care.”

I expect this second child to be similarly looked over, constantly striving for recognition, while my brother dotes on his legitimate children instead. Or maybe Roman will surprise me and be a very attentive father, regardless of who the mother is.

“Do you think he’s going to treat her like…” She trails off, and I can see that she’s not sure how much to go into the whole issue. “Is this common in Russian society? The whole mistress versus wife thing?”

“I think it is common with men who are rich and powerful,” I say, regarding her closely. I could easily have more women in my lap—but if I’m honest, I’ve never much cared for the idea of cheating on a partner. I get so angry, thinking about how my father treated my mother, and I have no intention of doing that to any person. “Are you worried? I have no intention of finding anybody else. You have my full attention.”

It’s almost a full minute before she replies, but I’m patient enough to let her sort out her thoughts. “I’m worried I’m going to end up pregnant with a child no one actually wants, yes. You know I don’t want to have a baby at all,” she says bluntly, “and I definitely don’t want to be a single mother when my life is just getting started.”

“Why would we not want the baby?” I ask, truly surprised. “I want a child. I wantyourchild. You are a beautiful, clever woman, and any child I—or Yura, or Nikolai—had with you would be amazing.”

Sierra purses her lips. “So you don’t care if it turns out to be Yuri or Nikolai’s? What if you find a woman you want to marry, andyou decide you don’t want to deal with some illegitimate child?” She holds up a hand before I can reply, though, sighing. “No, you wouldn’t do that after the shit you went through, I guess. But you can’t blame me for worrying.”

“A child is a child,” I say fiercely. “I would not care who the biological father is.” I stop and scowl. “That is not an invitation to fuck anybody but us three. I would not forgive betrayal.”

She glares back at me. “Wow, is that what you think of me? That I’m just going to spread my legs for anyone? I’m already exhausted from the three of you trying to fuck me all the time. I don’t need another person on that particular roster,” she retorts.

“Then there is no problem at all,” I say with finality. I smile at her. “I’m going to scrap this crib. We’ll buy a modern one. With the best safety ratings.”

She looks at it again. “Okay,” she says slowly.

“What?” I ask. I run my hand over one of the railings I’d made, grimacing when I feel a splinter from where I’d missed a spot while sanding.

Sierra manages a strained smile. “It’s just nice, is all. Personal.” She shakes her head. “But you’re probably right about getting one that’s got all the bells and whistles.” She finally approaches me, inspecting the crib. “Maybe you could make a simple bassinet, to keep the… the baby close when it’s just been born.”

“Wouldn’t we want an extra safe one then, too?” I shake my head. “I’ll finish refurbishing that rocking chair. And build a changing table. I can repurpose some of this wood so it wasn’t a total waste of effort.”

I fold up the blueprints for the crib and get up, wiping my hands on my work apron.

“I’m surprised you’re willing to admit defeat,” she says. “I’m used to asshole douchebags who insist they do everything the best.”

“I don’t give up,” I say. “But I know how to pick my battles. There is no point in continuing something that won’t work anyway.” I incline my head at her. “Why are you here, anyway? You didn’t come here to watch me do woodworking.”

“This came,” she says, pulling an envelope out of her pocket.She looks wary as she hands it over to me. “I said I’d bring it to you.”

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