Page 62 of Doc

“Yes, sir. I’m happy to be escorting, Soren,” Dima says, head still bowed respectfully.

Uncle Ivan waves him off. “Enough with the pleasantries. Look at me and tell me which one you are, you know I can never tell. I don’t know how Mak and Kira keep you three straight.”

Dima smiles. “They do not, sir. I am Dmitri.”

“Ah, yes, my aspiring bodyguard.” Uncle Ivan winks. “I hope your training is going well?”

Nothing shows on Dmitri’s face, and his voice is perfectly neutral when he responds, but I know how sore the subject is. “I am learning a lot, sir. You have highly trained men on your payroll.”

Trusting Dima can take care of himself, and unable to put it off any longer, I turn to my father. “Papa,” I greet him, with a respectful nod of my head. “It’s nice to see you again.”

My father has the same bright blue eyes as I do, but like my uncle and cousin, his hair is as dark as coal. His features are harsh, and only seem to grow darker as he takes me in.

When he meets my eyes, they seem to glow with his displeasure. “Sory,” he says. “Did I not tell you to not make me wait before we saw each other?”

I manage to hold back my wince, but make sure to put as much apology in my tone as I can. “I am sorry, Papa. Things have been all over the place with work. It’s been all hands on deck, and I’ve barely had time to sleep. I didn’t mean to make you wait.”

He stares at me for a long moment, assessing my words, before snorting. “Come here then, let me look at you properly.”

Crossing the room, I allow him to hug me briefly, before he steps back and studies my appearance more closely. It’s hard not to squirm under his assessing gaze. I’m all too aware of the fact I don’t measure up to his standards.

My father, uncle, and cousin are all well-built, tall men. Each over six-foot two, they wear their strength with pride, and noone ever questions how intimidating they are as they have the size to back it up.

I, on the other hand, don’t look anything like any of them. Apart from our eye color, my father and I don’t have a feature in common. My light blond hair and delicate features all come from my mother. Though my height is all my own, as my mother is a tall woman at five-eleven.

My slim build and five-six stature has always grated on my father, who, despite my uncle working diligently to try to fix the narrow-minded view of the Bratva, has always had a clear cut idea of what it means to be a man.

Though he learned from being with my mother how to not be so misogynistic, he still has very closed-minded, toxic masculinity ideals about the world. It’s one of the many, many reasons I haven’t come out to him, and I don’t plan to anytime soon.

The part of me that is falling for Doc aches, as I want to share the amazing man I’ve found with my family, but the part that grew up under Nikolai Petrov and the Bratva knows better.

There’s a reason the Amatos are a better fit; there, the two sides of me aren’t at war. I can live and love, and trust that I’m safe to do so openly.

“You look well, Sory.”

“I feel good, Papa. You’re doing well, too, da?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Nothing ails me but old age.” He laughs and I chuckle along.

“You’re not old, Papa. I’m convinced you’re going to live forever.”

He scoffs. “Flattery won’t make me forget you kept me waiting, boy.”

“I’m sorry, Papa. The Amatos needed me. I couldn’t very well abandon them when I was most needed. What was I to say? ‘Oh, sorry, I can’t come in tonight, I know very bad things arehappening, but I need to take a personal day’. How would that have looked?” I meet his gaze head on, knowing better than to show any sort of weakness.

“I enjoy my job, Papa. I would hate to lose it because I pissed them off this early on.”

He scowls. “You are a Petrov, family comes first. Amato should know that.”

I nod. “And he does. The Boss is very family oriented, but I am not Bratva,” I remind him. “I never was, so it’s different.”

He grunts, but some of the ire in his eyes dies, and I allow myself to relax a bit. “You are a good man, loyal, and I hope they appreciate that.”

I smile at him. “I learned from the best, Papa.” The words taste like ash on my tongue, because everyone in the room is distinctly aware I learned nothing from this man except the kind of person Idon’twant to be. But sometimes, lies are kinder than the truth.

Ash grunts when I push him against his bedroom door, crowding him in. We’re close to the same height, but my build is a little wider, and I work hard in order to keep fit. He breathes in deep, arching his hips away from the door as he tries to rub against me.

“You’re such a little slut,” I say lowly. “What would your Daddy say?”

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