Page 40 of Doc

If he has more to say, I don’t get to hear it as my phone begins to vibrate. Pulling it out quickly so it doesn’t disturb Doc, I quietly curse. “Excuse me, sir, I need to take it.”

“Go, we’ll be fine here.”

Carefully, I slide out from underneath Doc, who only stirs a little. I can’t resist leaning over and pressing a kiss to his forehead before I stride quickly out of the room.

By the time I get to the door, the call has gone to voicemail, but it doesn’t take long for it to ring again.

I barely have the office door closed behind me when I answer, giving the guard currently stationed outside of the office a brief nod as I bring the phone to my ear. “Papa,” I hiss, striding down the hall. “I’m working.”

“I’ve been calling you for days, boy,”Nikolai says.“You mean to tell me you’ve beenworkingthis entire time?”

“Yes, Papa. I don’t know if you’re aware, but shit went down three days ago and it’s been all hands on deck ever since.”

He grunts, and I take that to mean he has heard about the attempt on Georgio De Luca’s life, he just doesn’t give a shit. According to him, no one outside the Bratva matters unless there’s something to be gained from them. Never mind my uncle and Cristian have had a truce in place since shortly after Roman was born, and with me coming to the Amatos, their alliance has only grown in strength.

“You mean you’re not done playing with the Italians yet?”

I barely repress a huff and lean against the wall, having turned down a hall off the one Doc’s office connects to for a semblance of privacy. I’m aware someone probably knows my movements from the cameras scattered through the house, but it’s the best I can do without going too far in case Doc needs me.

“I’m not playing at anything, Papa. This is my life, my career, we’ve discussed this before.”

“You’re too good for them, Sory. You’ll regret it soon enough, and by then it’ll be too late for your uncle to do anything but watch as they put you in your place.”

I try not to let his words get to me. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, butfuck, I wish my own fucking father didn’t think so little of me. Gritting my teeth, I count backwards from ten, first in English, then Russian, hoping to calm myself enough so I don’t say something I’ll regret.

“I’m here to stay, Papa. I wish you’d respect me and my choices. I’m becoming my own man, isn’t that what every father wants from his son?”

“I want a son I can be proud of, boy. Not someone who jumped ship because he doesn’t have any Goddamn loyalty! What kind of message does that send to the Bratva? Ivan can’t even keep his own nephew in check! How do you think that makes him look? Like a capable Pakhan? Pfft, you’re both kidding yourselves.”

“Enough, Papa,” I snap. “As his brother and my father you should be showingyourrespect. How does it look that you question your Pakhan? Huh? If Uncle Ivan is a fool for letting me go then you’re an even bigger one for raising me, for not talking sense into your brother.”

If rage could be felt over the phone, I’d probably be quivering now. The teenage Soren who knew he couldn’t tell his father he’s gay returns and I pray he can’t hear how unsteady my breathing is. In all my twenty-five years of life, this is only the second time I’ve stood up to him, and the first was when I told him I was leaving the Bratva.

“You have your mother’s fire, boy,”is all he says after a long minute.

I don’t dare believe he means that as a good thing. I know my father far too well. “Spasibo,” I say anyway, knowing it’ll only piss him off further, but I’m already in deep shit so it doesn’t matter.

“Don’t disrespect me, Sory,”he growls.“You are not too old for me to put you in your place.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Papa. And I respect you, I just don’t always have to agree.” Only one of those things is a lie.

“You should come around to dinner soon, boy. It’s been too long since we’ve had a face to face, even before you up and betrayed me.”

Biting back a sigh, I say, “If I have free time, Papa, we can arrange something, maybe at Uncle Ivan’s?”

His noncommittal grumble says he knows what I’m doing, but I’m not stupid. The ghost of a memory only a few months old makes my wrist throb. After all, I may carry emotional scars from my childhood, the same can’t be said for anything that happened after I turned eighteen, and Nikolai thought I should have been treated like arealman.

Because, of course, becoming a nurse somehow puts that into question. Fucking toxic masculinity at its finest.

“I need to get back, Papa. I’ll talk to you soon, da?”

“Yes, sure. I am serious about dinner, Sory. Don’t make me wait too long.”

“Never, Papa. I’ll be in touch.”

The line goes dead and I drop my arm to the side, resisting the urge to pitch my phone at the opposite wall. Closing my eyes, I take longer than I probably should to regroup, but right now I don’t give a shit. Talking to my father is always a minefield of emotions I need to wade through, and one day, I’m terrified I’ll step on the wrong one.

“I’m fine,” I insist as James grabs me by the shoulders from behind and shoves me toward the door.

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