Page 15 of Doubts & Fears

“Except for clearly, something is happening, right? I mean, those men”—I leaned in and flicked the pictures—“could have kicked my door in instead of mailing me a shitty package.”

The men in the photo had to be relatives of some sort. My guess would be my real grandfather and possibly an uncle. But where had they been all these years, and why didn’t they come for me? Nausea assaulted my stomach as I thought about them being the ones who gave me the package, especially if they were relatives.

I was never introduced to any extended family on either my papa’s or mama’s side, and I never questioned it. They had been enough. We had Pasha and his family; we didn’t need anyone else. The letter Owen left crossed my mind, and I regretted not reading it once more. I’d bet it was all in there.I’m sorry, Owen. My shoulders sagged as the guilt set in.

“We don’t believe they were behind the package. We’ve ruled them out,” Nik said.

“You have, have you? Good for you. Care to share how?” I prayed he was being truthful and that he’d tell me.

“Not at the moment, no. Now, back to the topic at hand—”

“I’m not that Romanova girl,” I shouted, startling not only them but myself.

The only thing I had left of me was my name. My last name may not have always been Taylor, but it was never Romanova. The stark realization that I didn’t remember what my last name was made me almost miss what he said next.

“Do you want to know what I think?” Nikolai sat back, confident and so sure of himself.

“Not particularly, but somehow, I don’t think you care any more than the Reaper does when I ask him to leave me alone. Go on then, Crow, tell me what you think.” I tried to act as if I didn’t care.

“I think Owen Taylor was a pedophile.”

Inside my mind, I screamed he was wrong. Dead wrong, and on so many levels, but it made no difference. They wouldn’t believe me. Let him think what he wanted.

“Interesting theory you’ve got there. But, by nature, I thought pedophiles acted inappropriately with children. I lived with Owen Taylor for most of my adolescent years and through my teenage years. He never once touched me, looked at me, or made me uncomfortable. It’s too bad I can’t say the same for some here.” I looked around.

“What was your last name before Owen adopted you?” I whipped my head around to face Nik once more. My eyes grew wide. I blinked. How did he know Owen adopted me? I mean, it wasn’t official or anything, but it may as well have been.

And while my name was Mischa Natalya, my last name was lost to me. My mind was blank. When Owen rescued me, he let me pick my new name. Tears filled my eyes as I recalled how I came up with it. The guilt was too much.

I said the first thing to come to mind. “You’re wrong. I…I’m not willing to discuss anything else with you. I’ll tell you like I’ve told Alek. I don’t owe any of you anything. You don’t have to like that. You can say I’m being evasive. But I don’t care anymore.”

He leaned forward, frowning. “That’s not helpful.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. A host of emotions burned through me at his statement: anger, shame, and fear. That ugly name belonged to someone else, and it needed to stay buried.

“My name is Kinsley,” I whispered painfully as my voice broke and I fought back tears. I stood, my face burning as they stared.

“Now you can line up and stick your cocks down my throat, for all I care. But this conversation is over.”

I fell to my knees, and the tears flowed freely. Once more, boots appeared in my line of vision, and a gentle hand lifted my face.

“Please, I can’t do this anymore,” I whispered, staring into the ocean-blue eyes of Ivan King.

“How do you do that? Cry without sound?” he asked in wonder.

I sniffled before truthfully admitting, “I learned a long time ago that emotions are dangerous. And when emotions are how you express yourself, you adapt.”

He gently wiped my tears away. I was mesmerized by how softly he caressed my cheek with his calloused fingers, like this morning.

“Come with me, little love.” He pulled me up for the second time today. I was so tired, I followed him. I didn’t care anymore. My words from earlier haunted me.

I had no right to take the name I did. Guilt and shame consumed me. This was why I didn’t want to answer their questions. After walking me to my room, he opened the door and motioned me in.

He took me to the bed and tucked me in like a child. I was past the point of caring. My mind was categorizing all the things lost to me.

I grabbed his hand as he turned to leave. “Will you stay for a little until I fall asleep? I don’t want to be alone.”

Without a word, he went around to the other side and lay next to me on top of the covers, flat on his back. Our hands touched. I expected him to pull away but was surprised when he didn’t. I laced my fingers through his and drifted off to sleep.

---