Page 153 of Voracious

The door hits my back and I’m pushed forward by my perfect, raging daughter. She scans the dickhead and eases, seeing that he’s unharmed before she stands in front of me with the same warning as always.

“If you hurt him, I’ll hurt you.”

There’s a sapphire on her finger. One I regret finding after the police seized everything in Dima’s house when he was a child. I thought it would go to Katya and he was always fucking upset about it but this is how he’s repaid my rare kindness, cunt.

Vanya didn’t threaten to kill me, she said hurt. It’s lessening and I can’t help my smile as I nod. The warmth in my chest doesn’t reach my voice as I send the fucker out and she remains, with me where she belongs. Now that Dima’s ugly ass isn’t tainting the air, I gesture to the seat he vacated and soften my voice.

“Sit down, solnyshkuh.”

She rolls her eyes and drags her feet just to be difficult. “Stop staring at me.”

Her eyes are fixed on the gift bags beside my desk, eyes that I thought I’d forgotten but the first time I saw them without her contacts I recognized them. A small smile lifts her lips when she cranes her neck and sees what’s inside of the first bag.

Fuck, my heart is beating too fast, and my hands are clammy. I wipe them on the side of my thigh as I take the seat beside her, then use the tip of my finger to pick up the pink ribbon handle, so I don’t fuck the bag up. I gently place it on her thighs and emotion chokes me, muting the words I never thought I’d be able to say.

“Happy birthday, solnyshkuh.”

Her smile, the smile I’ve missed her entire life, gets wider and a faint blush stains the apple of her cheeks as she takes the bag from me and asks, “Is it for me?”

I nod, incapable of saying anything.

My happy baby excitedly takes out the first item, her eyes lighting up and her smile stretching from ear to ear as she presses the side of the knife to push the blade out. The casing is the same light pink as her socks and it has a smiley face on it like the sticker she always speaks to before a fight. It must be her good luck charm and now she’ll always have it with her.

I took her advice and enlisted Inessa to buy her a dress and she’s wearing it now. I’ve finally been able to give her her birthday present, but I don’t disturb her as she goes through each of her gifts. There’s one item left before I can give my baby girl her birthday cake and I clear my throat as I stand.

Vanya carefully places her knives, knuckle dusters, and every little thing I had made in the same pale pink color on the desk. She watches me as I take out the wooden case from my desk then go back to her. The glitter from one of the bags has stuck to her nose and I instinctively trace the slope of her nose to remove it. Her face scrunches up and her lips twitch as she mumbles, “That tickles.”

“I know, solnyshkuh,” I whisper and hate that I’ve missed decades of her life, of waking her up by tracing the slope of her nose and watching her smile.

The diamonds on her neck sparkle under the lights and I turn the box to face her. She has the softest smile on her face as she eagerly watches me open it and her eyes widen at the sight of what I’m hoping will replace Dima’s pathetic attempt at claiming her.

A small laugh brushes past her lips as she snort-laughs and says, “It looks like blood.”

The rubies are held on a thin, near invisible rope of platinum and in the center is our insignia because she’s a Vartanova. Not Dima’s or anyone fucking else’s.

Her brows come together and she looks up, full of innocence, and asks, “You already gave me the earrings, do I have to give them back?”

“No, you can have them both. Those were given because I fucked up and thought you were our sister, but you’re my daughter, you deserve something more.”

“Will Verena have the same?”

“No, she has a bracelet she likes but it’s in the safe until she’s older.”

She’ll most likely want a crown when she’s older too.

But my eldest daughter, my solnyshkuh, takes the necklace and holds it under the shitty one. “They look nice together.”

“You can throw the other one away.”

Her eyes harden and she slowly looks at me and huffs, “Stop being an asshole, I thought you were nice and then you ruined it.”

The huff continues as she curses under her breath and attempts to do the clasp but misses it. I lift up into a half squat and do the clasp for her so she doesn’t struggle with it. She doesn’t kick me, another win, and I press my lips to her crown, whispering, “I love you, Vanya, my happy baby.”

Clearing my throat, I move back before she can become uncomfortable, need to run away, or hit me. Or all three. There’s a change in her behavior, she’s less angry and I hate that I ask, “He makes you happy, doesn’t he?”

She nods before I’ve even finished speaking and blinks too much. It makes me dizzy just watching it and I don’t know what I expect her to do or say, but it isn’t, “When I get married to Dima, will you walk with me like normal people do?”

“Yeah,” I whisper, my throat raw, “I’ll walk with you.”

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