Page 12 of Distinctly Daray
He was leaving the family that embraced him for everything that made him unique to spend several hours with the relatives who’d never tried to understand him. Once Victor was redressed, he checked to ensure his short hair wasn’t a mess. Thankfully, he was sporting a messy, spiky style these days, so it looked fine.
Sailing out of his gorgeous suite, Victor shared farewell waves with a plethora of Darays, who demanded that he drive safely and wished him well. After blowing them kisses, Victor left the condo, took the elevator down, and found his car in the parking garage. He drove out and blasted dance tunes as he navigated traffic.
His voice was nothing to brag about, but Victor loved to sing along with his favorites. Long before Victor was ready, he pulled into the subdivision where his parents had lived for decades. The houses were small but well maintained. Victor had offered to aid his parents in upgrading to a larger home, but that idea had been soundly rebuffed. They didn’t want or need him to flaunt his wealth.
He lived comfortably but wasn’t rich by Council standards. That didn’t matter to the Antonovs. From the moment Victor had taken the job working for two Council leaders, they’d accused him of putting on airs. Victor’s heart thudded in his chest, and he forced himself to take a deep breath. As usual, he was dredging up every awful encounter he’d had with the Antonovs as he pulled into the driveway, which only made him panicky.
Shutting off the car, Victor slapped a smile on his face and exited the vehicle. Not every visit was terrible, and he needed to stay positive if he didn’t want to have a miserable day.
“Victor, is that you?” his eldest sister, Loria, called out the front door as he walked inside. “It’s been so long I nearly forgot what you look like.”
It was tempting to roll his eyes, but Victor refrained. Everyone in his family was blond and had green eyes. They also shared many of the same features. No one would mistake him for anything but an Antonov.
“How are you, Loria?” Victor asked as he approached.
“Fine. Not that you’ve called to see what’s going on in my life.”
Victor was guilty as charged. However, he’d attempted to keep in touch with his many brothers and sisters, but none of them had bothered to return the gesture. Most of the time, they hadn’t even answered when he had taken the initiative. He brought none of that up.
“Sorry,” Victor said. “How are the kids?”
“Annoying me for weeks asking about their Uncle Victor.”
Loria was shoved aside to reveal Victor’s youngest brother, Christian.
“Mom, Fancy Pants is here,” Christian called out with a shit-eating grin.
“Good to see you, Christian.”
“You didn’t bring any food?”
With a shake of his head, Victor squeezed his way past his siblings to enter the house. After Victor had moved out, he’d tried bringing something with him to the massive midday meal his mother loved to have on Sundays. But he’d grown weary of the complaints. He’d been accused of trying to upstage everyone else with gourmet foods from fancy Council shops. The truth was Victor had cooked them, but no one believed him, which was ridiculous. It was at their feet that he’d learned to cook.
He’d soon learned it was easier to arrive with nothing. His mother would purse her lips, and a sibling or two would comment. Then everyone would move on. That was far easier than an entire meal of everyone ignoring his dish while simultaneously chastising him for purchasing something to show off.
“Victor’s here,” his father, Ivan, shouted when he spotted him.
“Hello, Papa.”
“Go greet your mother. She’s in the kitchen.”
With a nod that would’ve done a sentinel proud, Victor ignored the family members clustered in the small living area and headed to the kitchen.
“You couldn’t bring some bacon?” his mother, Polina, asked as Victor entered the kitchen.
Victor walked over and kissed her smooth cheek. Her blonde hair was tied up in the intricate bun she preferred, and her pretty face was flushed slightly from the heat in the kitchen. She’d likely already spent hours cooking up a variety of savory pastries and preparing eitherborschtorschi.
“I can run to the store and get you some if you need it,” Victor said, not pointing out that she’d assured him yesterday that she didn’t want him to bring anything.
“Never mind, I will use what I have,” his mother replied. “Loria, put bacon on the list; we will pick it up at the market tomorrow.”
“Of course, Mama,” Loria remarked, hustling into the kitchen to scrawl the ingredient onto the list their parents had kept on the fridge for as long as Victor could remember. “Is that a skirt you’ve got on, Victor?”
His mother raised her head and frowned. “Why can you not be content with buying men’s clothes?”
“These are men’s clothes,” Victor answered softly. “They have a wider leg, that is all.”
“They didn’t have a normal version?” Loria asked, her brows lifted.
