Page 59 of Brutal Reign
“Is that where we live now?”
“For a while,” I answer carefully.
“Look. Water!” Kin points to a glimmer of blue visible between the trees. It’s a huge pool. “Can we go swimming?”
I can’t help but smile. Leave it to a four-year-old to find the silver lining in any situation.
Pavel approaches us, tucking his phone into his pocket. “Come in. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”
“I wanna walk,” Kin says, wiggling in my grasp. I set him down, and his hand slips into mine.
We climb the stone steps, but the door swings open before we reach it. A short, stocky man with a bushy salt-and-pepper beard stands in the doorway and ushers us inside.
The entryway opens to a living space with soaring ceilings and polished hardwood floors that gleam under recessed lighting. Fresh tulips spill from a crystal vase on a side table. There’s a lived-in warmth here that I didn’t expect.
“This is Yaroslav,” Pavel announces. “Yarik for short. He runs my home, does a little bit of everything except cook. If you see him near the stove, run in the other direction.”
Yarik rolls his eyes. “Please, everyone loves my borscht,” he shoots back in heavily accented English, before turning his attention to me.
I shake his hand, but I’m not sure how to introduce myself. “I’m Hope,” I finally say. “And this is Kin.” Even without me saying so, I get the feeling he knows exactly who I am and why I’m here.
“Very nice to meet you both,” he says warmly, then crouches down to Kin’s level and extends his hand. “And you too, young man.”
Kin shakes it solemnly, happy at being included.
“Yarik is the reason I still have all my teeth,” Pavel adds, his hand clapping the shoulder of the much-shorter man affectionately. “He was my boxing coach. Taught me everything I know about fighting and surviving the streets of Moscow.”
Kin’s eyes light up. “Can you teach me how to fight?”
“Maybe one day if your mom allows it.” Pavel winks at him.
Before I can shut down all talk of fighting, a pretty young woman with full-sleeve tattoos and heavy eyeliner bounds down the stairs, earbuds still in. She wears cut-off shorts and an off-the-shoulder band tee.
She gives me a once-over, then grins. “You’re the wife,” she says. “Damn. I never thought this day would come.”
Word has definitely spread. I suppose Pavel had to alert his household.
“Dinara.” Pavel speaks her name like a warning.
“Oh, come on. You know it’s what we’re all thinking.” She extends her hand to me with a sheepish smile. “I’m Dinara, Yarik’s daughter. I also work for this guy here.” She jerks her thumb at Pavel.
I’m curious what her role is exactly, but I don’t ask. I go through the introductions again.
“Well, hello there,” she says, dropping to Kin’s eye level. He immediately becomes shy, pressing closer to my leg. “Damn. Look at those eyes, kid. You’re gonna be a heartbreaker, aren’t you?”
Kin bobs his head, though I’m sure he doesn’t know what she means. Either way, she’s not wrong.
Dinara straightens. “I’m actually about to give the Belov’s poor nanny a break. With Kira and Maxim away, she’s been doing double duty. Is your little guy interested in coming with us? We’re going swimming.”
Kin looks at me hopefully. I give him an apologetic smile. “Maybe next time. We need to settle in now.”
“Sure thing.” Dinara flashes another grin, then bounds out the door.
Well, she’s a vibe.
“Your rooms are upstairs,” Yarik says, gesturing toward a curved staircase. “If you follow me, I can?—”
“No need, old man. I’ll take them.” Pavel pats Yarik’s barrel chest.
