Page 156 of Sire
It’s all I can hide.
Nannie used to tell me, “Country girls don’t retreat. They reload.”
I lift my chin and Sire’s left hand to my lips. Kissing what’s left of the finger he gave for me, I vow, “I fell in love with a man who sacrificed himself for others, including me. And I won’t stop loving him now. I support him. I’ll be fine.”
Sire cups my face, pulling me into a kiss. “God, I fucking love you so much,” he murmurs over my lips.
He won’t stop kissing me while the others descend into a debate about humanitarian aid versus self-preservation.
His warm lips find my ear, his ringed hand holding mine tightly grasped over my belly.Our baby.
“I love both of you,” he whispers. “Have faith, Angel.”
I do have faith.
Until seven weeks later.
When Sire stops calling from Moscow.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
SIRE
It’s snowing,but I don’t care. Back home in Charleston, two snowflakes would shut the city down. But here in Moscow? Life goes on.
I stand by a back door of the sprawling dream home that was my childhood nightmare, but I refuse to let them invade my mind. Not when outside in the gated courtyard, snowflakes fall over an empty kids’ playground.
It wasn’t there when I was a kid.
It was built for Lev, who’s supposed to be out there, but…
“What the fuck is taking so long?”
It’s all taking too long. The weeks I spent in Ukraine. The weeks I’ve been waiting for my father to be ready for surgery. Yakov says Ruslan needs more time.
But I don’t have time.
I need to get this surgery done. I need to be home with my wife and baby. I need my nephew. I haven’t even met him yet.
“Patience,” Yakov urges. “One more meeting.”
“Fuck these meetings.” I get in his face. “Iknow what he’s doing. He’s grooming me if he dies, but I’m not taking over. He gets my kidney, not my life.”
At the sound of approaching footsteps over emerald marble floors, Yakov turns to greet the next guest. It’s like I’m a prince in a goddamn royal receiving line, when all I want is to see my nephew.
With my back turned to the next guest, I hold my breath. Katya is supposed to bring Lev outside to play. As a “family friend,” I’m supposed to spend the day with him, but she’s been stalling, too.
Every morning, I call Wren. Every evening, too. She’s my salvation, calling me home.Soon, Angel. Soon.
But not without my nephew.
“I always knew our godly prince would return.”
I pivot to greet the familiar, smoky voice with a Russian accent. “Tariel,” I smirk. “Can’t say it’s nice to see you again.”
From his barrel chest, he rattles a laugh. “Leave us.” He dismisses Yakov like a fly.
Tariel is my father’s most powerfulAvtoritet, a brigade leader. He’s a brutal killer who was always kind to me as a child. He never had kids. Maybe that’s why.
