Page 22 of Sins He Taught Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 3)

“You had a bad dream? What was it about?”

“Mommy and Daddy.”

It takes a few minutes to get it out of him completely, but he explains that in his dream, he was playing with his parents and they started to walk away. He ran after them, but they were too fast, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t catch them.

“Niko,” I sigh. Letting out a groan, I take a seat on the floor and pull him closer so that he stands in front of me. “I know you miss them. I know you do.”

I don’t know what I’m doing here. I was raised hard, tough. No one ever comforted me when I cried or came to caress my pain away.

But it doesn’t take a genius to see that Niko has suffered enough. He doesn’t need what I was given. He needs something else. A softer touch.

I don’t know the best way to explain to him that his parents aren’t coming back without sounding as cold-blooded as Timofei. Every way I try to phrase it, it sounds too cruel to tell a child. There’s no way to gently describe why it is that his parents will never come back for him. Why he was suddenly orphaned, left under the care of a man that frankly doesn’t have the first fucking clue how to be a parent.

I was born to lead the Bratva, not to coddle children. I am far, far out of my element. The only thing I can offer is a shoulder to cry on. He takes a seat in my lap and clings to me.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do, Niko,” I say to him. “I miss your mom and dad, too. But we are stuck together, you and me. You have to behave so I can work, and when I finish, we can play all the games you want. Do you think we can agree to something like that?”

I look down at him and it’s like staring at an image of my little brother. He has the same long eyelashes and chubby pink cheeks. The same dark shag of hair and button nose. He’s the spitting image of his father. Staring at him makes me hurt in a way I didn’t think I could.

“I’ll try,” he says. “No promise.”

I laugh despite how on edge I am. “You’re a smart-ass just like your dad, too, you know that?”

“I miss my daddy,” he says somberly.

“So do I.” It’s the only reply I can give him.

I keep racking my brain for other answers to the problems confronting the two of us. Hired nannies didn’t work. Yaroslav didn’t work.

What else is there?

“I’ve still got some work to do. I need you to finish your nap while I work. You tell Uncle Yaroslav to come get me if you have another bad dream, okay?”

“Okay.” Nikolas climbs back into bed and I tuck him in.

“Sleep tight...”

“…Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” he finishes. That was what Dmitry always used to say to him. It feels wrong coming out of my mouth, but it seems to comfort him.

After a moment of watching him fall asleep, I step out and leave the door open a crack.

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