Page 29 of Room Nine: For Their Eyes Only

His jaw drops, and his stunned expression makes me believe I went too far. “I don’t need to hear details, Vivi. If he’s the man you want, then you have my blessing. But understand, if anything goes wrong, he puts you in harm’s way, fails to protect you, or breaks your heart, then I will end his life.” He’s such a bully, but it’s the best I can hope for from Boris Volkov.

“If he does break my heart, I sanction his demise,” I say flatly. I am, after all, my father’s daughter.

“I’m glad we talked about this, sweetheart. I have news of my own, and I need you to be as open-minded as I’ve been with you,” he stammers, his hand shaking as he takes a sip of water. “You may even be happy about it.”

My brow creases with suspicion. “That’s doubtful. What have you done?” My father is a dangerous man capable of terrible things. I accepted his shortcomings long ago. He was the only stable parent in my life and the only one who truly wanted me around. But that doesn't mean I have to accept everything he does. There are limitations.

“Nothing illegal. I just wanted you to know I’m in love.” His gruff, masculine face turns bright red. I’ve never seen him like this before, and I’m not sure I like it. Love makes you vulnerable, and I don’t want him placed in a precarious position protecting some girl.

Plus, I’m not crazy about some tramp stealing my father.

“In love? How long have you known her? Why were you looking for tail instead of worrying about me?” I slam my palm against the table, then shrink in my seat, fearing I'm making a scene. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. My mother has never been in the picture, and I’m not accustomed to sharing my father’s attention with another woman. Sue me.

His condescending laughter makes me growl.

“Who is she?”

As my curiosity and anger mount, he ducks his head, murmuring something I can’t understand, then raising his voice for me to hear a single word. “Sybil.”

“Sybil?” I groan, releasing pent-up rage that darkens my reply. “Who is Sybil? In all fairness, you knew Andrei. Who is she? Do you want to marry her?”

He nods, and my heart sinks. I just got him back, and some woman is taking my father away. This is world-class hypocrisy, but I’m too emotional to listen to reason.

“Vasily got himself into a bit of trouble just after you left. He kidnapped a senator’s daughter and held her hostage, hoping to make her fall in love with him.”

“That is the dumbest thing I have ever—” My father cuts me off.

“I thought so too, but it worked. They’re engaged. Her name is Anya, and she’s Sybil’s friend. When Anya went missing, Sybil came to me, hoping I’d help find her friend, and before I knew it, I'd fallen head over heels. I’ve never been happier.” He smirks with zero remorse, then takes a bite from his sandwich.

I use my knife to cut a piece of my grilled cheese and then dip it into my soup. While I chew it loudly, I ask, “Is that why you’ve suddenly become such an understanding father? I expected you to lose your shit over Andrei’s age. Is this what happiness did to you?” I’d never begrudge him love and joy. If this chick, Sybil, makes him a better person, I guess I can get behind it.

“Happiness has certainly improved my mood. But Sybil’s age doesn’t give me a ton of room to judge Andrei,” he mutters through bites, then clears his throat with a sip of water. “I understand love is love, no matter how many years you have between you.”

His implication sinks in. Confused, I straighten my posture and lean closer to whisper, “What do you mean you have no room to judge? How old is Sybil?”

“She’s your age.”

I’m dead.

Chapter21

Epilogue

Two years later

Mornings are quiet. Long nights of sex with multiple men are, at best, draining and, at worst, exhausting. And I hate not waking up in my bed. When you live with three men—three husbands who love to take full advantage of marital rights, it’s essential to carve out your own place.

I figured that out weeks into our relationship. I couldn’t be the only person who didn’t have a dedicated bedroom. How would that be fair?

Last night was a particularly busy night. It must have been because I found myself sandwiched between Viktor and Vadim this morning, naked as the day I was born.

They are truly incorrigible.

I slip out of bed, crawling forward to keep from waking them, and reach for my robe. I’m unbelievably sore everywhere that counts and in a few places that don’t make sense.

Sore and satisfied. There are worse things to be.

Vadim’s snoring startles me, and I drop to the carpet, fearing they’ll wake up and follow me to the shower, always ready for another round.

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