I want to ask him for help, but my pride stops me. Surely I can do it, no matter how complicated it is. What the hell are they selling to kids these days?
After unsuccessfully attempting to jam two incompatible parts together, Jeremy scowls at me as if I’ve kicked his puppy. “Not like that, Mommy.”
“I’m trying, Jer.” Even with YouTube, this thing is sophisticated as hell to assemble.
“You never do them right, Mommy.” His little eyes judge me just like his father’s. Jesus. Adrian gets an A+ for cloning himself.
I ruffle his hair. “Hey, are you saying I suck?”
“No, but Papa does them better.”
“He plays with you?” I sound as unbelieving as I feel. I had the impression that Adrian barely pays attention to his son.
My focus slides to Yan, searching for some sort of confirmation. But he shows no reaction, continuing to stand there like a pillar.
Jeremy lifts a shoulder. “Sometimes.”
“I’m sorry, Jer.”
“It’s okay.” He grins, showing me his teeth. “Papa is busy.”
God. This little boy was brought up to be a man at a young age. No child should feel it’s okay that his father spends more time with his work than with him. No child should be happy that he plays with him only sometimes.
If he couldn’t raise a kid, why bring him into the world?
The back of my neck prickles as if Adrian is feeling my thoughts about him and will lash out his punishments for having them.
Jeremy picks two pieces and clicks them together. Jesus. The little rascal knows how to do this better than me. I really hope it’s because he’s seen it done countless times before and not because I suck.
“Don’t you feel bad about him not being around more?” I ask.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because Papa stayed with me when you were a ghost, Mommy.”
17
Winter
I frown. That’s the second time he’s said that word. “Why do you say that I was a ghost, Jer?”
“Because you were,” he says nonchalantly, his feet swinging back and forth. “I went to see you.”
“You came to see me?”
“Uh-huh.” He points to his right. “Over there.”
My eyes follow the direction of his thumb. It’s a small white building, separate from the house. It doesn’t appear as well-kept as the main mansion. Cracks cover the exterior and vines of ivy grow on its walls, covering most of them.
The place instantly gives me a horrible feeling, like a bitter aftertaste mixed with vomit.
I realize this is the guest house Adrian told me to stay away from, and I have every intention to. But Jeremy’s words about me—the real Lia—being a ghost throw me for a loop. What could be in there for a child to think of it as ‘ghostly’?
I’m about to ask Yan, but my gaze shifts to the left and I freeze. In the main house, Adrian stares at me through a floor-to-ceiling window. He’s behind a desk in what I assume is his office. Three monitors sit in front of him, but his attention is entirely on me as he taps his index finger on the wood surface.
He’s watching me so intently, it feels like he’s standing right over my head and sucking at my soul. I try to break eye contact, but the sheer intensity of his ashen gray eyes takes me hostage.
Adrian is merely observing me, but it strikes deeper, like a demand, a call—for what, I don’t know.
What the hell do you want from me? I scream with my eyes, pursing my lips, but his focus doesn’t shift.
I’m the first to avert my gaze, because looking into his eyes is still uncomfortable. It still resembles being choked by invisible hands. The act isn’t real, but it’s as palpable as the burn in my lungs and the contractions in my stomach.
That’s one step further than when I first met him. Back then, it was only a sense of uneasiness. Now, I can decipher the reason behind that feeling—it’s the terrifying awakening of a side of me I hate so much. Every time I see his eyes, all I can think about is how much depravity hides behind that calm. And how much I crave it, like nothing ever before.
After losing my mother and daughter, I thought I was done with this life. I was done wanting things.
Adrian has proved me wrong.
The man is married, or a widower, and I shamelessly came on his fingers. Twice.
I internally shake my head. It’s not like I came to him or I can walk away from this. He’s the one at fault for replacing his wife so soon.
I continue playing with Jeremy, trying to ignore the way Adrian’s gaze digs into me like he’s peeling off my damn skin, layer by each agonizing layer. I only release a breath when Kolya joins him and his attention is momentarily distracted from me.
Jeremy and I have lunch together and I ask Yan to come with us. After living on the streets for so long, I’ve learned to share my meals, especially with people I feel at ease with. I wish Larry was around, and since I have no way to reach him, I somehow pretend that Yan is his replacement.
The guard shakes his head while Ogla fixes me with one of her judgmental stares for even suggesting it.
Adrian is still cooped up in his office and doesn’t join us for lunch. Something that I want to ignore, but think about during the entire meal.
After I put Jeremy down for his nap, a sense of emptiness echoes in my chest.
Thus far, the little angel has been keeping me busy, but now that he’s sleeping, nothing is able to.
Emptiness is bad as fuck in my case. If I don’t occupy my mind, it’ll occupy me, and that’s the last thing I want in light of the damn nightmares I don’t usually have.
I try searching for alcohol in the kitchen and come up empty-handed again. On my way out, Ogla startles me by appearing out of nowhere, standing in her rigid posture. The woman is everywhere, I swear.
I place a hand to my chest. “You scared me.”
“Have you learned anything about the Bratva?”
“Yes, I’ve made some progress.” While I was reading a story to Jeremy.
“What type of progress?”
“I know that the Pakhan’s name is Sergei Sorlov.”
“It’s Sokolov.”
“Same thing.”
“It is not the same thing,” she scolds with stiff seriousness. “If you say the Pakhan’s last name wrong, Mr. Volkov will pay the price.”
“Isn’t Adrian high-ranked?”
“That doesn’t make him bulletproof. If anything, he’s more scrutinized than anyone else and his punishment would be the most brutal possible to set an example out of. So for everything that’s holy, stop playing around and take this seriously.”
I hate that she’s making me feel like a petulant child, but at the same time, I can see the sincerity in her eyes. Her loyalty to Adrian is her incentive and no matter how much I hate the man, if something happens to him, Jeremy will be fatherless and this entire household will probably fall apart.
That’s not what I want.
An idea pops into my head. Since my role is fairly important for Adrian, I can use that to my advantage.
“I understand, Ogla.” I smoothen my tone. “Is Adrian coming out for a break anytime soon?”