He rubbed his eyes. “Mama?” he asked again.
Elena unfroze from where she had been standing. “My wild boy, what are you doing awake? You had a big day which means you need a big sleep.”
Nikolai peered at me and then back to his mother. “You were loud.”
I saw the muscles in Elena’s back tighten. She brushed down his hair. “Did we wake you up? Sorry, baby. We were just...We were just talking.”
For a toddler, he had a pretty advanced that’s bullshit expression. Though I assumed Elena carried that face in her genes and had passed it down as easily as her green eyes.
“Mmhmm,” he mumbled. “I was sleeping.”
“I’m sorry, baby. Let me put you back to bed.” Elena looked at me over her shoulder, eyes suddenly blazing. This isn’t over, her expression promised.
Yes, it is, I sent back.
Nikolai took his mother’s hand, letting her lead him out. As he went, he turned back to me and gave a little wave. “Nun-night.”
Elena sent me another heated look. Say it back, you piece of shit.
“Good night, Nikolai.” I didn’t look at his mother. “Elena.”
If her son wasn’t there, she might’ve cussed me out again. Instead, Elena reined back her temper, scooped up the toddler, and left.
In a calculated move on her part, she left the study door open.
I knew she would feel satisfied in the idea that I would get up and close it behind her, like I was her damn butler.
When I stepped around my desk to close the door, I paused by the hallway. I told myself that I was just checking for threats, just stretching my legs.
But even I couldn’t fool myself.
Through the walls, I could hear Elena cooing to her son. Every now and then he would let out a jubilant giggle before falling quiet under his mother’s shushing. I could hear her voice running over words and rising in tempo, which meant she was reading him a story.
I leaned against the wall and listened.
The words were muffled but it was her tone I was enamoured by. How delicate and sweet her voice was when she was speaking to her son, how patient and loving she was when she described and explained the world around him.
Even in the forest, when we had first found them and were walking to the vehicles, she’d answered all his questions.
Birdie?
Yes, that’s a woodpecker.
Wood-pecher?
Pecker. Remember your k sound.
K, k, k, he had repeated until Elena had laughed. Woodpecker.
Elena often balanced on the line between patience and impatience. She could struggle with people who didn’t understand concepts as fast as she could or grew annoyed quickly by conventional ways to do things. But she had also sat with Roman for hours while she taught him how to read and had waited over the course of months when she had killed her father.
Listening to the two of them...
It was difficult to describe how it made me feel. I had felt anger, sadness, and joy all in the past few hours. Usually, all at the same time.
I adored my nephew and niece, doted on them with the intention of always having children of myself one day. But I had missed nearly three years of Nikolai’s life. I hadn’t seen him as a fresh newborn or seen him take his first steps. I didn’t even know his first word, and I had only learned his full name three minutes ago.
I had been cheated; Nikolai had been cheated. Our relationship had never formed or grown, and for what? So Elena could live with her freedom?
Elena had never even had the chance at freedom. She had had a child to take care of, and then when Nikolai was old enough to go to preschool, Tatiana had sent her men to hunt Elena down.
Tatiana’s involvement in this situation was cause for concern. Why now? Why would she choose to strike now?
I had long suspected her silence over the past few years had been so she had time to build her army. Yet, when my men and the other organisations had looked, there had been no proof of an army–or even Tatiana herself.
She had managed to outsmart us all again.
Except now, my failure at capturing her didn’t only threaten my family or the women I loved. But also, my niece, my nephew...and my son.
The ringtone cut through my brooding, allowing me a momentary distraction from the twister that was my thoughts.
“Yes.” I answered.
“Boss.” It was Feodor. “We’ve got the Don of Manhattan on the line.”
“Patch him through.”
The dial ran for a second before Giovanni Vigliano’s voice said, “You need a secretary.”
“I have one. Only don’t tell Feodor.”
He didn’t laugh but Giovanni never did. I imagined it was because he didn’t see the point of laughing. Whereas I laughed to calm the people around me or charm those who needed to be charmed, Giovanni wouldn’t bother.
He’s a psychopath, Roman had said to me the first time we had met with Giovanni privately.
Psychopaths try to blend in, Artyom had replied. They’re charming and productive in society. Giovanni is...Giovanni is simply apathetic.
I agreed with Artyom. The emptiness inside of Giovanni couldn’t be explained away by a medical term. It was something much more horrific than that.
“I hear your little woman is back,” Giovanni said. “Can I believe your murderous rampages are also coming to an end?”
I leaned back in my chair, smiling to myself. “You’re one to talk.”
“Indeed.”
“While I have you on the phone, I have to thank you for the boat. It cut our travel time in half.”
“You did me a favor and now I have done you one. We are even.” A few months after Elena had left, Giovanni and his new wife had found themselves in a spot of trouble, and I had been more than happy to offer them a helping hand.
“For now,” I replied.
Giovanni made a noise of agreement. “I hear you’ve found yourself with an heir. Congratulations.”
My grip tightened on the phone. “His mother and I are not married.” A sly dig at Giovanni’s own parentage. “If he wants a kingdom, he’ll have to kill an old don and marry his daughter.”
“Or steal his widow,” Giovanni countered.
“Very true.” I picked an invisible piece of lint off my slacks. “Such examples we have set for our boys.”
The don didn’t laugh but there was humor in his voice when he replied, “Let us hope their mothers are better influences.”
Neither of us believed that.
“I rang to inquire after the Titus situation. Is she back?”
For the first time in decades, mafia bosses had been putting their rivalries and differences aside to hunt down Titus. She’d killed innocent women and children–everyone wanted a bite. Giovanni and I had been working close together. He hadn’t forgiven her for her attempt on his daughter, Marzia’s, life.
“Her lackeys are, and working hard. But the woman herself remains hidden.”
“Let me know if there are any updates.”
“You, as well.”
We hung up, much more cordial with each other than we had been all those years ago. Time–funny thing, wasn’t it? It could soothe as well as ache. It could lessen pain but could also build resentment. The worse thing was you couldn’t take a break; it continued going and going until you looked back and thought where did the time go?