Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“Of course,” he says with a smirk. “It took every second of my time keeping these hoodlums in line.”
Semyon snorts, and their grandfather shakes his head, his worn, leathery face all creases as he smiles. “If that isn’t the understatement of the year. I tried to help, but I couldn’t keep up with them. There was a time they were wild, and my days of reining in terrors were past.”
Matvei snorts and shakes his head. “Jesus, do you remember that time Rodion decided to ‘borrow’ Rafail’s car for a joyride? What were we, sixteen?”
Rodion’s smile is a little pained as he rubs the back of his neck and gives Rafail a sheepish smile.
“I remember it well,” Rafail says with a pointed look. He doesn’t appear quite as amused as the rest of them, but even his serious eyes spark with a hint of humor.
“We were fourteen,” Rodion admits, shaking his head. “And we had fun, didn’t we? Until, uh… until Rafail caught us.”
Rafail growls next to me. “Yeah, nearly driving yourself straight into a river sounds like excellent fun.”
“Oof,” I say with a grimace. “You two! Did you really?”
“Oh,” Rafail says, shaking his head. “They did. Once, anyway.”
“You got that right,” Matvei says, his eyes bright with laughter. “He dragged us out of that car so fast, my head was spinning. And the look on his face? I thought he was going to kill us right there.”
“I thought about it,” Rafail says dryly, making everyone laugh.
“No, instead of killing us, he made sure we wished we were dead,” Rodion adds with a grin. “Good enough, right?”
Matvei shakes his head. “Yeah, that was kind of a turning point, I think. Didn’t pull that shit again.”
My chest tightens as I take in their words. The man who had dreams and hopes beyond the city of Moscow and the confines of family had to give it all up. He had to step into the role of protector, laying aside what he wanted to keep what he already had.
Right then, I feel the weight of responsibility alongside him. I want to help him shoulder it. He might be grumpy and intense and so bossy it sometimes makes me want to scream, but I feel it—an undeniable pull to the boy he left behind.
I want to give him back some of the freedom he surrendered.
I reach for his hand and give it a squeeze. In response, he nestles my one hand in both of his as the waitstaff clears our dishes and brings out large platters of dessert plates with shimmering pudding and layered cake.
“Ooooh,” Zoya says, her eyes dancing. “Their chocolate cake is epic, Anissa.”
I nod along with her. “I might not remember everything, but I can say with absolute certainty that I love chocolate cake.”
Suddenly, another memory surfaces, like a snapshot from another life I once lived. Honest to god, if I didn’t believe in reincarnation before this, I sure as hell do now.
My brothers—I remember a few names now.
Mikhail. Viktor. Lev.
My heart aches.
Their laughter echoes around me as I reach for a slice of chocolate layer cake. My mother, her gentle smile lighting up her wrinkled face, cuts me a piece and tugs my hair. “Had them make your favorite,” she says, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
I blink, and the memory slips away like a fading dream.
“Anissa?” Zoya looks at me with concern. “Would you like a piece?”
I nod, not trusting my voice. If I talk, I’m going to cry. Rafail’s intense gaze sweeps over mine. Wordlessly, he brushes a thumb across the top of my hand. Reassuring me. Leaning in, his breath is hot at my ear. “Do we need to go?”
I swallow the lump in my throat and force a smile. “Not until I have that cake, please.”
A commotion sounds out the window, and like they did at home, in the kitchen, every damn one of them comes to immediate attention. Rodion is the first to get up, pushing away from the table so fast his chair hits the floor. I stare, my fork suspended over the cake, as Rafail snaps into commander mode. Even his uncle and grandfather look immediately to him.
“Semyon, guard the door. Matvei, go with Rodion. Gleb, you stay here. Yana, scan the outer perimeter on surveillance and see what the fuck is going on out there.”
As everyone runs to obey, he leans in close to me and slides an index finger under my chin, bringing my eyes to his. “You do exactly what I say.”
I nod, both terrified of whatever’s happening and confident he’ll take care of me. Of all of us.
“Could be anything,” his grandfather says to me, leaning in to take a sip of his coffee. “Someone cut someone else off. They had heated words. Some idiot hit another guy for flirting with his girl. People do dumb things all the time.” He doesn’t need to supply the rest of his sentence because I already know. They don’t have the luxury of assumptions.