Who the hell is in my kitchen?
I rub my hands over my arms, trying to convince myself that it’s fine, and the bogeyman isn’t waiting around the corner, biding their time until I wander into their trap.
A deep male voice rumbles, and I practically sprint toward it. The only person I trust around Niko right now is Andrei. I don’t want anyone else near my son.
I turn the corner, nearly tripping over my own feet when I skid to a stop.
It isn’t a bogeyman at all. It really is Andrei, his back to me as he flips pancakes on the stove. The adrenaline coursing through my veins washes away like sand. I sigh, relieved while the hollow emptiness leaves me feeling exhausted all over again.
At least I know that he’d never do anything to hurt Niko.
Niko turns toward me with a wide smile, a piece of half-chewed food stuck to his cheek with the sticky sheen of half-dried syrup. “Morning, Mama!” he blurts, and I cringe at how full his mouth is. He’s standing on his step stool by the counter, apparently unwilling to carry his food to the table before he digs in.
“Finish chewing before you try to talk, kid,” Andrei says without turning around.
Niko’s still in his pajamas and Andrei looks like he hasn’t slept a wink, but they look comfortable. Brushing it aside, I pull Niko against me, pressing a kiss to the top of his hair, needing him way more than he needs me right now.
“Morning, baby.” He looks happy, and I’m not sure how much longer it’ll last, so I’m going to savor it while I can. He twists against me, trying to pull free, and I reluctantly let him. “Did Andrei make these for you?” He swallowshis food and smiles, nodding enthusiastically. I swallow thickly. “That was nice of him, huh?”
“Uh huh! Thanks, Andrei.”
Andrei finally looks over his shoulder at us and flicks off the stove, a stack of pancakes piled on a plate next to him. He wordlessly pushes them in my direction, nodding at Niko.
“No problem. Hey, why don’t you go get washed up and play in your room for a while? I need to talk to your mom for a bit.” Niko, the little traitor, nods and hops off his stool before darting around me toward his room.
God, it’s going to be a nightmare to clean all his sticky handprints, but it’ll be a welcome distraction.
Once he’s gone, leaving me without the flimsy barrier his presence brought me, Andrei’s focus is unflinchingly on me, his eyes piercing and looking through to the very fibers of my soul. He’s always been able to pin me in place with just a look, and I shift under his gaze now. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but I doubt he’s going to find it.
“How’re you feeling?” He catches me off guard with the sincerity in his voice. I open my mouth to tell him I’m fine out of reflex before I stop myself.
I’m not fine. I’m so far from fine it’d be funny under different circumstances. For a moment I want to tell him exactly that, but what’s the point? It’s not like he actually cares. He’s just asking to be polite.
Andrei isn’t the type of man who’s safe to open up to. He’s just as likely to weaponize my feelings as he is to ignore them. He’s being kind right now, but I can’t let myself forget who he is. If he’s willing to hold me at gunpoint to get his way, I don’twant to know what he’d do if he knew all my inner thoughts and needed something from me.
Instead of answering, I ask the questions that have been screaming in the back of my head since I woke up.
“Has anyone talked to his mom yet? I don’t think she’d appreciate hearing the news from me. It would be better to hear it from someone she cares for.”
There’s a conflicted look on his face before he eventually nods. “Maksim talked to her last night. Before I got here.” He clears his throat, turning away as he moves to start cleaning up the dishes. “We both did.”
I look at the untouched plate in front of me, nodding to myself. I should have expected that. I know he makes a point of talking to the families of his men after they’re killed.
There’s a lump in my throat just thinking about it.
I’m glad he didn’t come over here. At least I didn’t have to deal with his hostility on top of everything else.
“You should eat,” Andrei prompts, pushing a glass of water in front of me. I don’t know how to tell him I’m not hungry, that I’m not sure when I’ll be able to stomach the thought of food, but it sure as hell isn’t going to be today, so I take a sip from the glass, trying not to choke around my rickety emotions.
“Does Emiliya know?” I ask when it feels like I can breathe again. I can’t bring myself to look at him, staring blankly at the slightly burnt pancakes in front of me instead. She deserves to know. I’m not sure if she has any genuine feelings for Daniil, but she doesn’t deserve to find out through the gossip mill.
“Blair—”
“I don’t think I can be the one to tell her. I can’t put on a polite face with my dead husband’s mistress.” My throat is thick, the words choked off and quiet.
Andrei moves to stand in front of me, hands braced on the marble counter. “Do you know where his body is? Who should I talk to about funeral arrangements?” I force myself to stop and catch my breath. My heart’s pounding, like a dam is breaking inside my chest. “And what am I supposed to tell Niko? He practically worships Daniil, Andrei.” He takes my chin in his hand, forcing me to look up at him. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”
He moves slowly, like I’m a wild animal, as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. Immediately, his hands fall away sharply as if he’s been burned, and he takes a decisive step back.
