Elena, Damien’s wife, was laughing at something her husband whispered into her ear, her head tilted back with no care in the world.
And across the yard, Isaak nursed a drink with one hand tucked in his pocket.
Seeing him always brought back not-so-fine memories, but the more his presence lingered around the house, the more I got used to accepting the concept of moving on.
He looked exactly like he always did, stern-faced and deadly, but somehow softer tonight. Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered just a second too long on the skies. Or maybe it was just me, still seeing the ghost of my sister in the curve of his smile.
I wasn’t his greatest fan, but I was grateful for the peace he’d given Yulia during her short time with the Yezhovs. Despite the danger that surrounded us, he managed to put a smile on her face and make her laugh, if only for a little while.
That was the only reason I gave him a short wave from a distance as I stepped down from the terrace, my heels sinking slightly into the grass.
At the other end of the yard, Matvey moved through the crowd like he owned the damn world. And maybe, in our corner of it, he did.
More guests milled about: Matvey’s business allies, old friends, a few people we didn’t quite trust but had to tolerate. But my husband? He barely noticed them.
And I loved watching him strut with that special swagger and away, like he reminded the world every second that he was untouchable.
From my perspective, he looked like a delicious meal I could gobble up right now.
He nodded now and then, offered the occasional tight-lipped smile, but his attention darted somewhere else.
Mira somehow pried herself from Eduard’s arms and went barreling toward her father in a wobbling blue of curls and giggles.
He crouched low and scooped her into his arms mid-sprint, her tiny arms flinging around his neck.
From where I stood watching them, I heard her loudly babble something about cake andbu-tta-flas(butterflies) and the “secret treasure” she’d hidden in the rosebushes.
Matvey murmured something low to her, and she giggled like he’d just offered her truckloads of strawberries.
She loved strawberries.
Matvey didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve well. But with Mira? He was different. With her, his steel bent and stone walls grew flowers.
With us…all resistance melted completely.
He caught my gaze across the garden and held it. For a second, the rest of the world slipped out of focus.
Then he ambled toward me with that slow gait, like he had all the time in the world, Mira perched on his hip, her little hands tangled in his collar.
“Your daughter is supposed to bring peace, and yet, she’s conspiring with bees,” he said, stopping in front of me.
“Bees?” I smiled. “She must get such wicked ideas from your side.”
He grunted, beckoned to one of the nannies we’d hired, and passed Mira to the young lady, who whisked her away with promises of strawberries and some incoherent babble I didn’t catch on to.
Matvey tugged me toward him until I was flush against his chest. “You’re thinking too loud.”
“Am I?” I tilted my chin up, eyes locking with his. “What am I thinking?”
“That you don’t trust the quiet,” he said, brushing my hair back, fingers lingering on my jaw. “That maybe all this joy and happiness won’t last.”
I swallowed. “It never does, does it?”
His gaze dropped to my mouth, then lower. “Maybe not. But I’ll fight like hell to keep it for you and Mira.”
I leaned into him, pressing my forehead to his. “I know.”
Then, before either of us could react, across the garden, I caught a glimpse of my father.
